There’s a particular kind of ache that only shows up once the sun goes down, and Max Maryott bottles it perfectly on “Cold in California.” Southern California kid turns the state’s golden-hour mythology inside out, trading postcard warmth for that 2am drive-alone-with-your-thoughts feeling.

Maryott keeps things blunt: two people watching a relationship dissolve while ambition eats up all the oxygen in the room. That title hook — “it gets cold in California” — lands a literal image and a gut-punch metaphor for what happens when chasing a dream costs you someone real. Given this is early days for a guy who only started recording properly in 2024, “Cold in California” arrives with startling assurance. Fans of moody, cinematic pop with teeth should circle this one — it’s a genuinely strong signal of where Maryott’s headed next.