Matroda’s distorted basslines meet KLP’s courtroom diction on “Bullshit,” clearing the floor of pretenders
Matroda and KLP have released “Bullshit,” a Croatia-meets-Australia broadside dropped on October 24 via Insomniac Records. The record is less a single than a filtration system, sifting clout-choked air until pulse remains. Matroda’s relentless tech-house chassis—distorted basslines, crisp hi-hats, stabbing synths—drives like a night bus, while KLP’s commanding lead slices through the mix with courtroom diction and club venom. She addresses the counterfeit and the clout-addled without euphemism, converting scorn into meter. Indeed, every eight bars feel like a cross-examination: tension ratchets, FX hiss, and the kick returns like a gavel. The comedic wink of the title curdles into defiance; this is a no-nonsense indie dance dispatch engineered to clear the room of pretenders and crown the faithful with sweat.
The vibe is triumphal and transferable—listener as bouncer of their boundaries. You don’t hear the groove; you metabolize it, shoulders upgrading to pistons as the topline repeats its callout with aerodynamic bite. Moreover, the arrangement understands economy, while preaching discipline: vocal stabs and percussive puncta leave negative space that amplifies authority, while the breakdown thins to a wire before detonating into a bass-gnarled drop built for warehouse catharsis. KLP’s timbre is indignant yet surgical, never over-sung; Matroda’s production is gritty but high-def, the kind of mix that survives on rigs and sweaty basements alike. However, what lingers after the final hit is not adrenaline; it is permission—permission to name fakery without apology, to dance like a verdict, to treat “Bullshit” as both soundtrack and shield.
Enjoyed the read? Consider showing your support by leaving a tip for the writer
TRENDING NOW
A roof leaks from the inside first; by that law of damage and repair, Khi Infinite’s new single “HOUSE” reads like both confession and renovation permit. The Virginia native, fresh from a high-water…
Heartbreak teaches a sly etiquette: walk softly, speak plainly, and keep your ribs untangled. By that code, Ghanaian-Norwegian artist Akuvi turns “Let Me Know” into a velvet checkpoint, a chill Alternative/Indie R&B…
Call it velvet jet-lag: Michael O.’s “Lagos 2 London” taxis down the runway with a grin, a postcard of swagger written in guitar ink and pad-soft gradients. The groove is unhurried yet assured…
A Lagos evening teaches patience: traffic hums, neon blooms, and Calliemajik’s “No Way” settles over the city like warm rainfall. Producer-turned-troubadour, the Nigerian architect behind Magixx and Ayra Star’s “Love don’t cost a dime (Re-up)” now courts intimacy with quieter bravado…
Unspoken rule of Saturday nights: change your type, change the weather; on “Pretty Boys,” Diana Vickers tests that meteorology with a convertible grin and a sharpened tongue. Following the sherbet-bright comeback…
A good record behaves like weather: it arrives, it lingers, and it quietly teaches you what to wear. Sloe Paul — Searching / Finding is exactly that kind of climate—nine days of pop-weather calibrated for the slow slide into autumn…
There’s a superstition that moths trust the porch light more than the moon; Meredith Adelaide’s “To Believe I’m the Sun” wonders what happens when that porch light is your own chest, humming. Across eight pieces of Indie Folk and Soft Pop parsimony…
Every scar keeps time like a metronome; on Chris Rusin’s Songs From A Secret Room, that pulse becomes melody—ten pieces of Indie Folk/Americana rendered with candlelight patience and front-porch candor. The Colorado songwriter, now three years…
Cold seasons teach a quiet grammar: to stay, to breathe, to bear the weather. Laura Lucas’s latest single “Let The Winter Have Me,” arriving through Nettwerk, alongside her album “There’s a Place I Go,” treats that grammar as a vow…
A campfire flickers on the prairie while the city votes to forget—rrunnerrss, the eponymous debut by the Austin-born band rrunnerrss led by award-winning songwriter and composer Michael Zapruder, arrives as both shelter and flare…