The New Citizen Kane offers a curious, glittering confection with the new single “Ratbag Joy,” and it’s a listen that feels a bit like dancing with a ghost at a warehouse party. On the surface, it’s all neon-slicked indie dance propulsion; a beat that tugs at your shoulders and synth hooks polished to a mirror shine, perfectly engineered for the hazy bliss of 2 a.m. It feels good. It feels dangerously simple.
But stay with it. Let it loop. The song’s glittering exoskeleton begins to crack.
This track puts me in mind of one of those ornate Fabergé eggs—so dazzling and impeccably crafted on the outside, but you half expect to crack it open and find a tiny, diamond-encrusted skull winking back at you. The joy here isn’t celebratory; it’s the frantic, sweaty joy of someone running from a fire, laughing all the way. It’s the sonic mask for a soul gnawed hollow by disillusionment, a desperate performance of “I’m fine” set to a four-on-the-floor pulse.
The New Citizen Kane has built a dance track about the ache of being lost. The protagonist isn’t seeking a genuine connection on the dance floor but rather a momentary, anonymous anesthetic. They are chasing a fleeting sensation of coolness to plaster over the feeling of being fundamentally undervalued and off-course. The music itself is the beautiful lie, the chosen delusion. It’s a banger about the baggage we carry, a vibrant anthem for the art of self-deception.
It leaves you with an uneasy, exhilarating feeling—a fantastic beat in your feet and a lump in your throat. You’re left to wonder, which part of you is it really speaking to?
