Collapse by Kelle feat Ola Koplowitz: A Psychedelic Rollercoaster That Sticks With You
If you’re into electronic music that feels like it’s rewiring your brain while making you move, Collapse is the kind of album that grabs you by the shoulders and shakes you awake. Released in 2019 on Ego Shot Recordings outta Hungary, this thing blends Breaks, Psy-Trance, and Progressive Breaks into a wild ride that doesn’t let go. It’s not just an album—it’s more like an experience, one where you come out feeling kinda changed.
The tracklist isn’t huge, but every song hits hard. Let me tell ya about two tracks that really stuck with me.
First up, “Collapse (Original Mix)”—this one feels like walking into a dream where everything’s slightly off-kilter but still beautiful. The beat builds slow at first, teasing you, and then BAM—it explodes into this hypnotic swirl of synths and rhythms. There’s something raw and alive about it, like the music itself has its own pulse. I remember listening to this late at night, staring at my ceiling, and thinking, “Whoa, what even IS this?” It’s not perfect—not in a polished, shiny way—but that’s what makes it so damn memorable. Feels human, y’know?
Then there’s “Collapse (Chris Voro Remix)”, which takes the original vibe and flips it on its head. This version is darker, heavier, almost like it’s pulling you down into some kind of spiral. But instead of being scary, it’s thrilling. Chris Voro adds these gritty textures and pounding breaks that make you wanna lose yourself completely. Like, I caught myself nodding along like a maniac during the drop, muttering “yes yes yes” under my breath like a lunatic. It’s the kind of remix that makes you respect the hell out of producers who can take something good and twist it into something unforgettable.
The other mixes—the Retroid Remix and Intro Mix—are solid too, but those two tracks? They burrowed into my brain and didn’t leave. Maybe it’s because they both feel like they’re telling stories without words, like each beat and layer is whispering secrets only you can hear.
Here’s the thing about Collapse: it’s not background music. You can’t just throw it on while doing dishes or scrolling through your phone. This album demands attention, and honestly? It deserves it. Listening to it feels like stepping into another world—one where time bends and sounds have colors.
And hey, maybe that’s why it’s called Collapse. Not because it falls apart, but because it collapses all these boundaries between genres, moods, and even thoughts. Or maybe I’m overthinking it. Either way, if you haven’t checked it out yet, do yourself a favor and dive in. Just don’t blame me if you start hearing echoes of it in your sleep.
Oh, and here’s a random thought to end on: I bet aliens would totally dig this album.
