Cleopatra’s Secret Diary EP: A Leftfield Gem That Slithers and Shimmers
Alright, let’s talk about Cleopatra’s Secret Diary EP by Too Smooth Christ. Released in 2017 on Fuego International (shoutout to France for always keeping things spicy), this little beast of an album dives headfirst into the electronic abyss with flavors of leftfield, electro, and house. It’s not perfect, but damn if it doesn’t leave a mark.
First off, shoutout to Joel Krozer for mastering this thing—it sounds crisp without losing that raw edge, like someone ran their fingers through its circuits at just the right moment. Now, onto the tracks. I’m not gonna lie, there are four tunes here, but two stuck to me like gum under a club chair: “Cleopatra’s Bath” and “Vipera Aspis.”
“Cleopatra’s Bath” is straight-up hypnotic. Imagine standing in some ancient Egyptian bathhouse—except instead of steam, it’s filled with neon lights and basslines that wiggle around your brain like they own the place. The beat builds slow, teasing you, until suddenly BAM—it drops, and you’re hit with this slinky groove that feels both regal and kinda dirty. Like Cleo herself popping bottles in secret while plotting world domination. You can’t help but move to it, even if no one’s watching. And honestly? That’s what makes it unforgettable.
Then there’s “Vipera Aspis,” which hits different. This track feels alive, like a snake coiled up somewhere dark, waiting to strike. The melody twists and turns unpredictably, sharp synths hissing over a heartbeat-like rhythm. There’s something unsettling yet mesmerizing about it, kind of like staring into the eyes of danger and realizing you kinda like it. If snakes could DJ, this would be their anthem. No cap.
The other tracks, “Crepuscule Over Heraklion” and “HSW (Hot Sweepy Winds),” aren’t bad—they’ve got vibes—but they didn’t grab me as hard. They blend well into the overall mood of the EP though, so props for cohesion.
Here’s the thing: Cleopatra’s Secret Diary EP isn’t trying to reinvent the wheel. But it doesn’t need to. Instead, it takes the wheel, throws glitter all over it, and spins it in weird directions you weren’t expecting. It’s playful, experimental, and unapologetically French. Listening to it feels like sneaking into a party where everyone knows each other except you, but somehow you still end up dancing harder than anyone else.
Reflection time: Sometimes music doesn’t have to mean anything deep. Sometimes it just exists to make you feel something wild and untamed. This EP does exactly that. Oh, and fun fact—I kept thinking about pizza halfway through “Cleopatra’s Bath.” Weird flex, but I’m rolling with it.
