Love Doctor

party-core hardstyle cut; bassline swing under neon grime; retro-crude compression; cartoon grit with synthetic shine; warehouse brightness; stomp-loop formulas; kick drills meet jump energy; eurohard filter crashes; acidic funk flashes; no space for subtlety; bounce-driven momentum; nightclub parody edge; rough nostalgia with polish; pulse locked in muscle memory; rave-coded bounce discipline
Bangin' – Dawa-x

Back Again – Nath D

Keep On Jumping – Clayton Cash, Dustin Hertz

Lick It (Techno Mix) – Miss Puss

Bust Ya Head (Extended Mix) – Regain, Rooler

Activator (2K23 Revamp) – Activator

Language (Extended Mix) – Marco Cordi, Luca Antolini

HARDSTYLE BOOM VOL 2

Don’t want your throne, don’t want your seat
I’m scratching tiles with padded feet
You roll your eyes, I hiss back twice
I’m not a freak—I’m feline rights

I’m not ashamed of the way I live
Paws up high, got nothin’ to give
You flush me out, I dig back in
This world’s my litter, this fight—I win

WHERE’S MY BOX?!
I need my ground!
To spin, to claw, to turn around!
Your porcelain world is cold and fake—
I dig in dirt, I won’t forsake!

THIS ISN’T A PHASE
THIS IS A CLAWED-UP, PAWED-UP,
FLUORESCENT RAGE

You shame my ways, call it obscene
But my box is cleaner than your scene
Bathroom signs, your sterile throne—
I bury fear like a chewed-up bone

WHERE’S MY BOX?! (WHERE?! WHERE?!)
Fluorescent claws in the air!
WHERE’S MY BOX?! (WHERE?! WHERE?!)
I’ll take my right to pee anywhere!

"Scoop it! Scoop it! (Yeah!)"

WHERE’S MY BOX?! 
Don’t hold me back!
I claim my right on this littered track!
Fur or flesh, I take my stand—
Paws to the ceiling, fists to the land!

My Box

Recliner throne, six-pack of rage
Yells at cartoons like they’re deep state slaves
Type in caps lock, full of bile 
Calls me “woke” for my feline style 

Facts bounce off his tinfoil dome
Climate change is from a Chinese drone.
Blames his problems on avocado toast
Yells Merry Christmas just to roast.

“Back in my day…”
(Your day had lead paint and Archie Bunker.)
“This country’s gone soft!”
(You mean you miss segregation, Grandpa?)

CANCEL GRANDPA! He’s lost in the feeds!
Yellin’ at weather reports and minorities!
CANCEL GRANDPA! Take his remotes!
Before he swears at Sesame Street... and strokes!

Watched Fox for five hours straight...
...and called a recycling bin a communist.”

DEACTIVATE. 
HIS. 
CABLE. 
NOW.

Still forwards chain mail from 2003
Swears Clinton hacked his Roku TV
False Flag, False Flag, he is screaming at me
Thinks electing a king will save the country

Thinks drag queens are demonic spies
Thinks windmills cause cancer and screw up our skies
Can’t update his phone, blames TikTok
For why he’s banned from the neighborhood block

“I fought for this country!”
(You yelled at a lifeguard in '74.)
“Trump Derangement Syndrome is making your poor!"  
(You painted "I HEART MAGA" on your bathroom door.)

CANCEL GRANDPA! You have no stance!
No more tweets blaming immigrants for taking jobs!
CANCEL GRANDPA! Misunderstanding the clouds,
You're not brave or informed, you're just really loud!

Turn off the Fox, unplug his views—
And hide the pills from InfoWars, too!

 “Deeeear Grandpa… please shut your face…”
 “Let the truth in… not the deepfake…”
 “You can’t spell 'news'... with ‘no actual proof’...”
 “And your favorite show is just yelling with suits!”

CANCEL GRANDPA! Let him nap!
Turn off the hate and give him a map—
To the 21st century, where facts have weight,
And not every rainbow is part of the deep state!

“This used to be a free country!”
“It still is, Gramps… that’s why we muted you."

Cancel Grandpa

She posts her pie. He posts his prayer.
Double-taps like we weren't there.
House is clean, the kids are quiet —
No one sees the backstage riot.

Life in filters, framed just right,
Serving myths in glowing light.

She sells submission like it's bold
He cosplays God with a coffee hold
We stream their lives, then buy the shirt
As if their grid absolves our hurt

Vales, faith, love, and grace 
Hiding contracts, edits, space
It's not home, it's content bait
Endless attention, monetized fate

HASH TAG BLESSED!
The baby cries, performance art

HASH TAG BLESSED!
Sponsor on camera, play the part

HASH TAG BLESSED!
Call it love, it's brand-approved 

HASH TAG BLESSED! 
Caption perfect, gaslight the crowd

Lifestyle porn, sold by the blessed
Selfie-born, carefully dressed
Manicured freedom, pretending choice 
Plastic whispers from sponsor's voice

HASH TAG BLESSED!
Everyone smile, never speak

HASH TAG BLESSED!
Dad's got the camera, be unique

HASH TAG BLESSED!
Gold stars traded for control

HASH TAG BLESSED! 
No room to feel, just fill the scroll

#BLESSED

“Welcome to church…”
tap tap tap
This WiFi password better be ‘forgiveness 123’

The pew is wood, the mood is guilt
And the preacher’s spittin’ Old World silt

I’m ten minutes in and bored to death
They’ve sung “Hosanna” twelve times in one breath

God’s house has no AC
But my TikToks are preachin’ better than he.

The tithing tray rolled by and I faked a sneeze
I tip my hat, not Jesus’ fees

They say the world’s on fire but I’m watchin’ cats—
At least they’re honest when they crap

(Where's the closest litter box?)

SCREENS IN CHURCH! I’m scrollin’ my truth
Churchgoer phones are screwing up my Bluetooth

SCREENS IN CHURCH! 
My savior’s on mute
The Bible's plot needs a monster reboot

SCREENS IN CHURCH! 
I’m doomscrollin’ sin—
If Hell has WiFi, plug me in.

“Take. Off. Your. Hat.”
Nah, I’m livestreaming your homily collapse.

There’s a guy with a guitar from 1993
Sings like Creed and smells like tea
I faked three coughs and one bathroom run
Just to escape the Lord’s Fun Dungeon™

SCREENS IN CHURCH! I’m fakin’ the nod
While the pastor beefs with a cordless God

SCREENS IN CHURCH! Just laughin’ inside
While the choir’s on stage harmonizin’ genocide

SCREENS IN CHURCH! My friend just text back —
Took communion just now for a selfie and snack.

I tapped through prayer.
I filtered my soul.
I snapped the communion.
I liked it, too.
(scream drop)

HALLELUJAH TO THE ALGORITHM!
SCREENS IN CHURCH! My savior’s a stream

A neon messiah in a vaporwave dream
SCREENS IN CHURCH! My phone is what's real.

My thumbs are folded, that’s how I kneel.
SCREENS. IN. CHUUUUURCH!

-- Swipe left on sin. Scroll up on salvation. --

Screens in Church

Notifications in my skull
Buzzing like a locust lull
Feed me light and noise and sweat
Bite the chord, forget regret

I could journal, I could heal—
But I’d rather stage dive what I feel
If I scream with you tonight
We might outrun the parasite?

THERAPY’S EXPENSIVE — SO I SCREAM
THERAPY’S EXPENSIVE — SO I SCREAM

Punch the sky, light up the dream
Rage costs nothing, break the machine
Hands up high, no self-esteem
Because joy don’t wait — and neither do we

THERAPY’S EXPENSIVE — SO I SCREAM
THERAPY’S EXPENSIVE — SO I SCREAM

THERAPY’S EXPENSIVE — SO I SCREAM
THERAPY’S EXPENSIVE — SO I SCREAM

Diagnose This

To rave... or not to rave...?

Powdered wigs, bassline kicks
Chainmail glitz and guitar Licks
Lords and ladies, glow-up strobe
The monarchy just got disrobed

Jesters grinding velvet thrones
Spells are scrollin' on raver phones
No decorum, all delight
Minuet in UV light

RENAISSANCE RAVE!
Ritual glitch, release the soul!

RENAISSANCE RAVE!
Glowstick and lace, lose control

RENAISSANCE RAVE!
Monks freestyling, queens are lit

RENAISSANCE RAVE!
Swords and synths and candle spit

Bring thy goblet, drop the beat—
Get medieval on thy feet!

Armor clinks, the tempo burns
Even Black Death takes its turn

Holy crowns, neon saints
Holy rave, no restraints

“They said we were too much...
Too loud...
Too dramatic...
We built our castle with our speakers.

And took the throne!

BY THE MOONLIGHT, BY THE FLAME
Raise thy fists and curse thy name!

CHANT THIS VERSE TO SHAKE THE GRAVE:
“Rave-eternus! Sin-behaves!”

LIGHTNING DROP! 
MANA SPIKE!
NEON SMITE!
TAVERN SLAM!
BARD FIGHT!

FOXTAILS ON
CRUSH THE FLOOR

SWORD IN ONE HAND
BASS IN CORE

RENAISSANCE RAVE!
Cursed drops for the bold and depraved!

RENAISSANCE RAVE!
Staff-spinning wizards in a pit of knaves!

RENAISSANCE RAVE!
Jousting for glory on a laser-lit stage!

RENAISSANCE RAVE!
No gods, just rogues in velvet capes!

Raise thy mug, let dragons rage!

Renaissance Rave

Pick a filter, draft your lie
Smile dead behind the eye
Craft your pitch, sell your soul
Barcoded, packaged, a fragment of whole

Swipe me up, swipe me down
Snack in a plastic crown
Feelings, Shelf-stable
Pre-scripted, the label

Shop for affection like deodorant
Leave behind what feels inconvenient
Another profile, another fix
Another checkout, dopamine tricks

“Do you believe in fate?”
“Not since aisle eight.”

WELCOME TO SWIPE RITE!
Hope stocked, souls expire.

WELCOME TO SWIPE RITE! 
Try on people, clearance rack 
Doesn't fit? Just take it back.

Three brands of loneliness.
Four kinds of compatibility.
Two aisles of "Just looking"

Pay us now with your soul, 
another match, another troll!
Ring the bell, auto-reply, 
no returns, no good-bye.

WELCOME TO SWIPE RITE! 
Become a one-and-only product page!

WELCOME TO SWIPE RITE!
We match, we chat, we fade, we rage!

WELCOME TO SWIPE RITE!
Now featuring "Connection Lite!”

WELCOME TO SWIPE RITE!
Open late for trauma night!

“Thank you for visiting Swipe Rite."

Please don't forget your baggage on the way out.
Please don't forget your baggage on the way out.
Please don't forget your baggage on the way out.
Please don't forget your baggage on the way out.

Welcome to SWIPE RITE

Glitch-gendered, chaos-styled,
Born in a box but dancing in the funeral pyre

You say "she" or "he", I say "ME"
I’m the scream in the church of conformity
You preach silence — I'll spit glitter
Watch me auto-tune my middle finger

It's not rebellion, it’s revelation
Dysphoria into detonation

WE IDENTIFY AS LOUD!
Don’t care how it’s “supposed to sound”

WE IDENTIFY AS LOUD!
Crank the bass
piss off the proud,
Our existence is a strobe-lit crown—

WE IDENTIFY AS LOUD!
Don’t care how it’s “supposed to sound”

....Let's throw this whole place DOWN!

My pronouns are LOUD / AF
Stomped your opinion down my path 
My soul is a banger in heels,
And my vibe is whatever feels real

I got they/them rage and party-core pride
An aesthetic so bright it makes fascists hide
A walking rave, a screaming beam,
A pronoun parade with a fog machine

Paint my nails in every shade —
And write my name on a live grenade

WE IDENTIFY AS LOUD!
Don’t care how it’s “supposed to sound”

WE IDENTIFY AS LOUD!
Crank the bass
piss off the proud,
Our existence is a strobe-lit crown—

WE IDENTIFY AS LOUD!
Don’t care how it’s “supposed to sound”

....Let's throw this whole place DOWN

WE IDENTIFY AS LOUD

Loving and mixing all kinds of electronic music. New to this

JUST JOSHUA is a cyberpunk future humanoid from outer space...

New tracks tagged #Partycore