Landrose – BRUT

BRUT, the second full-length release from Belgian solo artist Landrose, is one of those records that burst with energy from scratch to finish. From the first second to the last, the record pulses with energy, vehemence, and an uncompromising sense of direction. It pulls you in, spins you around, and hurls you forward with expertly crafted and performed instrumentations. Landrose operates where digital hardcore, breakbeat, experimental electronica, and noise rock intersect. These are not ordinary genres here, they are raw materials that the artist uses to his advantage. BRUT deconstructs them, reassembles them, and then blasts the result. The outcome is blistering. It is also strangely elegant. At the core of this album is rhythm. Not just any rhythm, but an ever-transforming architecture of beats that feels immensely alive. Temprano, a drummer by training and instinct, doesn’t treat percussion as background. He lets it lead. Each track is built upon a shifting floor of rhythm, classic breakbeat, harsh hardcore blasts, sharp techno cuts, and the fragmented chatter of glitch. There are moments of trance, dance, and chaos. Yet nothing feels random here. His control behind the storm is unquestionable.

BRUT is not noise for the sake of noise. It is noise as precision. Beneath the abrasion lies intent. Each beat is placed with care. The drums do not just follow patterns. This record is a rhythmic thesis, a showcase of drumming vocabulary presented with the fury of hardcore punk and the clarity of electronica. It’s a vivid demonstration of sonic propulsion. That rhythmic intelligence is matched and often challenged by the basslines. They are thick, brutal, and perfectly tuned to support the record’s aggressive pace. But more than that, they are textured. The bass snarls and twists, stretching itself across layers of distortion. Sometimes it chugs like industrial machinery. Sometimes it growls like a living creature. In every case, it deepens the tension that runs through the album. For all its violence, this is not an album without heart. That emotional guidance comes largely from the synths. They lead, they narrate, they reflect. These are not ornamental melodies. They are signposts. In the haze of distortion and the storm of percussion, the synths offer shape. They provide contrast and suggest beauty within fury. There is grace in this chaos. Each track follows a path, even if the route is winding. Landrose does not build static soundscapes. He creates journeys that stretch, break apart, and reform. There are moments of pure aggression. But there are also pauses, turns, and unexpected flourishes of light and tone. These compositions breathe and are never predictable, as they evolve in real time.

The balance between abrasive energy and compositional ambition is deeply experimental, yet never alienating. It plays with structure, but it never loses pulse. There are countless technical decisions at play, complex meter shifts, layered textures, and subtle tempo changes, but the listening experience is physical. The record does not sit politely in the background. During some moments, the album seems almost too much, in the best possible way. It overwhelms. But that intensity is precisely the point. This is an album born from live performance, and it retains that kinetic haste. You hear the sweat, the momentum, the electricity of a room filled with sound. And yet, every detail feels sculpted. The production, handled by Temprano himself, is done with such precision and finesse, holding the fury in focus. BRUT also has depth. The mix is dense but never muddied. High frequencies slice through like blades. Lows rumble like tectonic shifts. Mid-range textures scrape, shimmer, and shatter. This is audio as sculpture. Every element is carved to fit into the frame of the whole. There is also some sort of narrative here. It doesn’t tell a literal story, but it traces a movement, through tension, collapse, rebuilding, and eruption. It captures the volatility of life under pressure, the beauty of resistance, and the thrill of survival. This is political music without slogans. It is personal music without confession. It is music about motion. About pushing forward, breaking apart, and becoming something new. Landrose is a rare artist who managed to create a compromise between noise and structure. He somehow blended brutality with class, in the best possible way.

This album marks a high point not only for Landrose but for the broader underground music scene. It expands what digital hardcore can be. It reshapes how we hear rhythm. It is a record made with fists, thought, passion, and skill. BRUT is a rock-solid demonstration from an artist who seems incapable of sitting still. It is a monumental document of control and chaos, of intellect and instinct, of sweat and circuitry. This collection of powerful tracks shakes the ground under your feet. But it also plants something there. A beat, a tone, a memory of movement. It’s a must-listen for anyone who appreciates digital hardcore music.