The song begins like a warning flare in the dark, a synth cutting through static air with the kind of charge that feels both mechanical and human. Black Hall (Tanner Dean and Errol Kern) aren’t hiding in the underground anymore; they’re dragging the smoke, the neon, the broken glass of their influences into a track that feels like a declaration. Their latest synth pop single, Hypocrite, is a broadcast from the wreckage of a love gone sour, a signal wired with heartbreak and precision.
What sets Hypocrite apart is the duo’s balance of cool sophistication and raw edge. The production gleams, but it never loses its bite. The atmosphere recalls long nights in clubs where the music feels dangerous, where it locks you in with a bassline and refuses to let go until dawn. Italo-disco ghosts linger in the mix, post-punk scars ripple beneath the surface, and psych-rock swirls flicker in the corners—yet the song feels unmistakably theirs.
Dean takes the reins here, programming drums that hit with the cool regularity of machinery while his synths hum with menace. His voice carries the story: part accusation, part confession, delivered with a weary edge that turns bitterness into poetry. Kern layers in shadow textures, subtle but essential, the sort of accents that make a song bleed mood. Together, they map out the collapse of a relationship where ideals dissolve into disillusion, where promises fray and unravel under the weight of reality.
At its core, Hypocrite is about betrayal and belief colliding; about the weight of expectation crushing whatever fragile truth two people once shared. Black Hall translates that collapse into sound: tense, layered, alive. There’s a cinematic streak running throughout; it feels like it belongs on a screen, underscoring the scene where someone storms out into the night, cigarette burning down, words left unsaid. The synth line slithers and then strikes, while the drum machines march forward with brutal discipline. Yet within that rigid framework, Dean and Kern allow emotion to pour through the cracks. You can hear the ache in every refrain, the tension between control and collapse.
It’s a track that dances through disappointment with precision and poise, leaving you waiting for whatever comes next from these LA-based artists, who clearly know the charge of heartbreak can power more than memory…it can power a song that cuts like this.
Listen to “Hypocrite” below:
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