Unholy ft. Sam Smith
Kim Petras
A pulsing, cathedral-dark electropop track built on thudding kick drums and a bassline that feels like something sacred being desecrated. The production is maximalist in the most deliberate way — choir stabs, ominous synth swells, and a beat that moves with the inevitability of a procession. Sam Smith's verses carry a confessional weight, their voice honeyed and hushed like a secret being whispered in the wrong place, while Kim Petras arrives on the chorus like neon lighting flooding a church nave. The song lives in the tension between guilt and desire, chronicling infidelity not with shame but with a kind of gleeful transgression — the thrill of doing exactly what you know you shouldn't. Petras's voice is airy but precise, floating above the heaviness of the production with deliberate lightness. Culturally, this is peak 2022 pop: queer artists reclaiming religious imagery, turning Sunday school anxiety into Saturday night anthems. It borrows the aesthetic language of reverence and inverts it completely. You'd reach for this at the exact moment a night out tips from polite to properly unhinged — pre-drinks with the lights low, everyone already a little too dressed up for what's about to happen.
medium
2020s
dark, cathedral, polished
British and German-American, queer pop
Pop, Electronic. dark electropop. euphoric, defiant. Builds from a hushed, confessional whisper of guilt into a neon-lit chorus that inverts the sacred into gleeful, unapologetic transgression.. energy 8. medium. danceability 8. valence 7. vocals: dual vocals: honeyed androgynous confessional verses, precise airy female chorus floating above the bass. production: choir stabs, ominous synth swells, thudding kick drums, cathedral-dark maximalism. texture: dark, cathedral, polished. acousticness 1. era: 2020s. British and German-American, queer pop. Pre-drinks with the lights low, everyone already a little too dressed up for what is about to happen.