Brodka - Brut (LP) - Marble Vinyl

Brodka’s Brut lands with the cool heft of poured concrete. In May 2021, the Polish shape‑shifter pushed away from the baroque art pop of her earlier work and leaned into a taut, post‑punk snarl that suits her to a tee. The title is a clue. These songs are all sharp lines and raw textures, built from serrated guitars, clipped drums and synths that buzz like fluorescent lights in an old municipal building. It is a record about surfaces and structure, but it moves with a beating heart.

“Game Change” sets the pace early, all prowling bass and tight percussion, with Brodka spitting out lines that feel like warnings and invitations at once. Her English‑language delivery has an unforced bite, the sort of phrasing that makes simple hooks feel dangerous. “Hey Man” follows with a rush of adrenalised rhythm and scorched‑edge guitar, a crowd‑pleaser even on first spin. Then “Sadness” slides in on a colder breeze, the vocal more reflective, the arrangement sketching empty spaces as carefully as it fills them. Across the album she keeps the palette lean. Guitars slash and stop, drums hit like steel on stone, synths provide the chill.

You can hear nods to post‑punk lineage without any museum air. There is some of the snap of early New Wave and a touch of industrial pulse, but the songwriting stays front and centre. Choruses arrive quickly and stick around, not by shouting louder, but by folding in small details that keep tugging at the ear. A guitar squeal that mirrors a vocal line, a cymbal choke that closes the door on a verse, a synth note that hangs for a fraction too long. It all feels considered and physical, like a building you want to walk around just to see how the light hits it.

Brodka’s voice is the anchor. She can cut through a busy arrangement with a single held note, then drop to a near whisper and pull you closer. Lyrically, she circles power and performance, image and flesh. Not grand statements, more side‑long looks and barbed asides. The themes fit the sound. Brut flirts with armour, yet leaves room for bruises to show. When the tempo eases, the record never sags; it takes on a low, coiled tension that suits her writing.

Production wise, Brut is clean but not sterile. The edges are left rough where they should be, so the snare has bite, the bass has actual weight, and the synths feel like hardware, not soft‑focus padding. Headphones reveal little clicks and thumps that suggest rooms, hands, and air. Spin it loud on a decent setup and the whole thing snaps into focus, the rhythm section locking into a firm grid while the vocals sit just forward enough to command attention.

For collectors, this is the sort of release that begs for the shelf. The artwork carries the aesthetic through, and the mastering gives the low end room to breathe. If you see Brodka vinyl in the wild, do not hesitate. Brut vinyl is a satisfying press that rewards volume, and it sits nicely alongside other Brodka albums on vinyl for a weekend session. If you like to buy Brodka records online, you will find that this one turns up steadily, though clean copies do not linger. Crate diggers hunting vinyl records Australia wide will know the feeling of spotting a copy and making a beeline for the counter.

Brut also works as an entry point if you are new to Brodka. It distils her knack for melody and image into something immediate, but it does not sand down the edges. There is enough bite to keep repeat plays interesting, and enough hooks to make those repeats inevitable. The sequencing helps; faster cuts trade off with slower burns so your ear never goes numb. By the back stretch you realise how cohesive it all is. The mood holds, the quality holds, and the finish makes you want to flip the record and start again.

In a year crowded with polished pop and laptop gloom, Brut felt tactile and alive. It sounded like effort and sweat, like rehearsals in a cold room and a clear idea of the final shape. That vision is what sets it apart. Not an exercise in style, but a set of sturdy, memorable songs dressed in concrete and chrome. If you are browsing at a Melbourne record store and spot it tucked in the Bs, trust your instinct. Take it home, turn it up, and let the architecture do its work.