Bassboy and Klaudia Keziah Took Me Back to a Rave I Barely Remember with Luv Letters

As soon as I hit play on Luv Letters, I was back in one of my first raves. I think it was Lakota in Bristol, though I can’t for the life of me remember what the night was called. What I do remember is the lineup was bassline heavy, the speakers were sweating, and I was way too underdressed for February.

That’s the funny thing about music how just a few seconds can fling you straight back into a moment, uninvited. One tiny sound and boom: you’re 18 again, in a dark room, in shoes that don’t make sense, grinning at someone you’ll never speak to again. Luv Letters did that for me.

Truth is, I don’t really listen to bassline like that anymore. It’s not a genre I’d say I know inside out. But this? I felt it. There’s something about bassline that holds so much memory it’s a genre soaked in nostalgia, in the way old MSN chats or BBM pings are. So even if I’m not rinsing it on the daily, I get why this song hits.

And writing about it felt like paying respect to a sound that shaped so many nights I didn’t even realise were forming memories at the time.

Bassboy and Klaudia Keziah’s Luv Letters opens like a flashback. Literally. The kind of 2-step skip that used to rattle your whole chest in a club. The production has that clean-dirty feel, like a polished shoe stepping in a puddle. Maybe that's a terrible analogy but you know what I mean.

Klaudia’s vocals come in like someone reading a love note out loud but halfway through, realising they don’t believe a word of it anymore. There’s warmth, but there’s distance. Soft, but not weak. She floats above the beat with this lightness.

The track itself is about someone trying to win back trust they already buried. Writing sweet letters. Saying all the right things but too late. You know that kind of relationship where every apology starts sounding like a remix of the last one? Yeah. That.

It doesn’t reinvent bassline, it reminds you why it worked in the first place. It sounds like memory. Like drama in a kebab shop. Like dancing through heartbreak. Like healing, but on a night out.

Even if this genre isn’t your everyday listening, there’s something here for everyone who’s ever been lied to… then lied to again. And for those of us who remember our first rave or can’t quite remember it, but know it happened - Luv Letters feels like flipping open an old folder in your mind and finding a song you didn’t know you missed.