KPT – Claw: Ripping Through the Static with Sonic Teeth

Review By Ian Walker

In a world oversaturated with plug-and-play EDM presets and formulaic industrial tropes, KPT (pronounced “KEPT”) refuses to be boxed in. His new EP Claw, released independently in 2025, is a visceral, spine-twisting descent into fractured noise, electronic chaos, and dark experimental terrain. But this isn’t just noise for noise’s sake—this is a work of raw, surgical intention. A sharpened blade crafted by one of Minneapolis’ most formidable sonic architects.

Across three tracks—“Dig,” “Rip,” and “Tear”—KPT carves out a new space in the dark electronic underground, blending harsh industrial textures with artful restraint and an unsettling, cinematic edge. Each track clocks in at over 10 minutes, not because they ramble, but because they unfold—slow-burning sonic dissections that challenge, provoke, and, ultimately, mesmerize.

One of the most compelling aspects of KPT’s work is his dedication to live performance as a foundational component of his studio output. These are not sterile, DAW-sequenced collages; they’re echoes from smoke-filled venues, shaped by sweat, reverb, and the kinetic exchange between performer and crowd. Each element in Claw is sourced from live arrangements, a practice that gives these tracks a raw, breathing presence rarely heard in electronic music.

“Dig” kicks off the EP with a mechanical heartbeat—a pulse that grows denser and more distorted as layers of glitch, sub-bass, and sonic grit pile on. It’s haunting and cavernous, as if you’re descending into the earth with each throbbing kick. Around the five-minute mark, the track shifts—scraping textures make way for ghostly synth drones and fractured rhythms. It’s a slow, oppressive crawl, but one that rewards active listening with unsettling beauty.

“Rip” is an entirely different beast—wider in scope, more aggressive in tone. It opens with a high-frequency sizzle, like feedback being torn apart by invisible claws. Rhythmic stabs explode through the mix, propelled by subversive beats that would make even Nine Inch Nails sit up and take notice. KPT’s control over sonic tension here is masterful—nothing is accidental. Just when the chaos threatens to implode, he reins it in, creating brief moments of silence or ambient drift before plunging back into the void.

“Tear” closes the EP on a devastating high. It begins with droning synths that shimmer like broken glass under moonlight. The percussion here is more fragmented—less driven by rhythm, more by atmosphere and implication. This is the soundtrack to a world collapsing in slow motion. There’s something elegiac about it, as if KPT is mourning the loss of structure, predictability, or even hope. But like all great art, it’s ambiguous. It lets you feel without forcing you to decide what you’re feeling.

KPT is not a newcomer looking to ride trends—he’s a sculptor of sound with real pedigree. His work has received Grammy recognition, appeared on respected labels including David Lynch’s record imprint, GIVE/TAKE, and Cleopatra Records, and he’s collaborated or shared stages with the likes of Die Antwoord, Justice, The Orb, Blanck Mass, and Alan Sparhawk of Low.

While many in the noise and industrial scenes lean into aesthetic posturing or overly academic abstraction, KPT hits a rare sweet spot—Claw is fiercely intelligent, unapologetically visceral, and, dare we say, weirdly beautiful. His use of space, silence, and textural layering is on par with pioneers like Ben Frost or Tim Hecker, but with the raw edge of acts like KMFDM or Youth Code.

The production, while intentionally jagged and abrasive, never feels sloppy or indulgent. This is the sound of an artist in full control of his tools, using chaos as a palette rather than a gimmick.

Claw is not easy listening, nor is it meant to be. It’s a bruising, beautiful, and disorienting journey—equal parts catharsis and confrontation. For those willing to dive deep, this is one of the most essential experimental electronic releases of the year.

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Tracklist – KPT: Claw (EP)

1. Dig – 11:12
2. Rip – 12:07
3. Tear – [Duration not listed]