Underdog Superstar Finds Strength in Consistency

As of late, the lush sounds of 2000s club music have found a second life online, revived by a community of artists and producers putting modern twists on the era’s iconic supersaws, booming drums, and lyrical obsession with excess. Rsieh Raxan has already explored this sound through releases like Splint+ (2025) and Soft Launch (2026), but his newest project, Underdog Superstar, is his most cohesive realization of it yet. Combining top-tier 2000s swag production with Raxan’s melodic vocals and introspective lyrics about romantic obsession and luxury, the album builds on his previous projects without simply recreating them. This consistency ends up giving the record identity, even when it can occasionally leave songs struggling to stand apart from each other.

Production is where Underdog Superstar turns its consistency most convincingly into a strength. Nearly every song draws from the same glossy palette, yet the project reshapes it enough to feel continuous without sounding copy-pasted across 13 tracks. Its transitions are especially polished, carrying songs into one another so naturally the project can feel like a night out at the club with an impressive DJ. Rather than letting one song fade out before resetting for the next, the album repeatedly carries its momentum across the track boundaries. The handoff from “20/10” into “Bring It Back” is a clear example: the former’s orchestral sheen melts into the latter’s bass-heavy melody without snapping the listener out of the album’s atmosphere. Reminiscent of the sounds that dominated clubs in the 2000s, the production leans on glossy leads, walls of supersaws—stacks of slightly detuned synth voices spread wide enough to turn even simple chords into a bright, sonically dominant wash—and punchy drums, frequently accented with 2000s-esque fills. More unique synths and orchestral flourishes occasionally also break up this palette. The first track, “x & o’s,” introduces the listener to this immediately—its bright supersaw melody and pumping drums transport the listener into the album’s world. The album bends that sound toward something more orchestral in tracks like “20/10,” featuring a string-laden beat contrasting with Raxan’s singing. Meanwhile, “Bring It Back” piles heavy bass onto one of the album’s catchiest melodies. Its flashy and sonically wide production gives it the sort of cruising swagger that makes it feel built to blast from a lowrider with hydraulics.

Lyrically, Raxan turns luxury, speed, clothing, travel, and status into the album’s language of romance. On “Ante Up,” Raxan treats attraction almost like a lifestyle pitch: expensive cars, speed, and instant gratification are not just mere luxuries but promises of what being with him would feel like. Likewise, “Bring It Back” casts his ability to provide whatever his partner desires as proof of his romantic value; material excess becomes a way of convincing her that he is worth choosing.

This equation, where money equals affection, could easily wear thin and become horribly shallow if the album stopped there; luckily, it doesn’t. The second verse of “Ante Up” cracks Raxan’s confidence wide open, revealing just how overwhelmed he is by his attraction, describing it as “Walkin’ on a tightrope / Got me going psycho.” “Bring It Back” strides toward a similar conclusion: beneath a relationship driven chiefly by chemistry and impulse, Raxan ultimately just wants that person around, pleading throughout the track to “please bring back that company.” The clearest version of this tension occurs on “Bet On Me.” Raxan uses gambling imagery here, asking his lover to take a chance on him so that he can prove he’s worth it. However, this confidence eventually gives way to insecurity, including his hope that he’ll ultimately be the one they choose. Yung Fazo ends up flipping the song’s central metaphor, admitting that he took a chance too, and that he might have lost.

This cohesion comes at a cost. It’s not like the album is just 44 minutes of indistinguishable 2000s swag mush—“Backdrop” hits more aggressively, while “20/10” reaches toward string-filled orchestral texture. “Don’t Like to Share,” featuring fellow 2000s swag artist zarallanie, tweaks the lyrical structure by showcasing the same romantic conflict from both sides: Raxan struggles to commit to the relationship while zarallanie demands his undivided attention. Features and occasional switches between singing and rapping create contrast within the album’s vocal palette. But still, most of the album’s variety consists of adjustments within the album’s main formula rather than drastic changes in mood or pacing. The same glossy synth textures, punchy drums, emotional register, and push-and-pull relationship dynamics recur so often that a few tracks can begin to blur together. Even the album’s immaculate transitions can exacerbate this: when two songs already occupy such similar territory, removing the boundary between them can make their individual identities even less clear. The result is an album that is rarely boring but occasionally indistinct: Raxan gives the album enough variation to keep it moving and enjoyable for its 44-minute runtime, but not always enough to stop individual songs from bleeding into one another.

Underdog Superstar succeeds because Raxan has finally mastered the sound he’s been developing across his last projects. While most of the album’s individual elements can be found scattered across his previous releases, they are brought together most effectively here, giving the album an instantly recognizable identity. Although that refinement occasionally limits the album’s variety, causing some songs to melt into the same atmosphere, the project serves as a culmination of Raxan’s sound so far and proves that refinement can be just as satisfying as experimentation.