The Kiss That Took A Trip Opens the Vault on “Thirty In Twenty: The Collection”

Twenty years is a long time to keep a secret society running out of one room, yet The Kiss That Took A Trip marks exactly that milestone with “Thirty In Twenty: The Collection.” Formed in Madrid in 2006, the project has always belonged to M. D. Trello alone. He produces everything himself, skips touring altogether, and hands his music out on a pay only if you wish basis, backing free music and Creative Commons licensing. That stubborn generosity hums through all thirty tracks here, built mostly from computers and synthetic sounds and proudly lo-fi in its grain.

Early on, loyalty takes the wheel. “Skull and crossbones” rallies a tight-knit crew around a punchy low-end pattern and a chorus that swells into a full anthem of brotherhood and defiance. It sets the tone for a retrospective that wanders freely through 90s-style alternative rock, post-rock, electronica, ambient and experimental corners, while keeping one foot planted near the mainstream.

The darker turns are where I kept leaning closer. “The truth about Lucifer” drifts through cold darkwave, its subdued melody sinking under the weight of a draining, deceptive relationship. “Crapola” pairs a looping, hazy dream-pop figure with creeping dread, and “Everything is disappointing” turns modern weariness into restless post-punk momentum, cynical yet oddly energizing. Then “Goodbye horses” rises from a sparse, hypnotic start into a dense, echoing climax that feels like finally setting down something heavy.

Some of the strongest moments carry no words at all. “Happy birthday party monster” floats through a cosmic, slow-blooming ambient space, and “Fangs” swells into shimmering, cinematic warmth before settling back into calm. “Flower of gas and smoke” is the boldest swing, a solemn blend of synthwave and post-rock that meditates on witnessing a world-altering event and the terror of becoming an agent of destruction.

The Kiss That Took A Trip Opens the Vault on “Thirty In Twenty: The Collection”

The new material keeps the whole thing from turning into a museum tour. “Forevermore” is a dance single with urgent synth-pop lift, devotion pulsing beneath its anxiety about losing what matters most. The reworked “Vanilla killer” glides through post-punk gloom about gossip and lingering resentment, and the piano ballad “We are what we protect” looks back at the passing of time with open-hearted nostalgia. “Mimosa” and a fresh take on “Three girls” round out the additions.

Melody and atmosphere beat technical flash every single time here, and that choice gives the collection its strange intimacy. How does one person, working alone for two decades, make solitude sound this much like company?