Make Believe Love Drops “Delay Deny Depose” and Connects With Us to Discuss the Track’s Bold Vision
- STAFF
- 1 day ago
- 6 min read
By: Staff
“Delay Deny Depose” is a blistering, genre-defying anthem that masterfully blends punk, satire, and unflinching social critique.
Make Believe Love is back with a fiercely electrifying new track, “Delay Deny Depose.” The song hits hard with its lo-fi melodies, a blistering critique of the systems that govern our lives, and an unexpectedly playful 16-bit aesthetic that collides with sharp political messaging.
We spoke with the mastermind behind it all, diving deep into the chaos and satire of a track that pulls no punches. From the twisted, timely references to real-world figures, to the haunting humor that weaves throughout, we get a glimpse of the world through the eyes of an artist who blends punk roots, indie rock, and biting social commentary with ease.
In this conversation, we explore the journey behind the video’s throwback visuals, the creative process that gave birth to the track, and how the artist channels the madness of modern-day capitalism into something uniquely poignant. What drives this artist to use satire as a weapon, and how does the blend of humor and serious critique connect with listeners today? We also dive into the evolution of the song itself, the influence of collaborations, and the personal stories and inspirations that continue to shape the music.
Get ready to discover the power behind “Delay Deny Depose”, and the artist making waves one track at a time.
Here’s how it went:
Begin Interview:
Hello Make Believe Love, we’re thrilled to have you here for this interview! We've had an amazing time exploring your music and diving into your creative journey. Now, we’re even more intrigued to get a deeper look into both your brand and your personal and professional inspirations.
Q. We loved the VEVO video for “Delay Deny Depose.” … When did you first discover your uncanny ability to capture such introspective yet comedic elements, and what was it like recording with the intention of sharing that with a worldwide audience?
A. One discovers such abilities the same way one discovers mould—quietly, in some forgotten corner, and far too late to do anything about it. Comedy came naturally because without it, tragedy becomes unendurable, and without tragedy, comedy becomes the shrill laughter of idiots. A “worldwide audience” is the sort of polite delusion publicists like to peddle; if the song makes it past my immediate acquaintances and into the trembling ears of an insomniac in France, then it is international enough. I simply hope that in some dimly lit flat, someone hears both the laugh and the knife.
Q. Luigi from Mario Brothers is an intriguing character … What inspired you to blend classic video game imagery with such a dark, politically charged message?
A. The most famous Luigi in the world was there for the taking, and to make him a proxy for Luigi Mangione—a real man mired in modern cruelty—was irresistible. SNES graphics have that tender way of rendering atrocity as if it were a picnic. My Bowser is Brian Thompson, the corporate ghoul of UnitedHealthcare, resurrected not to repent but to dance with Luigi. It’s Super Mario Bros. recast as the Book of Revelation, only with better hair. You laugh before you know why, and by then it’s too late.
Q. Your time in punk environments … How do those experiences influence the way you choose the themes you write about?
A. Punk was my first church, with sermons delivered through cheap amplifiers and holy water replaced by flat beer. I learned to howl like I meant it and to distrust anyone who carried themselves as if they were a museum piece. I saw bands tear themselves open for audiences of twelve, half of whom were employed by the bar. That taught me to write for crowds both magnificent and pitiful. Mostly, I learned that self-importance is the last refuge of the creatively bankrupt.
Q. Since "Delay Deny Depose" critiques late-stage capitalism … Does the power of the internet seem to be having an impact on your message?
A. The internet is merely the high-speed delivery system for idiocy—it can misinterpret faster than you can think. Once, you could release something and be gloriously misquoted in Spin six months later; now you’re declared a war criminal before lunch. Still, there is comfort in knowing strangers across the globe are equally appalled by the same circus. Less comforting is TikTok’s refusal to run my ads, presumably because reality is now considered “off-brand.”
Q. You’ve mentioned the theme of male loneliness … How do you think the culture around masculinity contributes, and how do you channel that?
A. Masculinity in America is like a gym membership you never signed up for—inescapable, overpriced, and punishing whether you use it or not. It insists you remain stoic until you collapse, and then mocks you for collapsing. My songs live in that limbo between expectation and truth. Less “sad man with guitar,” more “sad man swaying at his own wake.” My audience? The shut-ins, the overworked, the underpaid, and anyone intelligent enough to be bored by modern life.
Q. Humor or absurdity in tackling heavy topics … meant to help us digest or connect?
A. Humor is the velvet glove; absurdity is the hand inside it. You’ll take the medicine and think it pleasant, until you realise it’s poison. Newman, Zevon, the Ramones—they all knew that the sacred must be mocked, and the profane must be mocked harder. Nothing, and no one, deserves protection from ridicule.
Q. Louie Diller from HOLYCHILD … What did his involvement add?
A. Louie is a rare thing in music: a person who understands the difference between chaos and mess. Left alone, my version of this song would have sounded like the accidental recording of a nervous breakdown. Louie turned it into something people might actually want to hear. He plays as well as he produces, though when I suggest he take lead vocals, he insists I must remain the lightning rod.
Q. “Delay Deny Depose” show benefiting your legal defense fund … what happened?
A. Not my legal defense—yet. The proceeds go to Luigi Mangione. Still, in a land where singing about corporate greed is considered at best vulgar and at worst a prelude to imprisonment, I’m keeping the receipts.
Q. "Hook-laden songs that smuggle in critiques" … How many fans are oblivious?
A. Enough to keep the lights on. If they only want the surface gloss, they may have it. If they want to dig and find the teeth beneath, they’re welcome to do that too. Either way, the song wins.
Q. "Satire reigns supreme" … Always your method?
A. Yes, from the beginning. If you cannot laugh at a thing, it has colonised your soul. I make the monstrous absurd because absurdity is the only weapon I have left.
Q. How do you handle backlash from misinterpretation?
A. I don’t. To explain is to demean. If someone thinks the song applauds what it condemns, they are deaf to everything except the sound of their own voice.
Q. How did you land on the title “Delay Deny Depose”?
A. I believed, wrongly, that Luigi had etched the words on his shell casings. In truth, they read “Delay Deny Defend”—the hymn of the insurance industry. My version was a mistake, but mistakes are the only form of honesty left in the arts.
Q. Where does production magic begin?
A. Alone, hunched over a laptop, pretending to understand EQ while the world rots outside. Then Louie applies his strange alchemy and it emerges whole, like Lazarus, but with better rhythm.
Q. Any lyrics that hit especially hard?
A. “Your daddy got a stroke and then they hit him with a lien”—that’s America boiled down to ten words. Or “Luigi was hunched like a question mark’s hook / Then he pulled out his answer and history shook”—a crooked body delivering a straight verdict.
Q. Meaning behind ‘Make Believe Love’?
A. From a Velvet Underground performance: Lou Reed spoke lovingly of an electric fireplace, comparing it to “make believe love.” A flame without heat. A lover without sincerity. Both decorative, both useless.
Q. What’s next?
A. “Kid with a Dad Bod,” a plodding hymn to male desolation, and “34,” which asks what adulthood actually means, and answers: almost nothing. Hooks, dread, and perhaps a dance beat to distract from the Kafkaesque lyric sheet.
Make Believe Love, thank you so much, we appreciate you taking the time to talk to us!
End Interview
We’re happy to have shared Make Believe Love’s exciting journey with you and uncovered such inspiring insights about their creative process.
