The Racing Pulses Say “Subtle Hurts”

In an era where music is at its most experimental, splintering into sub-genres (and sub-genres of sub-genres) at an astronomical pace, bands like The Racing Pulses stand as living proof of rock’s staying power. Singer-songwriter and frontman Kristian Petrov Iliev founded the group in 2012, and since then, The Racing Pulses have become a staple of Madison, Wisconsin’s vibrant music scene—captivating audiences worldwide with their infectious energy and electrifying live performances. Their debut album, Nothing to Write Home About (2017), climbed the Billboard charts—earning popular and critical acclaim and paving the way for an international tour in Bulgaria just a year later.

Citing Arctic Monkeys as one of his major influences, Iliev often channels his own experiences—including his Bulgarian roots—into songs brimming with sincerity and bite. With a sharp ear for rhythm and a knack for hooks that linger, The Racing Pulses have proven time and time again they’re far more than just a hometown garage band—they’re a creative force to be reckoned with. Their most ambitious project yet is just over the horizon: a bubbling cauldron of ’80s allure, Bulgarian heritage, restless angst, and pure rock bliss—a collection curated to get pulses racing, sparks flying, and amps roaring from Madison to Sofia and beyond.

From the outside looking in, the life of a professional musician can seem like one spent in the lap of luxury—performing for crowds of adoring fans, pouring their hearts into timeless anthems, and turning lifelong passion into a fruitful career. It’s easy to assume creatives have it easy. But the reality is far different. Many never come close to enjoying the spoils of fame and fortune, instead finding themselves caught in an exhausting cycle of constraints, setbacks, and scams. Achieving true artistic expression can feel nearly impossible when the industry demands so much and gives back so little.

With the help of GRAMMY-nominated mastering engineer Brian Lucey (The Black Keys, Juanes, Lizzo), “Subtle Hurts” swaggers with a quiet, spiteful venom—straight from someone who’s lived it. Over a fuzzed-out bassline, wailing metallic guitar riffs, and booming tom drums, Iliev doesn’t hold back: these “Subtle Hurts” sting. Taking hit after hit exacts a heavy toll, wearing down not just the creative spirit but the soul—the person inside who struggles every day to stay authentic, fighting off creeping feelings of disillusionment. “I feel the weight, like many artists do, of expectation in the music industry and of the need to make money, to be entertaining, to fulfill the expectations that I have and that others have of me,” says Kristian. “The question is: How do we manage or cope with them?”

In the very first shot, the camera suddenly snaps into focus, revealing a striking abstract painting—a flurry of sweeping brush strokes, vivid colors, figurative motifs—the handiwork of local artist Chase Bisson. It’s the first taste of the off-kilter atmosphere brought to life in collaboration with Madison filmmaker Claudia Krogmeier, a specialist in experimental visual storytelling, whose open-ended narratives steeped in metaphor and surrealism prove the perfect partner to expand the scope of the “Subtle Hurts” music video.

Wielding his eye-catching Eastwood Moonsault, Iliev and his bandmates perform with suave nonchalance, as if playing together is the most natural thing in the world. It’s not until they shovel forkfuls of cake into their mouths that things start to go haywire. In an instant, everything unravels—transforming something as precious as creative expression into a mess of sickly sweet desolation. As the band plays out this uniquely unsettling metaphor, it becomes clear that for The Racing Pulses, music videos and avant-garde art can be the same—two mediums working in tandem to illuminate not just the struggles of the devoted creative, but also the “destructive politics our world endures,” as Petrov Iliev puts it. “As both an artist and an intellectual, I know and feel a duty to fight evil, educate others, and draw attention to the answers I believe could be most beneficial,” he says. And that’s exactly what “Subtle Hurts” is—a bold confrontation of the cost of creation, and the courage it takes to keep playing anyway.

What was the first spark behind “Subtle Hurts” and its theme of creative pressure?

Kristian: I knew I wanted to move in a heavier and darker direction, because life also has its shadows. Art lives with you if you really care about your art, and there is always this pressure, a need for it to exist. Later, I reflected on how I was grateful for the success of the first Racing Pulses album, yet I found a situation where the landscape of live music has changed so much in recent years. This has a lot to do with the aftermath of the pandemic and lots of venues shutting down. Even though it sometimes seems like independent artists have more choices than ever, industry support is diluted, making it difficult to maintain a schedule of important releases and tours. And it is not just about finances or the pressures musicians put on themselves. I think the better that you are, the more that others expect of you. Musicians can question their art and its reach, or how worthwhile it is in the frame of actualizing it, and some fans also wonder why their favorite artists aren’t doing better.

You’ve talked about influences like Arctic Monkeys—how did those inspirations shape the vibe of this new track?

Kristian: During or after I had written the track,  I really liked the staccato nature of Arctic Monkeys’ “Old Yellow Bricks” from Favorite Worst Nightmare. I tried to make “Subtle Hurts” different from that song. Two of the most defining elements of my song are the flanger effect that I used on the guitar, and the drums that sound colossal thanks to Mike, who really honed his dynamics and drum patterns before recording. I also thank sound engineers Yeekeng Yang and Jake Johnson at Paradyme Productions for their efforts, as well as mastering engineer Brian Lucey out in Los Angeles, who I sought out because I really enjoyed his work on the fifth Arctic Monkeys album, AM. It is worth mentioning that before I started playing guitar more seriously, I was more interested in the drums. Growing up listening to a lot of 70s and 80s rock music, I wanted the song to have that epic stadium sound I associate with those eras.

The lyrics feel brutally honest. What helped you open up about the realities artists face?

Kristian: It wasn’t difficult for me, and I have lived a number of the highs and lows of the rock star lifestyle. People who know me well in real life know that I enjoy having honest conversations and sharing opinions about life, love, sport, business, and whatever else I feel like talking about. You can find what I would call “critiques” in the lyrics of songs I’ve written before, such as “Virtual Reality” and “Intricate.” Truly moving music, and especially live music, is in danger if we ignore the cost of what it takes to produce and share it, which is simply the cost of almost anything we love: time, money, and our peace. It felt like time to broadcast my message about this.

Brian Lucey brought serious polish to the master. What stood out to you about working with him?

Kristian: Brian is a no-nonsense professional, and he helped score the winning goal with the first pass he shared. That’s probably why he’s worked on so many hit records; he just operates on a fast and intuitive level. Brian’s studio is called Magic Garden Mastering, and he truly can add some magic. To me, mastering is better experienced than described. Brian helped the drum, bass, and guitar sounds almost fuse into a singular, heavy instrument. There is just this clarity he added as well, especially in the lower frequencies, which makes it sound like the band is a sonic arrow flying between the hemispheres of my brain.

The video mixes art, performance, and metaphor. How did you and Claudia decide on that experimental style?

Kristian: Claudia communicated about her preferred style and interests, and I was committed to giving her most of the creative control because I think what she accomplishes is unique. She excels at giving useful instructions and being particular about details to achieve her favored video aesthetics. I spent the bulk of my preparation time prior to the shoot discussing her ideas with her and searching for props. Although I usually enjoy taking a leading role with creative direction, the initial ideas she shared with me almost immediately struck me as powerful and easy-to-understand in such a short format.

Filming the scenes after the cake was cut and we turned into zombies or whatever quickly became uncomfortable, so I am thankful Dylan and Mike believed enough in the vision to join us during what was a messy film shoot. I insisted on shots of the band playing the song because they add some variety. The wonderful idea to include the painting by Chase Bisson was something Claudia informed me of, and I think that connects the lyrics to the scenes together nicely.

Your next project sounds ambitious—what can fans expect from this new era of The Racing Pulses?

Kristian: The Dark Balkan Tsar is not just my next studio album: It is a deep expression of my identity, the next phase of my life, and a peaceful mission I care for, as well as a musical and visual quest which will span all this lore, history, and mystery. The Dark Balkan Tsar is a figure who is upset with the current condition of the region, and arrives to save, respect, and reflect on the Balkans. “Subtle Hurts” is the first single from this album of some of my best and most meaningful songs, and both I and my bandmates supporting me feel musically better than ever. I will be a character, sometimes singing in Bulgarian, sharing music both similar and unlike earlier Racing Pulses songs.

Overall, I think of it as an alternative rock concept album, which will bring fans music with stories connected to my experience of life and the world, while also drawing attention to the political and cultural history of the region, as well as the controversy and corruption of today. It’s a love letter to my identity, a protest against divisive, weak politics, and a reminder of how important it is to focus on commonalities to help establish more peace, respect, independence, and economic opportunity in the Balkans. There was an article about The Racing Pulses earlier this month, which expressed some interesting takes, one of which was about “rock’s staying power.” Many people are worried about saving rock and roll. I am more confident in rock and roll’s staying power than I am in the security and future of the Balkans!

Before we wrap, what do you hope listeners take away from “Subtle Hurts,” especially those feeling weighed down by expectations?

Kristian: Think of the sacrifices and efforts you make in pursuit of what you want, and even if you feel defeated, try to celebrate yourself for taking action in your life and identifying what is worthwhile to you. There can be much that is not up to us in life, but I wish more people understood how important it is to honor yourself. The distance between your most cherished dreams and your current situation may be less than others believe. It is also healthy to be aware of what is working against you, and not just spending time and resources without contemplating this matter carefully. My favorite message in “Subtle Hurts” is that even if only you have the best understanding of where you are, what you’ve been through, or what you are up against, you have to be honest with yourself at some point to give yourself a chance to flourish.