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On "Jeep," Kim Petras detours from club-forward pop into a lightly country-tinged acoustic ballad. Co-written with Porches and produced with Nightfeelings and Eric Cross, it mixes warped guitar, heavy Auto-Tune and a funny, half-spoken outro.

When someone says “Kim Petras ballad” you can almost hear people bracing. For years Petras’s shorthand has been aggressively horny, club-first pop: glittering production, wink-and-grin lyrics, a career pivot after she left Republic that doubled down on independence. Lately she’s flirted with hyperpop textures too—the recent “Need For Speed” run with Frost Children pointed that way—so “Jeep” arrives with a small but disorienting ask: sit still for a minute.
The song trades thumping synths and neon gloss for a lightly country-tinged acoustic guitar that, in a nice choice, never stays purely pastoral. Think Madonna’s “Don’t Tell Me” not as imitation but as a reference point—a twangy guitar that gets intentionally mangled, skittering and glitching before the beat drops. Petras leans into Auto-Tune like a stylistic decision rather than a correction, smoothing edges as she sings about a repeated attraction to an ex. It’s intimate without being confessional; pensive without being sullen.
“We got history, and history repeats.”
Then there’s the outro, where she eases into a half-sung, half-spoken monologue that undercuts the song’s relative wholesomeness with absurdist specifics. The list of listening options and parking-lot scenarios lands as a small, defiant comedy bit in the song’s final minutes—it’s flirtatious, a little filthy and goofy all at once.
“We can just drive around! Listen to teccccchno! Listen to Emmmmminem! Listen to Sliiiiipknot! Sex in the parking lot, gas station! Maybe you can buy a new shirt there, too!”
There are some clear fingerprints on the record. Petras co-wrote and co-produced “Jeep” with Porches, and her collaborators include her regular producer Nightfeelings and Eric Cross, known for working with Dorian Electra. The video, directed by Leonie Miller-Aichholz, keeps Petras glamorous but mostly grounded—not the CGI amusement-park she’s used before, but something more lived-in. That production roster matters: it maps a route from club pop into more indie-minded terrain without feeling like a calculated crossover.
On an industry level, “Jeep” is interesting because it resists the obvious career move. Petras could have kept leaning into the hyper-sexualized, neon-pop lane and stayed entirely in the streaming playbook that built her audience. Instead she’s stretching into texture and humor, and she’s doing it with collaborators who bring different cultural cred. That signals a kind of confidence you don’t always see when artists step away from major labels: not a retreat but a repositioning.
It doesn’t rewrite her catalog overnight. Fans who came for the club anthems will still get those; this track feels like a deliberate detour—a recalibration. “Jeep” works because the small choices add up: the warped guitar, the purposeful Auto-Tune, the comic outro. Petras isn’t denying her past impulses so much as folding them into a wider palette. That might be the move that keeps her from becoming a one-note pop act and makes the next era worth watching.
Credits: Released on BunHead/Amigo. Directed by Leonie Miller-Aichholz. Co-written and co-produced with Porches; additional production from Nightfeelings and Eric Cross.