The Undercover Dream Lovers’ Matt Koenig pushes back against life’s unwritten rules on “lies lies lies,” a propulsive indie pop anthem – and highlight off his new album ‘atomic house’ – that turns doubt into drive and captures what it feels like to choose your own path and actually believe in it.

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Stream: “lies lies lies” – The Undercover Dream Lovers

There’s luck involved in anything creative, but you have to believe in it and stay in the game to even have a shot. It’s about refusing to just fall in line and become another cog in the machine.

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A life can start to feel scripted before you even realize you’re following along – a steady march of expectations dressed up as stability, success, or “the right path.”

On “lies lies lies,” The Undercover Dream Lovers’ Matt Koenig pushes back against that conditioning, turning doubt into drive and disillusionment into something loud, bold, and defiantly his own. What begins as a reflection on the narratives we inherit becomes sharper and more urgent: A refusal to accept a version of life that trades curiosity for comfort, and a reminder that believing in your own path – however uncertain, however improbable – might be the most radical choice of all.

I sat in my room, stared at the wall
I wanted to be like Jimi playing guitar
My dad always said there’s too many stars
So stop all the daydreaming and go get a job

I just did what I was told
and now I’m stuck and
broke on the clock
They all had imagination,
funny how they all forgot

Released February 6, “lies lies lies” is a standout single off The Undercover Dream Lovers’ third studio album atomic house, out now via SoundOn. The brainchild of Los Angeles-based musician and producer Matt Koenig, The Undercover Dream Lovers has been actively pushing the bounds of what pop music can look and sound like since 2016. What began as a solo bedroom endeavor has grown into a fully realized sonic world, shaped over nearly a decade of experimentation, instinct, and an unwavering commitment to feeling over formula – a process Koenig describes simply: If he can put the song on and feel a real connection from start to finish, he trusts someone else will too.

“lies lies lies” follows November’s “prom queen,” and finds Koenig confronting the push-and-pull between belief and expectation, channeling it into something immediate, anthemic, and impossible to ignore. Set to a propulsive pulse of bold bass, pumping drums, and radiant, synth-laced melodies, the song doesn’t just wrestle with tension – it explodes through it. Koenig pairs sweet, stacked harmonies with a wash of cool textures and hard-edged synths, building a chorus that feels as cathartic as it is contagious. From the opening lines – “i sat in my room / stared at the wall / i wanted to be like jimmy playing guitar” – he grounds the song in a deeply personal space before widening the lens, taking aim at the systems, unwritten rules, and social dictates that tell us who we’re supposed to be and when we’re supposed to give up.

American dream
I guess I’m the freak
They’re tryna sell me
Lies lies lies
A college degree
A house by the sea
Atomic family
Lies lies lies
Lies lies lies
Lies lies lies

Ultimately, “lies lies lies” is about that breaking point – the moment when belief collides with reality and you’re forced to decide whether to fall in line or push forward anyway.

“At its core, the song is about the people who say things aren’t possible – often because they didn’t stick it out long enough to catch the right break,” Koenig tells Atwood Magazine. “There’s luck involved in anything creative, but you have to believe in it and stay in the game to even have a shot.” That tension fuels every second of the track, turning frustration into momentum and doubt into a force you can move through, not just sit with.

This sense of motion is baked into the way Koenig creates, too. The Undercover Dream Lovers is, at its heart, a solo project – “I write, record, produce, mix, and sometimes master everything myself,” he shares – built piece by piece in his home studio over the better part of a decade. It’s a process rooted less in perfection and more in feeling: “If I can put the song on, go for a drive or a walk, and really feel something from start to finish, then I trust someone else might feel it too.” You can hear that instinctive approach in “lies lies lies” – a song that feels less engineered than discovered, its energy unfolding naturally from the conviction behind it.

This sentiment is deeply earned: Though the song leans into defiance, Koenig’s perspective is more layered than a simple rejection of the path laid out for him. “Contrary to the lyrics, my dad was pretty supportive of me making music, but he was realistic – he didn’t treat it like a guarantee,” he explains. “There’s always that question of whether something will actually work.” What emerges, then, is much more nuanced: A balance between gratitude and grit, between recognizing how unlikely this life is and choosing it anyway.

Koenig’s perspective lands because he’s lived the alternative. Before fully committing to music, he spent years moving through different versions of adulthood – assembling ice machines in Pittsburgh during the week and playing shows on the weekends, later waiting tables, trying real estate, and working in menswear in New York. There was even a point where he stepped away from music entirely. That history gives “lies lies lies” its weight: It’s not fantasy, but a hard-won belief in possibility. As he puts it, the song feels like “both gratitude and defiance – recognizing how hard that path is, while also acknowledging that it’s possible if you commit to it.”

Put in my two weeks, picked up my guitar
I spent 25 playing to no one at bars
The truth of it is there’s too many stars
Doesn’t matter ’cause
I’m happy when I’m singing my song

They all had imagination,
funny how they all forgot

American dream
I guess I’m the freak
They’re tryna sell me
Lies lies lies
A college degree
A house by the sea
Atomic family
Lies lies lies

That duality runs through the song’s origin and construction. Written with collaborator Zhone, “lies lies lies” began with its central hook and grew outward from there, shaped through conversation, experimentation, and intention. “We talked through what it meant to both of us and debated how far to push certain lyrics,” Koenig says, even weighing whether the chorus should evolve or lock into a repeated and anthemic frame. The result lands squarely in that sweet spot – immediate, memorable, and built to be shouted back.

But “lies lies lies” isn’t just a standalone statement – it’s a key piece of the world Koenig builds across atomic house.

Across fourteen tracks, he explores what he describes as a kind of “nuclear household,” moving through different perspectives, archetypes, and longings while drawing on tactile memories of growing up in the ‘90s. “There’s this fascination right now with ‘90s culture and earlier eras, especially in contrast to how hyper-digital everything feels today,” he says. “I was very immersed in that time when I was younger, and this song taps into that perspective.”

“Whether it’s dial up phones or the feeling of pushing a doorbell when you’re running around the neighborhood and playing ding-dong ditch, there are so many tactile things that just get us excited. That was my anchor for this whole record, remembering those feelings and stepping back into my own experience or into the shoes of a character who may have had these experiences.”

What makes atomic house resonate isn’t nostalgia for nostalgia’s sake, but the way those memories are reimagined in the present – revisited, reshaped, and made to matter now. “You can forget that your life is flexible,” Koenig reflects. “You can get stuck in a rhythm and think that’s just who you are. But the truth is, you can wake up any day and reorient the direction of your life.” That idea sits at the heart of “lies lies lies,” but it extends far beyond it – threading through the entire record as both question and answer, and arriving at a moment when more and more people are starting to question the paths they’ve been told to follow.

In that sense, “lies lies lies” feels less like a rejection than a reawakening – a song that doesn’t just call out the myths we’re sold, but reminds us what’s still possible once we stop believing them.

And as atomic house unfolds, Koenig turns that realization into something bigger: A world built from memory, motion, and meaning, where the past doesn’t trap you – it opens the door to becoming something new.

Matt Koenig recently sat down with Atwood Magazine to discuss the stories, struggles, and self-belief behind “lies lies lies” – and what it means to stop following the script and start writing your own. Read our interview below, and step inside the lived-in world of The Undercover Dreams Lovers’ atomic house – you might just find a piece of your own story tucked into its touchstones, waiting in the walls.

Is this really what it’s like
To believe each perfect lie
To be deceived and wonder why
We all bought into
Lies lies lies

We all bought into
Lies lies lies
Lies lies lies

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‘atomic house’ – The Undercover Dream Lovers

A CONVERSATION WITH THE UNDERCOVER DREAM LOVERS

The Undercover Dream Lovers (Matt Koenig): The Undercover Dream Lovers is really just me in my home studio. I write, record, produce, mix, and sometimes master everything myself. Over the better part of a decade, I’ve taught myself how to do it all because I genuinely love the process. When we tour, I bring friends to play live, but the core of the project – the basslines, lyrics, arrangements – is mostly me building songs piece by piece.

I lean on friends for feedback and creative conversations, but ultimately it’s me experimenting in the studio, chasing a feeling. My standard is simple: if I can put the song on, go for a drive or a walk, and really feel something from start to finish, then I trust someone else might feel it too.

The Undercover Dream Lovers: Artists like Tame Impala, Unknown Mortal Orchestra, early Portugal. The Man, Dr. Dog, The Beatles, Nirvana, Phoenix, Animal Collective, MGMT, Toro y Moi – that whole indie lineage has shaped me. Bands like Parcels and L’Impératrice have also influenced how I think about live shows and groove. There’s a mix of classic songwriting and psychedelic, left-of-center production that’s always pulled me in.

What excites me now is that I feel less confined by genre. I’m pulling from those influences but filtering them through my own instincts

The Undercover Dream Lovers: “Lies Lies Lies” started with the hook. I wrote it with my friend Zhone, and once we had that phrase, we reverse engineered the rest of the song around it. We talked through what it meant to both of us and debated how far to push certain lyrics. There was also a structural question – whether to make the chorus wordy and evolving each time or bring it back to something repeated and anthemic. We referenced bands like MGMT when thinking about that balance.

At its core, the song is about the people who say things aren’t possible – often because they didn’t stick it out long enough to catch the right break. There’s luck involved in anything creative, but you have to believe in it and stay in the game to even have a shot. It’s about refusing to just fall in line and become another cog in the machine.

The Undercover Dream Lovers: Contrary to the lyrics, my dad was pretty supportive of me making music, but he was realistic – he didn’t treat it like a guarantee. That stuck with me. There’s always that question of whether something will actually work. I remember being in the car once and him saying who knows maybe you’ll be the next Michael Jackson but it was a big who knows

I’ve been lucky enough to build a life around my art. Maybe I’m not at the absolute top of the mountain, but I’ve gotten to live in a way a lot of people dream about. So the song feels like both gratitude and defiance – recognizing how hard that path is, while also acknowledging that it’s possible if you commit to it.

The Undercover Dream Lovers: A big part of the vision was reconnecting with that early spark – the kid who loved Jimi Hendrix and Jimmy Page and just wanted to play guitar. Before music became my full-time world, I worked a lot of hands-on jobs. I spent years assembling ice machines in Pittsburgh during the week and playing shows on the weekends. Later in New York, I waited tables, tried real estate, worked in menswear – I was searching, trying different versions of adulthood.

There was a point where I felt discouraged about music and stepped away from it seriously. But I eventually came back to it, not even chasing fame, just wanting to do something I genuinely loved.

So the vision behind the track is about possibility. You can forget that your life is flexible. You can get stuck in a rhythm and think that’s just who you are. But the truth is, you can wake up any day and reorient the direction of your life. There will always be resistance, but you can fight for what you want.

The Undercover Dream Lovers: It fits naturally into the larger world of the record. atomic house explores different perspectives inside a kind of nuclear household – different archetypes, different characters, different longings. There’s this fascination right now with ‘90s culture and earlier eras, especially in contrast to how hyper-digital everything feels today. I was very immersed in that time when I was younger, and this song taps into that perspective.

At the same time, it’s not meant to feel angry or accusatory. Even though it’s anthemic, it’s more about awareness than frustration. The idea isn’t to blame anyone for “buying into” something – it’s recognizing that we all have agency. We all choose what to believe, what path to take, whether we follow expectations or step outside them. Even if the leap only leads you to playing a bar show for a few people, it’s still your choice.

The Undercover Dream Lovers: I hope people walk away feeling reflective but empowered. The song is about recognizing that you have more control over your life than you think. You can change direction. You can reject the script that’s handed to you. That realization alone can shift everything.

For me, creating it reinforced that belief. I’ve lived through moments of doubt and discouragement, but I’ve also seen what happens when you commit to something you love. Making this record reminded me that possibility is always there.

The Undercover Dream Lovers: I don’t actually spend a ton of time actively searching for new music – it’s such a noisy, overstimulated world. A lot of what I hear comes from friends putting things on: Dijon, Mk.gee, older Mac DeMarco, jazz records, classics. I’ve been into the new Geese record recently.

Honestly, I also listen to a lot of classical music or even just silence. When you’re constantly making music and surrounded by it, sometimes the most inspiring thing is space. I tend to let music find me rather than constantly going out to look for it.

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Stream: “lies lies lies” – The Undercover Dream Lovers

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