Twenty One Pilots has always been a weird band to explain to your parents. You’ve got a guy playing ukelele one second and then screaming about existential dread over a reggae-infused drum beat the next. But then came Trench. Specifically, then came Levitate. It’s a two-minute whirlwind. No chorus. No bridge. Just a relentless, breathless delivery from Tyler Joseph that serves as the ultimate litmus test for whether you’re actually paying attention to the Lore—with a capital L—of the band's sprawling cinematic universe.
Honestly, if you look at the tracklist for the 2018 album Trench, Levitate Twenty One Pilots feels like a frantic transition. It’s the third track, bleeding directly out of "Jumpsuit" with a seamlessness that makes you wonder if your Spotify glitched. It doesn't give you a second to breathe. That’s intentional. It’s a sonic panic attack that somehow manages to be one of the most technically impressive rap performances in the duo's entire discography.
The Brutal Technicality of the Track
Let’s talk about the beat. Paul Meany, the frontman of Mutemath and a frequent collaborator with the band, had a massive hand in the production of Trench. You can hear his fingerprints all over the grit and the grime of the percussion here. It’s dirty. It’s lo-fi but high-energy. The song samples the ending of "Jumpsuit," looping that distorted bass and layering a breakbeat over it that feels like it belongs in a 90s underground rave.
Tyler starts rapping almost immediately.
He’s not just talking; he’s weaving. If you’ve ever tried to do this at karaoke, you know you’ll pass out by the sixty-second mark. There are no hooks to hide behind. Most pop songs are built on the "Verse-Chorus-Verse-Chorus" structure because humans crave repetition. It’s safe. Levitate Twenty One Pilots rejects that safety. It’s a straight shot of lyrical adrenaline. He covers themes of ego, the transition from being a "star" to being a "servant," and the overwhelming weight of success.
"Oh, I know how to levitate up off my feet / And ever since the seventh grade I learned to fire-breathe."
That opening line isn't just a flex. It’s a reference to the long-standing history of Tyler’s songwriting. He’s been doing this since he was a kid in Columbus, Ohio. But "levitating" in the context of the story—the world of Dema—isn't necessarily a good thing. It’s about being plucked out of your reality. It’s about the danger of losing your footing.
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Deciphering the Dema Lore
To understand why this song matters, you have to understand Dema. If you aren't a "Skeleton Clique" member, this probably sounds like gibberish. Basically, Tyler created a fictional city called Dema, ruled by nine bishops who represent different facets of depression and anxiety. The protagonist, Clancy, is trying to escape.
In the music video for Levitate Twenty One Pilots, we see the Banditos—a group of rebels wearing yellow—hanging out around a campfire. It feels like a moment of peace. Then, out of nowhere, one of the bishops drags Tyler away by the neck into the darkness.
It’s jarring.
It tells us that even when you think you’ve escaped your demons, they’re still lurking just outside the light of the fire. The song's placement in the trilogy of videos (starting with "Jumpsuit" and ending with "Nico and the Niners") is crucial. It’s the moment of capture. It’s the realization that the "levitation" he’s talking about might actually be the bishops lifting him up to take him back to his cage.
Some fans argue that the line "Smack a pencil out of my hand, sleep on the floor and put the boarder back to 'blame'" refers to the internal struggle of the creative process. When you’re an artist at that level, everyone has an opinion on what you should do next. Tyler is essentially saying he’d rather go back to the basics—the struggle—than deal with the polished, fake expectations of the industry.
Why the "No Chorus" Risk Paid Off
Radio stations hated this song. Well, maybe "hated" is a strong word, but they definitely didn't know what to do with it. It’s too short for a standard slot and lacks the catchy earworm melody of "Stressed Out" or "Ride." Yet, it’s a fan favorite.
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Why? Because it’s authentic.
In an era where every song feels like it was written by a committee to trigger a TikTok trend, Levitate Twenty One Pilots feels like a private journal entry set to a drum machine. It’s fast. It’s messy. It’s a flex of skill that reminds people Tyler Joseph is a legitimately talented rapper, regardless of his "alt-rock" label.
The rhyme schemes are dense. He uses internal rhyme like a seasoned battle rapper.
- "Wait, as they come for me, I can feel the spirits I should fear"
- "Chorus, verse, chorus, verse, now here comes the eight-bar bridge" (which he says right as he doesn't do an eight-bar bridge).
That meta-commentary is peak Twenty One Pilots. He’s mocking the very structure of the song he’s currently performing. He knows the rules. He just chooses to break them because following them wouldn't accurately represent the chaotic state of mind he's trying to convey.
The Production Nuance
Josh Dun’s drumming on this track is often overlooked because it sounds so electronic, but the pocket he plays in is incredibly tight. It’s what gives the song its forward momentum. If the drums lagged for even a millisecond, the whole thing would fall apart like a house of cards.
The layering of the vocals is another detail people miss. There are subtle harmonies and vocal doubles that pop in and out, creating a sense of claustrophobia. It’s meant to make you feel a bit uneasy. You’re supposed to feel the walls closing in as the track progresses toward its abrupt ending.
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When it stops, it just stops.
There’s no fade-out. No resolution. It just cuts to silence (or the beginning of "Morph" if you're listening to the album). This mirrors the ending of the music video where he’s suddenly snatched away. The experience is over before you’ve had a chance to process it.
Applying the Energy of Levitate
If you’re a creator, there’s actually a lot to learn from the way Levitate Twenty One Pilots was handled. It wasn't designed to be a "hit" in the traditional sense, but it became a cornerstone of the Trench era because it stayed true to the narrative.
- Don't be afraid to break structure. If your story or your project doesn't fit into a standard 1, 2, 3 format, don't force it. The tension created by the "missing" chorus is what makes the song memorable.
- Technical skill earns respect. You can have all the marketing in the world, but if you can't deliver the "bars" (or the quality work), people will see through it. Tyler’s flow here bought him a lot of credibility with critics who dismissed them as a "teen band."
- Lore builds community. By weaving the song into a larger story, they didn't just release a track; they released a puzzle piece. This keeps the audience engaged long after the initial listen.
To truly appreciate the song today, you should listen to it with high-quality headphones. Notice the way the bass interacts with the vocals. Watch the "Levitate" music video immediately after "Jumpsuit." Look for the transitions. Notice the yellow tape.
Understand that for this band, the music is never just about the melody. It’s about the escape. And sometimes, "levitating" is the only way to get a clear view of the city you're trying to leave behind.
To get the most out of the experience, try these specific steps:
- Listen to the "Trench" trilogy in order: Play "Jumpsuit," "Levitate," and "Nico and the Niners" back-to-back without pauses. The narrative flow is entirely different when viewed as a short film.
- Read the Clancy Letters: Visit the archived "dmaorg.info" site to read the lore documents that were being updated in real-time when these songs dropped. It adds a layer of depth to the lyrics that isn't apparent on the surface.
- Focus on the Lyrics without Audio: Read the lyrics to "Levitate" as a poem. It reveals a much darker, more introspective look at the pressures of fame than the high-energy beat suggests.
The song isn't just a track on an album. It's a declaration of independence from the standard pop formula. It’s an invitation to look deeper, run faster, and—if you can manage it—learn how to fire-breathe.