Ron Brunk Fights Death With Humor, Cats, and a Magic Piano on “Not Dead Yet”

Ron Brunk pulls up with the kind of energy that basically says, yeah, life keeps swinging at me, but it keeps missing. 

His new single “Not Dead Yet” is exactly that, an unbothered, chaotic anthem that treats mortality like a cosmic prank and survival like a running joke he refuses to stop telling. At this point in his career, with album number thirty-eight on the horizon, Brunk isn’t slowing down or “maturing” into something bland. If anything, he’s leaning harder into the weirdness, doubling down on his off-kilter humor, and letting his lifelong brushes with hell shape the most unfiltered version of himself we’ve seen yet.

“Not Dead Yet” hits like a life crisis you can dance to. Swinging pianos, shuffling snares, vocals lightly dipped in distortion, Brunk makes existential dread sound like a party trick. He’s singing about death like he’s talking about chores, tossing out lines with the exhausted confidence of someone who genuinely knows he “could go at any minute,” yet still chooses to crack a joke about it.

Andi Jane slips in with backing vocals that feel like a wink from the universe, soft enough to soften the blow, sharp enough to keep pace with Brunk’s gruff, megaphone-coded delivery. The whole track spirals upward into a siren-like wail so dramatic it loops back around into catharsis. That’s the Brunk formula: take the heavy, twist it until it’s ridiculous, and land somewhere surprisingly moving.

The music video doubles down on the absurdity. Brunk’s back is turned for the first twenty seconds like the audience is lucky to even witness the moment. What follows is chaotic theatre, his “magic piano,” his usual collection of sunglasses, a real megaphone (because of course), sudden fade-to-blacks that imply the angels are clocking in early, and then Brunk snapping back to life like nothing ever happened. And then there are the cats. His newly adopted feral crew is fully part of the show, perched on the piano, singing along like a tiny choir of gremlin backup dancers. It’s adorable, unhinged, and exactly the kind of outlandish sincerity that makes Brunk Brunk.

“Not Dead Yet” feels like his loudest heartbeat, a reckless, joyful reminder that being alive is messy, stupid, funny, and weirdly precious. Brunk turns resilience into a punchline and a victory lap all at once. If this is the energy leading into album thirty-eight, buckle in. Ron Brunk isn’t just not dead yet, he’s very much alive, thriving, and refusing to leave quietly.