Which Artists Sampled Bad Liar And Where Can I Hear Them?

Gotta say, the backstory of 'Bad Liar' is one of those neat little pop-music corners I love digging into. The 2017 single is primarily credited to Selena Gomez, Julia Michaels, Justin Tranter, and producer Ian Kirkpatrick — that quartet crafted the melody, lyrics, and production that made the song stand out. Lyrically it's very specific: it's about the messy, awkward business of trying not to admit you’re falling for someone. The verses come out almost like spoken confession, the chorus is tight and repeated, and Selena’s delivery sells that nervous honesty perfectly. What really colors the creation story is the production detail: the bassline and the groove in 'Bad Liar' echo the iconic bass riff from Talking Heads' 'Psycho Killer.' After listeners and critics pointed out the similarity, Tina Weymouth — the bassist from Talking Heads — was later given a songwriting credit. So while the modern team wrote the song and shaped its contemporary pop-minimalist sound, that 1970s bass flavor ended up being important enough to require proper recognition. Beyond the credits, the inspiration is emotional and pretty universal: hiding feelings you don’t want to confront, trying to play it cool while your body and voice betray you. Julia Michaels has a knack for diaristic, blunt lyricism, and Justin Tranter’s pop instincts help the lines land memorably. Ian Kirkpatrick’s sparse production left space for Selena’s odd, conversational rhythm in the verses, which is why the song feels intimate and slightly off-kilter in a good way. For me, that combination — honest writing, a retro-tinged bassline, and restrained production — is why 'Bad Liar' sticks around in my playlist. It’s the kind of pop song that feels like overhearing someone you like, and I still catch myself singing the chorus under my breath sometimes.

My playlist obsession these past few months has been all acoustic takes on 'Bad Liar' — there’s something about the song’s sly melody that turns magical when you strip it down. I tend to gravitate toward covers that do one of three things: completely re-harmonize the chorus, lean into whispery vocals with a close-mic bedroom feel, or add a tasteful acoustic instrument (cello, nylon-string guitar, or sparse piano) that gives the track new emotional color. A few channels and performers I keep replaying are Boyce Avenue (their mellow, guitar-led vibe makes the lyric feel like a confession), Kurt Hugo Schneider collaborations (clean production with interesting vocal arrangements), Tyler Ward (raw, front-and-center lead vocal with tight backing), Madilyn Bailey (crystal-clear phrasing and pop-sensible reharmonizations), Alex Goot (polished multi-tracked vocals), and Sam Tsui (if you want harmonies and drama). Each takes 'Bad Liar' into a different emotional space — some emphasize the song’s irony, others its aching vulnerability. If I had to point you to the specific types of videos that hit hardest on YouTube, look first for simple live takes filmed in natural light: one mic, one guitar, minimal reverb. Those versions reveal the lyric and let you hear subtle changes in melody that a singer slips in on repeat listens. Next, try duet or harmony-driven versions — they often reframe the narrative into a conversation and can make the suspension in the chorus more satisfying. Finally, piano or cello-backed arrangements tend to slow the song down and expose the heartache beneath the groove. When I build a late-night playlist, I throw in a bedroom piano cover for intimacy, a harmonized studio cover for polish, and a raw street-style acoustic performance to remind me of the song’s grit. Honestly, hunting through comments and related videos on a cover I like usually leads me to underrated versions — there are so many gifted indie performers who turn 'Bad Liar' into something quietly unforgettable, and that’s the joy of YouTube for me.

There’s a cozy little rabbit-hole of places where you can actually hear Roz’s voice from 'The Wild Robot' and I get a kick out of how different each clip feels. If you want the official narrated tone, Audible and Apple Books are the first stops — both usually have a one- to three-minute sample you can stream right on the book’s page. Google Play Books and Kobo offer similar preview clips, and many of those let you jump into a snippet that includes a line or two from Roz, which is perfect for judging whether the narrator’s warmth fits how you imagined her. Libraries are underrated here: OverDrive/Libby and Hoopla often carry the audiobook version, and their apps let you listen to quick samples even if you don’t borrow the title. You’ll also find publisher or author pages sometimes post audio excerpts, and YouTube occasionally hosts publisher-approved clips or book-store event recordings where Roz’s voice appears. For the truly curious, Scribd and Audiobooks.com are other streaming options that provide short previews. I love pausing on a 30-second sample and picturing Roz blinking to life — those tiny moments sell the whole book to me.

Sampling is such a fascinating aspect of music, and 'You're Gone and I Gotta Stay High Remix' is one of those tracks that has really resonated with a lot of artists. I’ve come across many who have decided to take elements from it and weave their own magic. For instance, the remixer, Hozier, has a beautiful spin on the song that amplifies the emotional depth while maintaining that catchy vibe. Then there's also Lil Uzi Vert, who has integrated a bit of the essence into his hits, showcasing how versatile this remix can be across genres. You can even hear echoes of its influence in places like TikTok, where various creators have incorporated segments into their own content, further pushing its reach. There's something about that blend of deep emotion and catchy beats that invites so many reimaginings. It's almost like a warm blanket that artists want to cozy up to and make their own. The community surrounding these samples really brings us together as fans—and isn't that what music is all about?

If you're hunting down the wild robot beaver voice samples online, you're in for a fun scavenger hunt — there are tons of places fans tend to upload or host those clips. First stop should always be official channels: the developer or publisher's website and their official YouTube channel often post trailers, sound test videos, or press kits that include voice clips. If the voice actor has a public reel, it may be on their personal site or on platforms like SoundCloud and Bandcamp where they share raw audio. Press kits and media pages sometimes include downloadable WAV or MP3 files labeled as SFX or voice samples, so check the “media” or “press” sections on the official page. Beyond official sources, community hubs are gold mines. YouTube has countless compilations and timestamps for specific characters — try searches like "wild robot beaver voice lines", "wild robot beaver soundboard", or "wild robot beaver SFX" and look for playlists or clips from streams and trailers. Reddit threads in relevant subreddits often collect high-quality clips and point to the original files or timestamped videos. SoundCloud and Archive.org are great for longer uploads or full soundbanks that users share, while Freesound and similar SFX libraries sometimes host user-contributed versions (check licensing carefully). For stock and licensed versions you can also search sites like Pond5 or Zapsplat, which offer paid or attribution-required downloads. If the voice appears in a game or mod, the Steam Workshop or Nexus Mods pages sometimes include soundpacks or direct links to where the audio can be previewed. Twitch VODs and clip pages are useful too — streamers will often react to or rip lines during playthroughs, and those clips can be easier to search with streamer names plus the character name. A few practical tips from my own digging: use site-specific searches (for example, site:youtube.com "wild robot beaver" voice) to narrow results, and add terms like "soundboard", "voice lines", "clips", or "SFX". If you find a YouTube clip, check the description for direct download links or timestamps pointing to the best moments. When you want the highest fidelity, look for .wav files in press kits or SoundCloud uploads tagged as high-quality — YouTube re-encodes audio so it won’t be as clean. Always respect copyright and licensing: if you plan to use the samples in your own content, read the usage rules, give credit, or reach out to the rights holder. I once stumbled on a tiny developer’s media page that had a zipped soundbank of the beaver’s button presses and vocalizations — impossible to find again without bookmarking it, so I recommend saving links you like. I love how quirky and mechanical the wild robot beaver sounds in every clip I’ve tracked down; there’s a playful, metallic charm to the voice that makes it perfect for memes or remixes. Happy hunting — hope you find the perfect sample to loop into your next project or playlist, because some of these little robotic squeaks are oddly addictive.

I love the way music charts tell a story, and 'Bad Liar' actually has two different chart stories depending on which version you mean. For the version by Selena Gomez, it arrived as a subtly confident pop single that critics adored and fans quickly streamed. It debuted on the Billboard Hot 100 and held its ground in the streaming era — that meant strong numbers on Spotify and Apple Music from day one, plus steady radio adds on pop stations. Internationally it showed up on many national charts across Europe, Oceania, and Latin America, often landing within respectable ranges where streaming-heavy tracks typically live. It didn’t dominate like a runaway summer smash, but it had staying power: playlists, TV syncs, and social media kept it visible and eventually led to certifications in multiple territories. The critical buzz also translated into long-term listens; it didn’t burn out fast, which is a kind of win in today’s fickle market. Meanwhile, the song called 'Bad Liar' by Imagine Dragons (if that’s the one you had in mind) followed a different trajectory. Their take leaned into alt-pop/rock radio and streaming playlists aimed at broader, guitar-forward audiences. That version tended to chart strongly on rock and alternative-specific charts while having more moderate peaks on general pop charts. It gained substantial airplay on contemporary and alternative stations, and it charted across Europe, North America, and Australia where the band already had an established fanbase. The effect was a consistent presence across genre charts and international listings rather than a single explosive peak on mainstream pop charts. Across both cases, the common theme is that 'Bad Liar' in its various incarnations performed respectably around the world without necessarily being a global chart-smash that topped every major listing. Streaming, playlist placement, and radio all played crucial roles in how each version spread — and certifications and year-end tallies later reflected the steady listener interest more than an overnight spike. I find that kind of slow-burn success really satisfying; songs that keep getting discovered over months often become the ones I still hum years later.

If you're hunting for legit copies of 'Bad Liar' sheet music, I've got a few go-to spots I always check first. Musicnotes (powered by Hal Leonard) and Sheet Music Direct are my top two because they usually carry officially licensed piano/vocal/guitar arrangements as well as lead sheets that show melody with chords. Those sites let you preview a few bars, choose transposition options, and download instant PDFs—super handy when you want to play in a different key or print a one-sheet for band practice. Beyond that, Sheet Music Plus and Amazon often have physical songbooks or single-sheet prints, especially if you want a glossy, bound copy. If you care about authenticity, look for publisher credits on the listing (that’s the tell: licensed by Hal Leonard, Sony Music Publishing, etc.). I also peek at the ASCAP/BMI repertory to confirm the publisher if I’m really picky—helps when different versions exist. For guitarists, official chord charts sometimes come as part of a lead sheet; otherwise, licensed tab sites or official artist songbooks are the best bet. Avoid random free tabs unless you don't mind inaccuracies. Personally, I prefer buying from Musicnotes because I can transpose on the fly and the quality is consistent—plus, it feels good to support the songwriters.

I get a kick out of tracking down covers, so here’s what I’ve found about 'Perfect Illusion' and where you can listen to different takes on it. Major-label artists didn’t really roll out official cover versions of 'Perfect Illusion' the way they do for older classics, so most of what exists lives in the indie and creator world. YouTube is the biggest treasure trove—search for "'Perfect Illusion' cover" and you’ll find acoustic singer-songwriters, piano-and-vocal renditions, full-band rock reworks, and lo-fi bedroom versions. Channels run the gamut from solo performers doing stripped-down versions to small bands giving it a harder edge. Spotify and Apple Music host some of these covers too—look under "covers" playlists or individual artist pages; many independent musicians upload acoustic or reinterpretive studio takes there. SoundCloud and Bandcamp are great if you want to support smaller creators directly, and Bandcamp sometimes has unique arrangements or live-recorded versions. If you prefer curated reinterpretations, check out compilation playlists on streaming platforms that collect pop covers—those playlists often include different moods (piano ballad, indie-rock, EDM remix). TikTok and Instagram Reels also have short, creative snippets from emerging singers and producers; sometimes those snippets lead to full uploads on YouTube or Spotify. Personally, I love discovering a raw vocal cover on YouTube and then following the artist to their Spotify to support them, which is where I usually end up replaying my favorites.

Watching the video for 'Bad Liar' felt like stepping into a small, private theater where every tiny gesture answers the lines the singer refuses to admit out loud. The visuals lean heavily into the song's core theme: the tug-of-war between desire and denial. Close-ups on furtive glances and restless hands become a language of their own, suggesting that the real confession is happening in expression rather than syllables. The director seems to choose restraint over melodrama — muted color tones, quiet interiors, and slow camera moves make the internal chaos more potent because it’s contained. What struck me most was how the video translates the unreliable narrator of the lyrics into cinematic devices. Repetition of certain shots — a hallway, a mirror, a cigarette stub — reads like a broken record in the mind of the protagonist: thoughts circling the same admission but never quite landing on it. Mirrors and reflections are used as a visual shorthand for self-questioning; sometimes the reflection feels slightly out of sync, which gives the impression of someone watching themselves fail at hiding a truth. Cutaways to objects (a half-drunk coffee, an untouched phone) work like punctuation marks in the lyric, emphasizing what the protagonist chooses not to say. Beyond the symbolism, the interplay between cast and space is excellent storytelling. Intimacy is shown through tiny invasions of personal space, a lingered touch that’s quickly retracted, or a shot where the camera stays on the other person's face longer than feels comfortable — all of which line up with the song’s lines about trying and failing to be indifferent. There’s also a delicious ambiguity: is the protagonist intentionally lying, or are they lying to themselves? The video leans toward the latter, making denial feel less like villainy and more like heartbreak defense. I also loved how the visual pacing mirrors the song’s dynamic shifts. When the chorus hits, edits become slightly quicker, the light dips and flares, and the tension mounts; during softer moments, the camera gives us space to breathe, which only makes the next conflicted glance hit harder. It’s the kind of music video that rewards repeat viewings because each watch teases out a new micro-expression or symbolic object. Overall, it felt intimate and clever — a visual whisper of the lyrics that left me rewinding the chorus just to catch those quiet details again.