Reece Caldwell's guitar work carries the ghost of Sonic Youth's more unhinged moments, all jagged angles and unexpected harmonies, while his vocals alternate between post-punk detachment and something more visceral. Tyler Farrell's drumming channels the angular precision of Steve Albini's Big Black, though filtered through a lens of controlled abandon. Jacob Marsh's bass anchors proceedings without ever quite settling into comfort.
The production philosophy borders on the confrontational. Within single tracks, the band lurches from crystalline hi-fi passages to what sounds like field recordings made on obsolete equipment. It shouldn't work—conventional wisdom would have you polish everything to a uniform sheen or commit fully to lo-fi aesthetic. Yet the Anchorage outfit have stumbled onto something genuinely disorienting: the aural equivalent of walking through a gallery where each painting employs a different technique, challenging your ear to constantly recalibrate.
Influences from Slint's mathematical post-rock, the grinding intensity of Swans, and the hermetic strangeness of contemporary acts like Black Midi coalesce into something that feels authentically unsettled. The specter of grunge haunts the proceedings—Alice in Chains' sludge, Nirvana's rawness—but refracted through a decidedly more experimental prism. Even the declared affection for barbershop harmonies and vintage jazz bleeds through in unexpected moments of melodic richness amid the chaos.
When asked to describe the album's thematic content, Caldwell offered only "Burn in hell"—a sentiment that feels less like provocation and more like a statement of purpose. This is music made by people who've grown tired of the machinery surrounding art-making, who've decided that the only honest response to modern musical convention is a kind of gleeful sabotage.
The local Anchorage radio stations have picked up on what's happening here, and they're right to pay attention. Viewing Room by [SAMPLE_TEXT] won't be for everyone—it's too deliberately abrasive, too committed to its own internal logic. But for those attuned to the weirder frequencies of contemporary rock music, this album offers something increasingly rare: genuine unpredictability.