PISS - you made me / skin on linen (2026)
With you made me / skin on linen, Vancouver quartet PISS deliver a remarkable debut that stretches the boundaries of punk rock into something closer to experimental theatre, documentary collage and psychological confrontation. Rather than presenting a conventional collection of songs, the band construct a thirty-minute journey through childhood, memory, gendered violence and the difficult process of reclaiming control over one's own narrative.
What makes the album particularly impressive is the extraordinary coherence between its subject matter and its musical language. The abrasive guitars, fragmented structures, spoken testimonies and volatile vocal performances aren't simply unconventional stylistic decisions. They become essential elements of the record's emotional architecture.
I find this approach particularly compelling because the music doesn't attempt to make its difficult subjects accessible through conventional melodies or reassuring arrangements. Instead, PISS create an uncomfortable environment in which vulnerability, rage, confusion and resistance coexist. The result is frequently disturbing, but also unusually distinctive and emotionally powerful.
The opening "kai and friends" establishes this relationship immediately through recordings of children describing their aspirations. It's a deceptively simple introduction, but one that gives the album an essential emotional reference point.
I particularly appreciate the contrast between these innocent voices and the violence that emerges throughout the subsequent compositions. The recordings communicate something that aggressive instrumentation alone couldn't achieve: a sense of vulnerability before the intrusion of the adult world.
"i wanted to be a singer" transforms that vulnerability into an explosion of noise-rock aggression. The guitars become abrasive, the rhythms unstable and Taylor Zantingh's vocals almost physically confrontational.
What I particularly appreciate is the emotional ambiguity. The title suggests aspiration and creative freedom, yet the performance seems to challenge the possibility of expressing those desires without interference or judgment.
Zantingh's delivery is exceptional in its refusal to remain within a single emotional register. The movement between vulnerable expression and explosive screaming gives the song a genuinely unsettling character.
It's not conventionally melodic, but the instrumental aggression and theatrical performance create an extraordinarily effective musical statement.
The short "andrea I" introduces another fragment of testimony, reinforcing the album's documentary structure. I appreciate the way these passages interrupt the conventional expectations of a rock album.
Rather than functioning as disposable interludes, they become part of a broader narrative, allowing different voices and perspectives to enter the work. Their brevity is appropriate because they communicate their purpose without requiring elaborate musical arrangements.
"time loop at hot slit" is one of the record's most effective shorter compositions. Its concentrated aggression and unstable rhythmic character create a convincing sense of psychological pressure.
I particularly appreciate the way the music avoids predictable punk-rock structures. The guitars and percussion seem to resist settling into a comfortable pattern, creating a restless atmosphere that reinforces the song's emotional tension.
The composition is brief, but the intensity and unusual arrangement give it a memorable personality.
"manon on the trial of gisèle pelicot" introduces another important dimension through material associated with philosopher Manon Garcia and public discussion surrounding the Pelicot case.
I appreciate this decision enormously. The album doesn't limit itself to the expression of personal suffering, but connects individual experiences with broader questions of responsibility, consent and social attitudes.
What distinguishes the use of documentary material is its integration into the album's emotional structure. The spoken passages aren't merely illustrations of the band's political perspective; they become part of the artistic language.
"a little girl's horse craze betrays her" continues the unsettling contrast between childhood imagery and adult interpretations of vulnerability.
I appreciate how the album constructs emotional associations through fragmented titles, voices and musical interventions rather than relying on a conventional linear narrative.
There is considerable sophistication in this approach. The listener is required to participate in constructing meaning, making connections between apparently disconnected elements.
"toni" introduces another brief literary reference, contributing to the record's broader intellectual framework. These fragments are especially interesting because they expand the album beyond the personal experiences of its performers.
PISS demonstrate that punk can engage with literature, philosophy and documentary testimony without abandoning its confrontational musical identity.
"there was a door" returns to a fuller musical arrangement, allowing the band's noise-rock instrumentation to occupy a more prominent position.
I particularly appreciate the relationship between the guitars and Zantingh's volatile delivery. The performance moves beyond conventional aggression, creating an atmosphere in which the instruments and voice seem to compete for control.
The result is deliberately unstable, but that instability becomes one of the song's strengths. Rather than simply repeating a powerful riff, the composition sustains psychological tension through the interaction between its different elements.
"how can you act opposite to this emotion?" is another fascinating moment, particularly because of its exploration of performance and emotional authenticity.
The question at the centre of the title resonates throughout the album. How does someone represent an experience they cannot comfortably articulate? What happens when the emotional response expected by others contradicts what someone actually feels?
I appreciate the way PISS allow these questions to remain unresolved. The music doesn't provide a reassuring explanation, but creates a space where contradictory feelings can coexist.
"blocking a scene you can't remember" is my favourite track on the album, and the composition that most convincingly demonstrates the group's extraordinary potential.
At nearly five minutes, it allows the relationship between narrative, psychological tension and instrumental development to unfold more substantially.
What I particularly appreciate is the way the composition uses its extended structure to establish a convincing emotional progression. The increasingly frantic arrangement doesn't merely communicate aggression; it seems to reflect the instability of memory and the difficulty of reconstructing traumatic experiences.
Zantingh's vocal performance is especially powerful, moving between different forms of expression without settling into a predictable pattern.
The instrumental arrangement reinforces this tension. Rather than concentrating exclusively on rhythmic impact, the music develops an oppressive atmosphere that becomes increasingly difficult to escape.
I find this relationship between form and subject particularly effective. The composition doesn't simply describe psychological distress; it attempts to make the listener experience some of its instability through the music itself.
It's a genuinely compelling piece, and one whose emotional impact extends well beyond the conventions of noise rock.
"self-blame with thorn necklace and hummingbird" returns to the album's more fragmented structure.
The symbolic imagery is striking, combining vulnerability, beauty and pain within a single title. I appreciate the way these shorter pieces introduce emotional perspectives that would be difficult to express through conventional songwriting.
Although they don't always function as independent musical compositions, their contribution to the album's overall atmosphere is significant.
"vikki" provides another brief transition, continuing the sequence of documentary and theatrical fragments.
By this point, the album's unusual architecture has become one of its greatest strengths. The constant movement between different forms of expression creates a sense of instability, but also reinforces the broader conceptual coherence.
"Rote Zora. 'Resistance is Possible.' Emma, no. 6, June 1984, pp. 39–41" introduces archival material associated with the German feminist group Rote Zora.
It's an unusually ambitious reference for a punk album, connecting the intimate experiences explored throughout the record with a broader history of political resistance.
I particularly appreciate the way this material changes the scale of the discussion. The album's themes are no longer limited to individual memory or personal testimony, but become part of a wider examination of collective agency.
The documentary approach also prevents the music from becoming a straightforward expression of anger. Different perspectives and historical references complicate the emotional narrative, giving the work considerable intellectual depth.
The closing "i keep trying to change the ending" is another extraordinary composition.
At more than six minutes, it's the album's longest track and provides an appropriate conclusion to its disturbing journey.
I particularly appreciate the relationship between the quieter passages and the more forceful instrumental sections. After so much confrontation, the moments of restraint become especially meaningful.
The composition doesn't attempt to resolve the album's central conflicts through a conventional triumphant climax. Instead, the changing dynamics suggest a more complicated relationship with memory, agency and the possibility of transformation.
The title itself is particularly moving. It evokes the desire to revise an experience whose consequences remain present, even when the original events cannot be changed.
What makes the ending so effective is the refusal to simplify that contradiction. The music retains its vulnerability without abandoning its confrontational identity.
My main reservation concerns the demanding and fragmented listening experience. Fifteen tracks across approximately thirty minutes create an unusual structure, with several pieces functioning as documentary fragments rather than fully developed songs.
At times, I would appreciate more substantial instrumental arrangements and fewer interruptions. The constant transitions can make the record difficult to approach as a conventional musical work.
However, I increasingly find that this fragmentation is fundamental to its identity. The abrupt changes, incomplete gestures and contrasting voices reinforce the psychological uncertainty underlying the album.
The vocal performances are another challenging element. Zantingh's screaming can become exhausting, and the most abrasive passages offer little conventional melodic accessibility.
Nevertheless, the expressive range is remarkable. The movement between vulnerability, confrontation and theatrical exaggeration creates a form of emotional complexity that a more restrained performance might not communicate as effectively.
The instrumental arrangements are similarly uncompromising. The guitars frequently favour noise and tension over memorable riffs, while the percussion introduces irregularity rather than a comfortable rhythmic foundation.
I occasionally miss stronger melodies, but I also appreciate how deliberately the band reject the usual mechanisms of musical pleasure. The arrangements are designed to unsettle rather than reassure, and that choice is entirely consistent with the album's artistic intentions.
What elevates you made me / skin on linen is the exceptional integration of its different expressive elements.
The documentary recordings, literary references, historical material, theatrical vocals and abrasive instrumentation all contribute to a remarkably unified experience.
Many experimental albums introduce unusual sounds or unconventional structures without establishing a convincing reason for their presence. PISS achieve something considerably more interesting: the formal experimentation becomes inseparable from the emotional and conceptual content.
The record also demonstrates a rare ability to combine personal intensity with intellectual ambition. The references to feminist thought and political history don't feel like superficial gestures added to conventional punk songs. They are central to the work's construction.
I particularly appreciate this refusal to separate musical expression from broader cultural questions. The album demands attention and encourages interpretation without offering easy conclusions.
There is also considerable courage in the lack of compromise. The band don't soften their abrasive sound, simplify the documentary material or introduce reassuring melodic choruses merely to make the album more accessible.
That approach inevitably limits its immediate appeal, but it also gives the record an unusually strong personality.
The shorter compositions remain somewhat uneven, and not every spoken fragment has the same musical impact. Nevertheless, they contribute to an overall structure that becomes more convincing when experienced as a complete work.
The strongest compositions demonstrate the extraordinary potential of this approach. "blocking a scene you can't remember" combines psychological tension and musical development particularly effectively, while "i keep trying to change the ending" provides a moving and structurally ambitious conclusion.
"i wanted to be a singer" and "time loop at hot slit" offer equally convincing examples of how concentrated aggression can communicate emotional complexity without relying on conventional melodies.
Ultimately, you made me / skin on linen is an excellent experimental punk album, distinguished by its extraordinary conceptual coherence, unsettling atmosphere and exceptional expressive intensity.
It's not an easy record, and I wouldn't necessarily describe it as consistently enjoyable. The music can be abrasive, the structures fragmented and the vocal performances overwhelming.
However, these limitations are outweighed by the originality of the artistic vision and the remarkable relationship between musical form and emotional content.
I particularly appreciate "blocking a scene you can't remember", "i keep trying to change the ending", "i wanted to be a singer" and "time loop at hot slit", where the band's combination of vulnerability, confrontation and experimentation feels most effective.
PISS have created something much more substantial than a conventional noise-punk debut. It's a challenging, intellectually ambitious and frequently moving work that uses the possibilities of experimental music to explore subjects rarely addressed with such formal conviction.
75/100
Playing time: 00:30:22
❤️ Favourite track: "blocking a scene you can't remember"
+ Exceptional conceptual coherence, integrating documentary testimony, feminist thought and experimental punk into a remarkably distinctive artistic statement
+ Powerful emotional intensity and extraordinary contrasts between vulnerability, abrasive instrumentation and theatrical vocal performances
+ Several genuinely compelling compositions, particularly "blocking a scene you can't remember" and "i keep trying to change the ending", with substantial psychological and musical development
– Fragmented structure and numerous short interludes occasionally interrupt the musical progression
– Limited conventional melody and relatively few memorable instrumental hooks
– Extremely abrasive vocal performances and demanding arrangements that make repeated listening challenging
Genre: Experimental Punk
Country: Canada
Final Verdict: 75% (Very Good Album)
Yearly Ranking: 18th / 803
Highlight: blocking a scene you can't remember
Made me think of:
Gilla Band
Lingua Ignota
Daughters
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