FEATURE:
Spotlight
albums of this year is from Canadian band, PISS. I am writing this ahead of the release of their debut, you made me / skin <iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/VOS3pnxlG_s?si=2kA31QQZmsCFw5MK" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" referrerpolicy="strict-origin-when-cross-origin" allowfullscreen></iframe>on linen. Even if I am not a fan of their name and the use of all uppercase for their name and all lower case for songs, it is something a lot of artists do. I actually don’t mind that they are called. I just get funny when an artist uses all caps or lowercase. Anyway, there will be review of this album shared soon. I will end with a recent NME interview with this remarkable band. Let’s start with some background on PISS from their label, Sub Pop Records:
“PISS is a noisy, genre-bending four-piece band from Vancouver, B.C. Combining punk, poetry, sound collage, performance art, and visual art, the band creates a multidisciplinary body of work that blurs the line between personal and political.
Powered by thoughtful musicianship, energetic live performances, and a crystal-clear artistic mission, PISS writes punk music that aims to transcend the limitations of a well-established genre. Their work draws inspiration from a range of unexpected influences: literary giants, philosophers, filmmakers, painters, psychoanalysts, activists, children, members of a German anarcho-feminist militant group, and conversations with audience members. These voices represent varying ideological beliefs about gender-based violence and enable PISS to create art that depicts challenging and controversial issues such as sexual violence and enculturated gender norms without reduction, romanticization, polemics, or dogmatism.
Their debut LP, you made me / skin on linen, depicts a childhood shaped by structural, systemic, and intimate violence. Throughout the record, art-making motifs serve as metaphors for the myriad ways we carry the effects of this violence: each experience leaves an impression, gradually creating or deforming the self, much like a piece of clay molded by every mark it receives. The record resists simple conclusions; rather than offering a single perspective, it examines violence as a ubiquitous facet of our culture. It asks questions—how does violence impact our development? Are our wounds inextricable parts of us? And if not, then where do our wounds end and we begin?—and allows the listener to devise their own answers.
The album’s first singles introduce listeners to different corners of that world, each exploring a different facet of the narrative that unfolds across the full record. “time loop at hot slit” is a frenetic noise-punk examination of girlhood in a culture of sexualization, pairing a danceable chorus with witty, poetic lyrics “wailed in anguish and uncanny eroticism”. “blocking a scene you can’t remember” slows everything to a near standstill as the album’s slowcore song, unfolding as a fragmented rehearsal for a confrontation that is repeatedly interrupted by trauma. “Rote Zora. “Resistance is Possible.” Emma, no. 6. June, 1984, pp. 39-41.” transforms a transcript from an archival interview with the German feminist militant group Rote Zora into lyrics for a cacophonous exploration of resistance, agency, and collective action. Finally, the sludgy noise-rock single “i wanted to be a singer” strips away metaphor, foregoing literary devices and narrative techniques, to open the record with a direct address that asks listeners to approach the album not as entertainment, but as lived experience.
While you made me / skin on linen exists as a recorded work, PISS was meant to be experienced live. Every performance presents the album’s narrative, preserving its emotional arc from beginning to end, while allowing the work to exist as an evolving experience. With each show, the band aims to transform venues into spaces where confrontation, catharsis, reflection, and mutual care can coexist.
PISS made their live debut at Vancouver’s DIY venue Red Gate in April 2024 with little expectation beyond performing locally. Instead, the 30-minute performance left the audience transfixed by a set that moved through crushing noise, intimate subtleties, spoken-word samples, and moments of overwhelming emotional release. Taylor Zantingh’s visceral physicality challenges onlookers to move beyond passive media consumption. On the record, she describes how violence from her past affects her present; in a live show, audiences become active participants, witnessing her depict the enduring impacts of trauma in real time. The band’s first show sparked word-of-mouth momentum that has since spread from Vancouver’s local underground scene to audiences, journalists, and musicians around the world. In just two years, PISS has sold out headline shows across eight countries, appeared at leading festivals throughout North America and Europe, and signed to Sub Pop Records—all before a formal release.
PISS is Taylor Zantingh (vocals), Tyler Paterson (guitar), Gavin Moya (bass), and Garreth Roberts (drums). The band recorded their debut album, you made me / skin on linen, in January 2025 with Colin Stewart at Hive Creative Labs. The album is forthcoming on October 30, 2026 via Paper Bag Records (Canada) and Sub Pop Records (worldwide)”.
PHOTO CREDIT: Grace Grignon
Prior to getting to a few interviews, Still Listening Magazine shone a light on their single, blocking a scene you can’t remember. One of the most potent and moving songs of the year. If you are unsure or hesitant about following the band, I can understand that it may be challenging listening at times. But that is the point. This is music that absolutely must be heard:
“Vancouver band PISS have shared ‘blocking a scene you can’t remember’, the latest single from their debut album, you made me / skin on linen. The record arrives on 30 October through Sub Pop, with Paper Bag Records handling its Canadian release.
The new song deals with sexual abuse and its lasting effects. Its lyrics take the form of a girl rehearsing a confrontation with a man from her past, alone in her room. Frontperson Taylor Zantingh co-directed the accompanying video with Nushi Sharma. PISS recorded you made me / skin on linen with Colin Stewart at Hive Creative Labs in January 2025. Across its 15 tracks, the band draw on punk, poetry and sound collage to examine how violence can shape a person’s childhood and sense of self.
PISS, completed by guitarist Tyler Paterson, bassist Gavin Moya and drummer Garreth Roberts, will support Gilla Band on a North American tour in October before returning to Europe in November. Their upcoming dates include Pitchfork Paris on 7 November, Sonic City in Belgium on 8 November and a London show at Moth Club on 14 November”.
Back in March, Post Trash interviewed PISS. They are a band that I am very new to and discovered through their NME interview. I am not sure if they have been played on BBC Radio 6 Music here, but they seem readymade for the station. I know there is a growing fanbase in the U.K. Their forthcoming London show will see many of their fans flock to see PISS on the stage. Ahead of the release of you made me / skin on linen, there is a lot of excitement around the band. I know I have called their music important but, at this current time, what they are writing about seems as important and urgent as anything else:
“Since 2024, the band has experienced a rise that feels distinctly organic and out of step with the contemporary industry. PISS has officially released only three Bandcamp exclusive songs, yet the four-piece is anything but idle. They’ve sold out venues all across Canada, booked international tours (with another one around the corner), and opened for fast-rising contemporary UK punk phenomena Lambrini Girls.
PISS’ success shouldn’t be a surprise given the undeniable talent of guitarist Tyler Paterson, bassist Gavin Moya, drummer Garreth Roberts, and vocalist Taylor Zantingh. But the seemingly (and most likely intentionally) indefinable artistic character makes it hard to pin down just what PISS is.
“It started as a very kind of conventional band setting, and it's kind of grown into something where I'm not really sure what it is,” Paterson reflects.
“[It’s] kind of like an assemblage self-portrait of one person's experience growing up in a culture of widespread normalized violence. And it has since grown into something that's difficult to describe. It's multi-genre, it’s very collaborative, and there are elements of performance art,” Zantingh adds.
Although completely ineffable, the songs on three demos are brawny, loud, discordant incursions that examine the grief and trauma of sexual assault and a culture that normalizes violence. The highly concept-driven approach to songwriting intricately navigates the challenges of weaving together the brutality of sonics with the significance of the content.
“I've been writing about the subject matter since I was very young. So I knew that it always seemed to fall short unless I was creating a larger project. At the same time, even just writing alone without the use of instruments and sound collage didn't feel sufficient because the subject is monstrous,” says Zantingh.
PISS’ music features samples from feminist writers and activists, drawing from various artistic disciplines like film, poetry, and literature, Zantingh says, “what I'm doing comes from a long lineage of women speaking about this stuff. So, I think when we're looking at the songwriting process, it's never ever just like ‘oh let's like write a song.’ It's like ‘what is this broader project we're trying to do, and what’s the next piece of that?’”
Past tours have been hard on the band, balancing the authenticity of highly emotional, physically demanding performances without torturing themselves for weeks on end or turning the show into a caricature of itself.
But Zantingh says, “it's kind of hard not to feel motivated when we're playing live… I'm still often in a place of awe when I think about how deeply I get to connect with people that I don't even know and will never meet again.”
PISS and their music have a purpose, and now, Zantingh says they are “living that purpose.” As they take their tour across the world this spring, the charge that started with three demos nearly four years ago doesn’t seem to be fading. If anything, it’s surging into something new”.
PHOTO CREDIT: Grace Grignon
Prior to ending with that NME interview I want to highlight this conversation from September. Rightfully proclaiming how PISS cannot be ignored, I do wonder what the reviews of their album will be like. They will be hugely positive, but in terms of how they approach the songs and what angle to take. As PISS bring samples into their music, I wonder how this is translated to the stage:
“The four friends have grown exponentially in the past three years, and this growth has been mirrored in the band's rise. They went from not expecting anybody outside of Vancouver to pay attention to the project to touring extensively nationally and internationally, and signing with not one but two powerhouse indie labels (Paper Bag Records in Canada and Sub Pop internationally) for the release of their debut album, you made me / skin on linen. It was all on the strength of their intense live show, which begins with a content warning, and their visceral three-song demo.
Their success cannot be looked at without exploring the role the subject matter they deal with has on the band. "Being in this particular project and talking about this specific subject matter carries a really interesting weight when it comes to looking at the reception. On one hand, as an artist it's so fulfilling and rewarding to have so many people approach you after a show and say they resonate with what you've done, but because of what the subject matter is, I'm constantly struck by what it means about our world that so many people are so hungry for this type of music and so many people feel so moved by it," Zantingh says.
"It's a very strange place to be in as an artist because it's my art, which is a product outside of me, but it's directly connected to my body and directly connected to the lived experiences of every single person in the room when we're sharing the songs. At the end of the day, even if you directly have not been assaulted or a been victim of violence yourself, I truly believe that sexual violence is a soul wound that touches everybody in some way. I think that's something that is impossible to ignore when you look at the reception that we've gotten," she continues.
Paterson recalls that seeing the reaction of the crowd after their first show reassured them they were on the right path and describes the growth of the band as "shocking, surprising and fulfilling at the same time."
"It's just been a roller coaster ride that none of us really expected to happen, and things have just accelerated at such a pace that we're trying to all keep our bearings while things keep getting bigger and bigger, which I think we're doing a pretty good job of," he notes.
The band's live show attracted the attention of producer Colin Stewart, who saw one of the first videos they ever posted, a video of them performing "time loop at hot slit" at a friend's house. He got in touch and offered to record their debut album. The quartet accepted and headed to the Hive Creative Labs in Victoria over the 2024–2025 winter holidays to record you made me / skin on linen with Stewart and Max Frazer.
PISS moved quickly, recording the album in about a week, barely leaving the studio save for getting food and ringing in the New Year with a short walk outside, an experience that Roberts says "was like stepping into another world," and one that Moya likens to being "in a spaceship."
Along with the songs that make up the album, the band also incorporate samples, including the sound of children playing, and clips of writers and activists — such as Toni Morrison, Andrea Dworkin, Vikki Reynolds and Manon Garcia — speaking. They also bring a written interview with German militant feminist group Rote Zora to life with bursts of noise and Zantingh's affecting vocal delivery for the penultimate track, titled "Rote Zora. 'Resistance is Possible.' Emma, no. 6, June 1984, pp. 39-41."
These samples reinforce the message of the record and serve to offer different perspectives on gender-based violence in order to meet everyone where they are in their respective journeys.
"I hoped that the samples would sort of function as a reading list, where you could read a really wide range of ideological perspectives on dealing with the issue of gender-based violence, so you could come out of the record with the tools that you need to form an opinion that fulfills whatever it is that you're facing. I'm very aware that there's no singular path out of these things for us as individuals, [or] for us as a whole. Wherever you are, there will be somewhere for you to have a starting point," Zantingh explains.
"I don't think that the record would be successful if it was prescriptive or dogmatic in some way of 'this is the answer' because, ultimately, there isn't an answer that anybody has found that works completely. If there was, we wouldn't be here”.
NME spotlighted PISS recently. Just before they play here in the U.K., there is all this buzz and hype. Whereas some groups get heat because of the joy they bring or they tap into something anthemic and unifying, things are a bit different when it comes to PISS. Something deeper. NME write how “the Canadian four-piece shine a stark spotlight on the trauma of sexual violence: “This record is supposed to continue a conversation that’s been going on for a really long time”:
“The band are sitting with NME a few days before End Of The Road, sipping orange juice at a pub around the corner from their temporary digs in Wanstead. “This record is supposed to continue a conversation that’s been going on for a really long time. It feels like simultaneously the easiest and the most difficult thing I’ve ever done.”
Piss have only ever had this specific mission statement in mind. The band began when Zantingh – the only member to come from a hardcore background – met Patterson at a party, and ended up moving from Ontario to Vancouver to live with him and start a group. All the while, the vocalist, who also studied Creative Writing at university, had been crafting “a poetry collection and short fiction, but nothing felt like it was clicking”. When the idea came to turn them into lyrics for a record, though, that changed. Zantingh sketched an outline for the record that same weekend. Soon, Moya and Roberts were invited to join.
“What was empowering was that I felt like I had the skills on one hand to say what I wanted to say in the very precise way that I wanted to say it, [but also] all my life I’ve been getting really comfortable with being a total freak on stage and not caring what people think,” Zantingh explains. Moving from her hometown gave her the distance to write about her past, while her bandmates swiftly proved themselves the right kind of people to facilitate and support such a heavy undertaking. “Everything about this project is hard for me in some way, but the hardest thing for them is doing it for me,” Zantingh readily admits. “A lot of people want art about trauma, and then when trauma symptoms come up, all of a sudden it’s like… ‘Oh’. But you can’t have one without the other.
PHOTO CREDIT: Maya Fuhr for NME
“It’s kind of this elephant in the room that I’m working with three men on this project,” she continues. “But [the other side] is that this record is so connected with experiences of men harming me, but then in order to create it I had this really great group of men come and, without ego, just offer their help and support in order to get us where we are. It’s not just me and my lyrics that got us here; it’s all of our strengths coming together for this common goal.” As if to underline her point, her bandmates sit back for the vast majority of today’s conversation, and just let Zantingh speak.
Piss’ approach is decidedly nuanced, contrary to what a lot of the “heinous” comments on their YouTube videos might suggest, or what certain factions of their burgeoning audience might cast them as (“There were two men at the front in Bristol, and I gave the trigger warning at the start of the set, and they just both went, ‘WOKE’, and then walked out,” Zantingh laughs). There’s an awful lot of thought, research and different vantage points across their debut, and Zantingh is equally considered in conversation. “I think the most important opinion that I have is that we should never be scared of ideas, and I think a lot of people are right now,” she says.
“In a lot of the feminist songwriting that I hear right now, there’s a trend of really simple, buzzword-type stuff. And there’s definitely men out there who need to hear that, but they’re probably not coming to your shows,” she continues. “If you want the men in your life to be held to a higher standard, talk to them like they’re adult humans with working brains and let them disappoint you. I believe in my heart of hearts that sexual violence is a collective soul wound that hurts and touches everybody. And maybe a lot of men who are close to coming to that understanding will be pushed away by having a woman who is their peer looking down on them”.
Let’s end things there. With their debut album out on 30th October, there be new attention and focus on PISS. The Vancouver band are something very special. That is something I have said about a lot of artists, though it seems especially true of PISS. Go and listen to their music and get their debut album when it comes out. See them live. The November London date is sold out, but they are back in the capital in February. I do think that you made me / skin on linen will be rated as one of the…
BEST albums of the year.
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Follow PISS
PHOTO CREDIT: Grace Grignon
Official:
https://pisstheband.neocities.org/
Instagram:
https://www.instagram.com/piss_theband
Bandcamp:
https://pisstheband.bandcamp.com/album/you-made-me-skin-on-linen
Spotify:
https://open.spotify.com/artist/1nGBerMI4y0SI6fZk97uYf?si=wLnLk_2BSHu02mb0fxY59Q
YouTube:
