The year has been one of shock and paralysis - one borne root from senseless violence and disease, activated through trauma and media, manifested through overstimulation and disorientation. With their blistering self-titled debut in 2019, the Los Angeles four-piece vaulted to screamo’s forefront with their white-hot salvos of mathcore intensity, spearheaded by dynamic, desperate songwriting and frontwoman Erica’s piercing vocals, like on punishing tracks like “death as a crown” and “half-truth”. On their sophomore effort, however, they have expanded their sonic palette, with tapped technicality, ambient collages and tonal and tempo whiplashes coloring the duration of As We Suffer’s… brief 21-minute runtime.

Between melancholic arpeggios and emoviolence freakouts (for example, on Essentially A Vivisection), their balancing acts between beauty and mania allow As We Suffer...’s songs to transcend their original live-room claustrophobia, and craft images of a much bleaker reality - one both prescient and plagued grey in the context of a calamitous year. At times, the breakdowns still remain too long for their own good, and yes, the drums still noticeably scream their formative influences (Orchid, specifically), but the best of these brief tracks manage to capture a sense of painful urgency, akin to an internal world lit on fire.

This reaches maximum effect on album highlight Pixel Vision Anxiety, where the band lurches headfirst into neurotic, knotty riffs, painting vivid images of disease and self-medication. Riffs slot nervously in and out of another upon an insistent rhythm section, and unlike their previous all-out ferocity, their newfound-sense of restraint allows them to channel an urgent despondency. Locked in at every measure, the rhythm section hinges on every fragment of Erica’s words. Here, every slight tempo shift and acceleration translates like an alarming shock to her mental state. Amidst her distraught shrieks, the words document a gradual, crushing descent, from flickering dispositions (“hope for the best yet brace for the worst”) to staccatoed observations (“medicated and numb/regimented, overwhelmed”). As Erica’s imagery closes in on herself (“sweat prevails/constant strain of sickness”), the track suddenly disintegrates, akin to a sense of resigned isolation.

But the break is merely a deceptive calm before the storm. As the track’s neurotic riffs reemerge, frantic tapping battling with drum breaks, they feel akin to panic attacks - as if fighting to regain control amidst feverish pain, only to no avail. Eventually, the episode gives way to an explosive, tremolo-laden freakout, as Erica shatters. “Remember when I didn't need 50 pills to function/Remember when my body turned against me,” she frantically screams, and the cacophony comes to a crashing halt, welcoming the apocalyptic tape loops and Morse code that await in the smoky distance. A haunting portrait of distress, Pixel Vision Anxiety is a three-minute monster that feels like it lasts ten - grounding not only a poignant, personal statement from one of screamo’s leading lights, but also itself serving as a harrowing mirror for a collectively shared despondency.

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