This isn’t the norm. From the off, there’s something different and unique going on with Vancouver noise-punks PISS. It’s unusual to tour outside of your own country as a headline act and appear at festivals in Europe and North America when your band only started performing live two years ago. They released a self-produced record titled thee demos, which was recorded in a basement and camper-van in 2024. It would go on to be re-released in 2026 as a 7” single by the State51 Conspiracy label (now sold out). With live shows generating so much heat, it drew the attention of Sub Pop, who will now release their debut LP, you made me / skin on linen.
PISS is Taylor Zantingh on vocals, Tyler Paterson on guitar, Gavin Moya on bass), and Garreth Roberts on drums. Their debut was recorded back in early 2025 by Colin Stewart at Hive Creative Labs. As the band’s success has been relatively unorthodox, the release for the record isn’t any different. You can purchase a physical copy of the record and donate an additional one for distribution to an array of libraries and feminist record / book shops across North America. Zantingh explains the reasons behind this initiative: “It is more important than ever to lean into offline, autonomous social spaces. We cannot build a real movement by communicating with tools built and controlled by the powers we aim to challenge!!!”
An advisory is fairly unusual for a record, but as with their live shows, where this is spoken by Zantingh to the audience before they perform, one is issued here. “This album contains themes that some listeners may find distressing. Listener discretion advised.” What follows isn’t easy to listen to, and the warning feels justified.
The last moment of innocence to be found on you made me / skin on linen is spoken by a child: “When I grow up I want to be a baseball player”, as part of kai and friends. It’s a field recording that captures a simple essence most will remember from childhood, before the world has had a chance to make its mark, or for you to really have any understanding of realising this dream. It’s final moment of respite before PISS drag you under with you made me / skin on linen.
I wanted to be a singer is a shocking introduction, as Zantingh sings “This is not a song, it’s self-harm”. There’s a lot to unpack here alone. The struggle to be seen and heard unless you can draw attention by screaming. If sharing painful experiences in your life is helpful, is there a way to transpose this into something ‘beautiful’? The terror in feeling unsafe in your own body as a direct result of trauma. Zantingh delivers these lines from spoken word to a brutal scream. Backed by the band, which lurches from discordant chords that unsettle to the harshest of noise, which doesn’t resemble any particular chord or melodic pattern. These are some of the record’s early themes that dominate throughout: violence and its consequences.
andrea i is a clip taken Andrea Dworkin at the Attorney General’s Commission On Pornography in 1986. It questions the way women are portrayed in pornography, highlighting the way that women are “raped and violated and humiliated until we discover that we like it”. How has this affected those watching this kind of content, and how has it shaped the way they would go on to treat and abuse women as a result? Single Time loop at hot slit addresses the overt sexualisation of women and girls, and its impact on exposure to this. The lyrics detail a young girl practising blowjobs on a stick of glue, and not being able to get rid of the taste. There’s a blend of performance art mashed with the band’s urgent and dynamic punk. It’s an uneasy listen, with lines like “They always say “I like it” and I can’t say that I don’t”.
manon on the trial of gisèle pelicot contains a sample of philosopher Manon Garcia speaking about the trial. This crime frames the record and its focus on gender-based violence. The sample questions if the vast majority of women and girls have experienced some form of sexual violence. Whilst not all men are guilty of committing these acts, the sheer number of attacks suggests that most men we know are likely to have been responsible for causing harm.
a little girl’s horse craze betrays her is sub-60 seconds of rage and harsh assault, where Zantingh screams “I wanted a way out of my body”. The title is a partial quote from Anna Freud, who was a groundbreaking child psychoanalyst and daughter of Sigmund Freud. The lyrics document a painful internal struggle, which the band soundtrack in a violent and destructive way. The following track, There was a door, is equally as abrasive, with squealing feedback and crashing drums and bass. The lyrics, painfully screamed throughout, detail some particularly grisly physical symptoms: “stuck in a corpse, blue limbs, I learned to bleed myself”. It makes for harrowing listening.
andrea ii, a second audio clip from Andrea Dworkin in 2022, says that women have the “right to defend themselves against anyone who is attacking them” and that she favours violence as a suitable alternative when the law isn’t working. how can you act opposite to this emotion? is one of the more accessible tracks here, or at least the verses, which sound like a rage-filled Sonic Youth influenced no-wave. The chorus, however, is much heavier, and the rawest form of punk. The lyrics detail an assault of the body and mind: “Do thoughts ever force themselves into your resting mind?”, and the hopeless line of “I’ll never feel safe in my body again”.
A welcome tonal break, at least musically, comes next in the form of single blocking a scene you can’t remember. The band plays a simple slowcore melody, which forms the bones for Zantingh to read a lengthy spoken-word passage. The story documents a girl’s retelling of a confrontation with her abuser and the psychological damage this has caused and left her with. The band raises the noise level considerably to emphasise the emotional pain and confrontation. It’s haunting to listen to, feeling intensely private, unfiltered as well as captivating. self-blame with thorn necklace and hummingbird is unhinged musically and lyrically. It’s as aggressive as other tracks on the record, but doesn’t have any set riff or groove, making it feel less vital.
Rote Zora. “Resistance is Possible.” Emma, no. 6, June 1984, pp. 39–41 is a half-and-half mix of spoken-word passages and the band playing at their most powerful, with a mix of driving riffs and suffocating, unharmonious and chaotic. you made me / skin on linen winds down with the longest cut on the record, I keep trying to change the ending. It’s one of the most ambitious and satisfying tracks here, incorporating spoken word, melodic guitar lines and violin. The lyrics, dreamlike, focus again on the body, birth, the scent of blood and dogs sinking their teeth into your skin. The song structure is open and free-flowing, making space for silence, crashing reverb and frenetic drums before returning to the central melody, with a softness to Zantingh’s voice.
Released to the backdrop of recent stories such as the Cornell 7 and the discovery of the bodies of 12 women who were found dead near Johannesburg over a period of two months, the issue of gender-based violence, misogyny and abuse of women and girls is as present and urgent as it has ever been. you made me / skin on linen is a shocking, unflinchingly stark debut album, and an often uncomfortable, entirely non-passive listening experience. The band lean into atonal sounds with flashes of punk fury. The deeply personal lyrics are often delivered in a shriek of anguish, as Zantingh sings on I wanted to be a singer “I spent my life learning the right way to scream so people would listen.” This shouldn’t be the case, but people are listening now.
For fans of: The Jesus Lizard, Fugazi, Chat Pile
‘you made me / skin on linen’ by PISS is released on 30th October on Sub Pop Records.
Words by Ross Peacey
