The debut from Vancouver foursome PISS blends apocalyptic riffs with crushing drums, musings from female intellectuals like Toni Morrison and Manon Garcia, the whisper-to-bellow poetry of vocalist Taylor Zantingh, and righteous rage. you made me / skin on linen is a thundering indictment of a crumbling world and a eulogy for dashed hopes. Opening with a sound collage of children describing their dreams for the future—kids who want to be astronauts, baseball players, and a “cat hotel owner”—you made me / skin on linen traces how those aspirations can curdle almost immediately: “I learned some people only listen when you’re screaming,” Zantingh howls amidst the chaos of “I wanted to be a singer.” PISS’ response to the world’s indignities is to double down on its members’ strengths, and the band’s instinctual approach to making music results in startling, fractured pieces that nestle into the album’s found-sound interludes. On “blocking a scene you can’t remember,” a young woman dissociates as she prepares to confront her childhood abuser, growing increasingly frantic as the music grinds and swells. Album closer “i keep trying to change the ending,” meanwhile, is the calm after the album’s storm, punctuated by a ferocious drum interlude that only adds power to its hushed final moments.