far from reaching the furthest extremities of 'digital hardcore,' and the aimless, aggressively noisy genres in that general orbit that femtanyl pulls from, this sub-14min EP is often a weird appreciatory note for that sound's history, mixed in with intensely personal and horrifically uncomfortable recitations. the flurry that gets close to ear fatigue covers it only a bit, and the (comparatively) more mellow and basically unintelligible lyrics on ACT RIGHT serve well as a ramp up, to give it a tiny bit more space before the manic wells that femtanyl reaches so readily into.

but the lyrics while we're at those wells are the touchy things; both tip-toeing around very real trauma and diving right into it feel (sometimes justifiably) uncomfortable, but there is no middle ground in the music. "I get clocked like it's a job to me" is really the only smart line that transcends the void of uneasiness that is PUSH UR T3MPRR, but when the start of the next verse is "I got a guy and we're best friends, I hope we get to kill ourselves together," it's a challenge of sorting out innuendo and real feelings poured out.

if there's anything that Danny Brown's Atrocity Exhibition taught that can apply here, it's that you often have to be in a clear, positive headspace to be able to pull so easily and so fluidly from serious trauma; maybe that's all that can be hoped for here too, or at least that things are headed there. GIRL HELL 1999 surely seems, in a close read, that it's realizations pouring over by the end, being confrontational in what you want and how you want to be perceived and appreciated—but the lyrics all across are unbalanced, swinging widely between those (maybe) highs and (maybe) lows imbued throughout P3T and KATAMARI.

it all depends i guess, since CHASER is broadly pejorative towards all it looks at, and is as conceited as it is catchy; maybe the main drive is emptying, to take from that well and throw it back in the faces of the people who caused it, who instigate it, or are made uncomfortable by her existence. yet again, that's all of what can be hoped for.

at least in the meantime—indefinitely, more likely—the screams that envelop the cracks left partially unfilled by this cacophony will suffice in tiding it all over. that's the best thing this project succeeds at: sounding really good, even if it hurts.