There’s not a dull second on Liquid Compactor, a debut that grooves, thrashes and seduces. Penelope Stevens’ vocal delivery steers from whispered charm to full-bodied screams landing somewhere between slacker cool and femme fatale with surf guitars, psychedelic keys, and blown-out garage fuzz all swirling together across 10 unpredictable party tracks.

The thrill of Liquid Compactor lies in just how wildly it zigs and zags. Montenegro On Ice sets the tone with a rhythm so off-kilter it takes multiple listens to crack, but pulling you in with hypnotic vocals and a swaggering, fuzzed-out chorus. Pool Party delivers a slinking and seductive groove with a hushed vocal that oozes attitude, and a keyboard line that locks in hypnotically with the bass to create a noir seaside daydream. Sweat is a feral punk banger that opens with total abandon but then drops abruptly into an ultra-groovy surf riff before tearing away into its frantic hardcore chorus with the entire band screaming “Sweat! Sweat! Sweat!” in unison. Head Crusher is a speed-addled burst of pop-punk that drowns itself in fuzz. Then comes Placeholder, with laid-back and ultra-catchy verses and a gear change in the chorus that shouldn’t work on paper, but feels effortless in practice, like a band that’s working to surprise itself in real time.

The real appeal here is that in an age where so much music is overly quantized, auto-corrected, and glued to the grid, Liquid Compactor sounds like a real band grooving live in the room, and there’s something deeply satisfying about hearing them follow the vibe, not the click track. You never quite know where you’ll land next, but despite the wild stylistic range, it never veers into novelty or incoherence. The seductive swagger stays consistent throughout the whole record as they stretch genre conventions but always land somewhere satisfying. The production is dry, roomy, and unvarnished as though you’ve just stumbled into their rehearsal room, with dusty charm and a refreshing absence of sheen.

Liquid Compactor feels like a crate-digger’s gem with the feel of a true indie record. The stylistic leaps work because the band are genuinely having fun, with ease and chemistry between them. There’s texture in the arrangements with vocal harmonies drifting in and out, keyboard lines, and moments of space and quiet that are allowed to linger when needed, and a deep consistency of feel beneath the unpredictable chaos.

Ten full-bodied tracks crafted with intent, Liquid Compactor recalls the golden era of lo-fi indie record stores, and every track lands. There are moments that feel like The Doors in their grooviest mode, and the whole thing moves with the confidence of a group trusting each other’s musical intuition. It’s also seriously fun. The vocal melody on Eutychus climbs and climbs, stacking key changes in the kind of move you don’t hear often anymore, recalling the structural inventiveness of The Beach Boys and early psych-pop, whilst also aligning seamlessly with the 90s slacker-rock revival. Liquid Compactor somehow merges the wild ambition of 60s songwriting with the ramshackle looseness of 90s DIY indie, and feels like a love letter to two very different ages of music all at once. If you’re tired of bands playing it safe and sticking to their formula, then this is a thrilling debut that thrives on left turns, and lands every single one.