Microwave – Let’s Start Degeneracy | Album Review
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Pure Noise Records
What’s your drug of choice?
For some, it might be nicotine. For others, it might be weed. And some might not have any at all, claiming edge or sobriety. I personally have a caffeine addiction - cold brew or iced coffee is a morning staple in this house. As a kid, I swore up and down that I’d never get addicted to anything, but here I am, writing this review with a slightly diluted coffee in hand. Growing up, right?
While one could get addicted to almost anything - a substance, a routine, a morning coffee - I think that the power of emotion is particularly addicting. We, as humans, are always chasing a dopamine hit, looking for the next experience that will hit just right. Microwave’s latest release, Let’s Start Degeneracy, is a one-two punch that examines religious trauma and drug use through the lens of memory and all the conflicting emotions that come along with it. At times upbeat, sad, and even nostalgic, this record was a gut punch in a way that I could never have predicted.
I’ve been looking forward to this album for literal years, as in April 2022, Microwave began releasing singles that would eventually find their way onto the LP. The first track released, “Circling the Drain,” was a huge success and seemed to be stylistically in line with what the band had been writing up to that point. The group released a few more singles over the next two years that, while vastly different from “Circling the Drain,” promised that LSD was shaping up to be another great album from Microwave.
I’m a huge fan of the albums Much Love (2016) and Stovall (2014) in particular, and I find myself listening to them regularly. Much Love is a warm, oddly comforting album, and I love playing it on my commute home from work. I let each song wash over me like a hug, allowing tracks like “Drown” and “Lighterless” to take my mind off the drive. (If you see me sobbing along to every word, mind your business!) In contrast, when I feel like having a cathartic screamo sing-along, I’ll blast “The Fever” off Stovall. The build of this song is incredible, layering the instruments and pushing the vocals until the last chorus explodes with raw emotion. It’s purely incredible. With their third album, Death Is A Warm Blanket (2019), Microwave leaned into a dense, heavy grunge sound. Tracks like “The Brakeman Has Resigned” and the title track, “DIAWB,” showcase the band’s ability to write gritty music that makes you want to absolutely throw down. Each album is like a microcosm to me, creating its own little world and mood.
Since Microwave took their time with their rollout of LSD, fans had been waiting for two years to explore the next world the band had created. You can imagine my surprise when I clicked on the first track of Let’s Start Degeneracy, and a beautiful hymn began to play. I sat in stunned silence as “Softly and Tenderly Jesus is Calling” flowed out of my speakers. This was the last thing I expected as an opening track. What exactly has Microwave been up to?
A sizable departure from their previous work, Let’s Start Degeneracy shows Microwave experimenting and pushing boundaries with their sound. Instead of layers of gritty guitar texture, heavy drums, and vocals that would occasionally verge into screamo territory, this album features warm synths, restrained guitar, and smooth vocals that allow the lyrics to take center stage. The songs are lighter, with a spacey feel that sounds extremely modern. The tracklist reminds me of a shelf of tchotchkes, each song a sentimental collectible, with the album itself as the shelf. The band currently has an inspiration playlist pinned to their Spotify page with ten tracks ranging from Frank Ocean and Mac Miller to Nine Inch Nails and Radiohead. The crazy part is that you can hear bits and pieces of all those disparate sounds at various points on this album as the band dips into adjacent genres while still maintaining their personal style at the core.
In “Circling the Drain,” perhaps the closest song on the record to Microwave’s previous grungy sound, Nathan Hardy shouts in the exuberant-yet-jaded chorus: “You can dig for pity in the hearts of your peers / Or cover up your eyes and make the world disappear / You can start a fire / But everyone’s singing the same stale song.” Whenever the song gets to this part, I want to stand up through the sunroof of my car and scream the lyrics in an in-that-moment-I-swear-we-were-infinite kind of way: “I’m here justifying the future, not redeeming the dead!” This is my favorite song on the album and one that is eternally in my listening rotation.
Furthering the nostalgia that this record elicits, “Strangers” sent me back a few decades, reminding me immediately of the 1995 DC Talk album Jesus Freak that I would constantly play on my clunky CD player as a little kid. The guitar tone and subdued vocals are eerily similar, which is interesting considering that DC Talk is a contemporary Christian band, and Microwave’s album opens with a hymn cover. Coincidence? Probably, but the parallel is undeniable. “Strangers” is a mellow track with a little bit of groove, with Nathan sighing over a dancy beat that he’s “ready to leave.” The song is followed by an equally calm track called “Concertito in G Major.” As the title suggests, this delightful piano piece is a welcome interlude on the album. The sounds of running water and an otherworldly voice humming and muttering lyrics create a beautiful soundscape that I wish lasted longer. I am reminded of quiet afternoons at home, practicing the piano for hours as a teenager. The pairing of these two tracks is oddly charming and is a wonderful listening experience.
Of course, a major highlight of Let’s Start Degeneracy is the title track that made me recall my heavy indie/electronic phase of the 2010s - it’s a little bit beep-boop and a little bit weird, but what else would you expect from a song whose acronym is LSD? “Laying on the carpet, barely tethered to the ground / Shut the door and turn your lights off…I wanna wrap around and break you like a glowstick.” Man, I would’ve eaten those lyrics up in 2014. The repetitive synths and sound effects are addictive earworms that I couldn’t shake for days. Although the song is upbeat and fun, the lyrics wrestle with the serious subject of drug use and facing a strict religious upbringing. The band themselves have openly mentioned that much of the album was inspired after Hardy and drummer Tito Pittard took ayahuasca on a trip to Peru. The message is intended to be one of healing: Hardy says, “It’s about learning to be happy and take care of yourself.” These sentiments are summarized in the chorus of “Let’s Start Degeneracy:”
A fleeting moment of clarity
At the end of a dead-end street
Caught up in shit you don’t believe
Shoveling a way out
Mixing styrofoam and gasoline
Better living through chemistry
Ready to be a liability
Blowing out a war cloud
As someone who attended a strict church during my adolescence and then went to an equally strict religious college, the lyrics of this song resonated with me deeply. Growing older has forced me to reckon with my own beliefs and standards, and though everyone’s journey is unique, it is comforting to know that I’m not alone as I grow, heal, and change. While Microwave writing music like this wasn’t on my 2024 bingo card, I understand why they did. Seeing a band I admire open up and be vulnerable with their audience is special. Not every artist offers such an intimate view into their internal struggles and thoughts, and Microwave did it beautifully on this album.
Sitting with myself after listening to this album, I am sorting through the mixed bag of emotions it elicited in me. It felt like I was sitting in a movie theater watching scenes from my childhood played back to me: I’m twelve and gripping a clammy hymnal in a church pew, then I’m eight and listening to my parents’ CDs, and then I’m a lonely seventeen and practicing the piano at home on a rainy afternoon. I am moved to smile, to wince, to laugh. I am again pushed to look inward and face my fears and feelings. I did not expect this album to move me as deeply as it did: I anticipated a rock-heavy, emo romp, not ego death set to music. But I’m not upset about it, not even a little bit. I’m grateful.
Britta Joseph is a musician and artist who, when she isn’t listening to records or deep-diving emo archives on the internet, enjoys writing poetry, reading existential literature, and a good iced matcha. You can find her on Instagram @brittajoes.
