Guerilla Toss 2025
Photo: Ebru Yildiz / Sub Pop

Guerilla Toss Capture an Essence with ‘You’re Weird Now’

Guerilla Toss excel in portraying a tangible connection between band and listener, cutting through the prism of pretence for something more instantaneous.

You're Weird Now
Guerilla Toss
Sub Pop
12 September 2025

Rock is predicated on sincerity. Everyone from Arthur Lee to Courtney Love released their greatest work based on sincerity, emotion, and rational thinking, which is what brings us to Guerilla Toss, an art pop outfit fusing esoteric sensibilities with genuine howls of throaty, rasping creative expression. You’re Weird Now‘s opening number, “Krystal Ball”, brims with nervous energy: spiky vocals ricocheting next to the array of bass and keyboards bursting all around. Frontwoman Kassie Carlson admittedly fluffs some of the notes, but the thrusting passion is immense and immediate: a real jeu d’esprit.

Fans of the Cars will also find this an enjoyable album, thanks to the synths that permeate the mix, cementing the acidity with pulsating riffs. “CEO Personal & Pleasure” allows Jake Lichter every opportunity to improvise with carefree luster, a cavalcade of instrumentation barging through the backdrop. Lichter plays well, as does percussionist Peter Negroponte, thumping and splashing like Tony McCarroll on Oasis opus Definitely Maybe. What’s readily apparent is that perfection is neither the band’s privilege nor problem; atmosphere is their bag.

Carlson is joined by another band member on “Red Flag to Angry Bull”, and while the harmonies don’t synchronise in a conventional sense, Guerilla Toss produce a sound that’s kitsch, kinetic, and rippling with rapier-sharp wit. “You jumped the gun,” the singer screams, accusing the listeners of abandoning civility for cowardice. It’s difficult to discern whether the band are spitting their venom at their country’s government, but it’s an anger that stems from emotions far grander than the usual “Girl &Boy Break-Up” tale commonly found in pop.

Swithing between tempos, “Panglossian Mannequin” shifts from slow, waltzesque verses to a harder-edged middle-eight featuring impassioned screams and brusque guitars. The banging sound of “When Dogs Bark” is somewhat meditative, with droning hooks guided by drums slamming from the far edge of the studio. It’s a triumphant-sounding piece, with the most impressive vocal on the record to boot.

“Crocodile Cloud”, by contrast, is fairly dreadful: an uneasy experiment in heavy metal, featuring an inexplicably loud bass guitar. “Life’s a Zoo” similarly suffers from an identity crisis, opening with a riff direct from U2‘s Boy, before descending into a hodge-podge of ridiculous words and splashy organ effects. To Carlson’s credit, the vocalist does everything in their power to deliver a truthful, organic melody, but measured against such madness, the frontperson comes off as mouse-like. There is a saving grace on “Life’s a Zoo”, a barrelling guitar solo reminiscent of Steve Howe during his tenure in Asia.

Things pick up with “Favourite Sun”. The tune opens with a keyboard swirling over tight, robotic drums, echoing the musical dialogue Tony Banks enjoyed with Phil Collins. Then the power chords blast out, and Carlson, who has spent much of the tune in silence, lets out an inspired cackle, commanding the stage with a triumphant blare. “I have met beforehand,” Carlson shouts, “…It isn’t so unique.” It’s hard to classify the track, but by this stage, that’s hardly Guerilla Toss’s problem. They are here to produce the music; it’s my job to listen to it.

You’re Weird Now comprises ten songs, another throwback to the fastidiousness of punk and New Wave. Truthfully, there’s an absence of guitar pyrotechnics, and an acoustic contrast would also be pleasant, but the collage of voice/keys/bass makes an impressive whole: an orchestra of rock. While there is flair, it’s a reflection of the group’s eagerness over musical proficiency.

More to the point, Guerilla Toss excel in portraying a tangible connection between band and listener, cutting through the prism of pretence for something more instantaneous. Covering these bases comes a drummer who plunders through the scenario like a machine: boom bash boom bash. Nobody’s going to be wowed by this demonstration of cymbals, but it might inspire a nine-year-old to take up the kit and learn. Isn’t that the essence of art pop?

RATING 7 / 10
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