From its very first moments, Tankerlow’s latest full-length release, Slagroom, makes it abundantly clear that it has no interest in playing by conventional rules. The record opens with an unnerving, drawn-out passage of uneasy tension—the kind of opening that might tempt casual listeners to hit skip, but serves a deliberate purpose. It sets the stage for a deeply experimental sonic journey that rewards patience.
What follows is an unpredictable ride built on a striking balance of prominent, dark soundscapes. Distorted, fuzzy guitars loop hypnotic riffs, anchored alongside vocals that thread through the atmosphere to cultivate an overwhelming sense of mystery.
Tracks like “Glory Hole” tease familiarity early on; its intro carries the deceptive posture of a mainstream hook, only to unravel into a wave of rebellious, unyielding noise as it progresses. The track “Formula Baby” operates on a similar bait-and-switch dynamic, subverting traditional song structures in favor of raw edge.
Elsewhere, the record leans into pure atmospheric tension. “Beets” stands out with its hushed, whispered vocals set against a dense, ominous cello, anchoring the album’s dark aesthetic. Just when the claustrophobia reaches its peak, “Sanguine” arrives like a much-needed breath of fresh air—offering a moment of distant clarity amid the haze.
Slagroom is admittedly not an album for everyone. It avoids easy hooks, clean harmonies, and predictable verse-chorus patterns. Instead, Tankerlow embraces a challenging side of modern experimental music, weaving intense screamed vocals and strenuous, abrasive instrumentation into a cohesive, chaotic dance. For those willing to strap in for the ride, Slagroom offers a compelling, enigmatic listening experience.
