Sheena Ozzella and Alex Kerns drove every night to a house where nobody lived. It was a place deep in the woods, an hour commute from Buffalo, that a coworker generously gave them a key to. It was 2004, and in this quiet place they could loudly be themselves. They crafted songs until the morning sunrise crashed the party.

Fitting in wasn’t easy, at their own uncompromising fault. They were always juxtaposed on shows between thrash and powerviolence bands until they signed to the ska label Asian Man Records, subsequently signing to Boston hardcore label Bridge 9. None of it made sense but somehow it was all understood. They played awkward pop, or how NPR described “songs that unfold like mini-suites, hopscotching from one melodic figure or time signature to the next with a playwright's sense of structure”

Their appetite for touring introduced them to Max Gregor in Vermont, a high schooler at the time who was also the in-house sound engineer at the art space 242 Main. Max later joined the band, solidifying the trio.

They wrote songs that read like a diary you weren’t supposed to be reading. Today they are still writing this saga. They’re not in that same semi-abandoned home, but they’re always able to sneak away from the world to write music you’d never write if there were any proverbial flies on the wall.

Recreational Hate, their 4th studio album, explores their identity more candidly than ever before. It’s a new chapter that has been described as a sonic awakening sigh of relief. It hints of familiarity in a place where the guidelines have vanished, and anything is possible.