Sunglasz Vendor : Break Glass
Sunglasz Vendor psych themselves itself up to run through glass right from its opening notes and first words of Break Glass: “Break glass and sort of run away.” The clattering percussion drops to a slumbering pace as if to avoid that relentless impulse, which circles back a couple more times to finally smash into that translucent barrier—soundtracked by a distorting crescendo of blown-out raucous guitars. It’s this start-stop sensibility, emulating the steep fluctuations of heightened human emotion, that makes Sunglasz Vendor’s second hair-raising record leave you glued to the edge of your seat more than last year’s predecessor, Unwinding.
The word “unwinding” alone might’ve once best encompassed the experimental Bristol trio. Songwriter Rafi Cohen (Bingo Fury), bassist Eve Rosenberg (Ex Agent), and drummer Finn Hodgson (GRANDCHILD) come from different pockets of Bristol’s underground scene—each member’s individual flirtations with poignant balladry, unrelenting post-punk, and abrasive post-rock coalesce into unpredictable post-hardcore.
Their first record wasn’t as such, though—its opening track was just an eight-minute exercise of unwinding post-rock that predictably concluded with scorching feedback, with its proceeding tracks fastened in an unchanging ‘90s slacker-rock lane. However, Break Glass remarkably abandons consistency for exciting volatility—its songs rarely keep their place, the melodies are always on the precipice of falling apart as jangly chords combust into explosive turbulence further fueled by Cohen’s scream-shout yelps.
This is music meant to be listened to loud; the trio swell with burning passion as they contort their riffs until they’re slammed to the moon. “Seen Read Etiquette” gallops from the intricate licks and aerobic percussion. “Combustibility Ratings” violently jolts between breakneck percussion à la Bloc Party’s “Skeleton” and spindly feedback like Unwound’s. “Was on Fire” is a rarity, a sparse breather marching exhaustedly to provide room for introspective but sinister guitar work.
Concurrently, there’s a self-aware tale of the modern-day compulsion for validation underpinning Break Glass. The math rock “Guilty Pleasure” intensifies with dense riffs that match Cohen’s frustration in struggling to keep up with the latest underground music trends and combat against gatekeepers. “I’ll Do to You Yourself” is pretty and discombobulating as its sparkly arpeggio is repeatedly disrupted by colossal dissonance, fitting for its words about recklessly pursuing a relationship like oil and water.
“Toppling” is as thrilling as Squid’s steadily immersive “2010.” The similar gradual unease embodies the creeping dread from being aware of the world’s deterioration. It seamlessly segues into “Smallest Violin,” a standout sprint harnessing the titular idiom to lambast one’s own toxic communicative abilities—“shut the trap, tie it down, bolt the hatch,” Cohen copes frantically with the music following suit, as if accepting his words fail to “amount to something more than drivel.”
The record closes with the impressionistic post-rock instrumental “(broke glass)” that feels like the fight-or-flight recovery after the adrenaline-depleting run through the glass—it’s all shattered, and picking up the pieces is a vain effort. Yet at the end, the three-piece ramp up with an uplifting racket to encourage moving forward, even at your lowest. By drawing upon the anxieties of life’s pivotal moments, Sunglasz Vendor take Break Glass into unexpected directions. The most inspiring of those is that while they spiritually teeter on the edge of self-sabotage, they never get there.
Label: Vendrrrz
Year: 2026
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