We Are All Fucked comes with a warning: This is “not a happy summer album.” Listening to it in the darkest of November is an especially dangerous pairing. The oppressively bleak mood, like a wet rain that you feel in your bones, is exemplified here by blown speaker sounds, twitchy beats that refuse to follow a click and skip, taps, vocals, and samples twisted and distorted beyond recognition. I read an interview in Seattle Weekly where he referenced Nirvana’s “Heart-Shaped Box” as one of his all-time fave songs. We all have moments when we feel ugly and stupid and this album goes deeply PNW with songs like “Suicide capital” and “Slit my wrist by the ocean.” But there’s also catharsis here, and a beauty you can commiserate with, and a production playground that constantly pushes into new terrain.