Temporal Shifter LP
Decoherence, 2026
Besides its professional sports teams, Pittsburgh rarely gets its due when it comes to the top-tier noise wranglers it churns out on the regular. Sure, you could argue that the repercussions left in the wake of Don Caballero’s 18-year run as the reigning kings of math rock, or the love its current hardcore punk scene is getting for ferocious bands like The Illiterates, White Stains, and Loose Nukes have put PGH on the map in some record nerd circles, but compared to its longtime status as “The City of Champions” in sports circles, it’s still often overlooked when it comes to bands blasting a racket of the highest order. Longtime Pittsburgh noisemakers Microwaves have been prowling the hills of Allegheny County, stirring up tense, mathy, no-wavey blasts for 25 years that’ve landed on some of the best labels for boundry-bursting, ear-blasting music. We’re talking top-tier labels for this type of roiling din, labels like Three One G, ugEXPLODE, Crucial Blast, Rococo and others, somehow fitting in nicely with those diverse rosters while also being their own particular beast. It should be cause for wide celebration and cheering at the decibel level of a capacity Heinz Stadium crowd that Microwaves are back with one of their most evolved LPs yet on the New York label Decoherence, especially as Temporal Shifter soundly asserts this overlooked trio from the Steel City as next-level HC noise rock champions.
For proof, look no further than the lead track “Son of the Central Office” which demonstrates their melding of Arab On Radar no-wave tension with the metallic prog of Voivod and Don Caballero’s fractured time signatures and wizardry. Zach Moore’s killer, snaking bass lines on “Stress Capsule” and “Digital Camo” rumble out like a live wire whipping sparks around a potholed street and give the precision of John Roman’s percussion and David Kuzy’s nervy fret-flaying guitarrorist attacks that add an electrofied edge to the album and keep give a lively feel that never gets dull or wankery. “Bedtime for Treats” might be the band’s longest song ever at 9 minutes and 9 seconds, showcasing a new approach to their songwriting that allows some space for texture and a sprawling journey through a Melvins-esque plod and instrumental mastery. And check out that wailing reverby saxophone in “Decalcomania” that inserts an extra helping of righteous no wave skronk. In short, Microwaves deliver music worthy of headbanging or chin stroking — or both if you’re willing to try such a daring and stupid maneuver. The surly confidence Microwaves have earned through decades of pounding it out in Pittsburgh and placed them high atop the champions’ podium with this album.