While Lip Critic were touring their 2024 debut album Hex Dealer across the U.S., vocalist Brett Kaser’s banking information was stolen by an obsessed fan. After discovering that the thief had purchased the band’s entire discography on Bandcamp, the group did something unexpected: they interviewed the fan about his theories on their music. These bizarre, decoded messages became the foundation for their new record, Theft World.
“I would sell my soul just to have that thing I can’t pin down,” Kaser barks on “Drumming With Izzy.” His lyrics are a confetti-blast of thievery, covering everything from shoplifting and the predatory gambling industry to the metaphorical theft of his own heart. The line perfectly encapsulates the experience of listening to this slippery, inscrutable album—it feels simultaneously like a thief evading capture and an impenetrable vault.
Theft World is a labyrinthine record, designed to confound the listener. While tracks like “Shoplifting” offer a comically clear-cut narrative—where God informs a child stealing Gatorade, “You’re not getting to heaven”—the album’s victims are often complicit in their own undoing. In “Jackpot,” the gambler acknowledges a shared responsibility with the predators draining their account, while the speaker in “Debt Forest” admits that in losing control, they have essentially stolen from themselves.
Kaser’s writing style is a masterstroke of obfuscation, filled with recurring motifs of holes, bottles, and explosions. There is a tantalizing, almost linear narrative hidden within the tracklist, if only one could figure out how to arrange the pieces. The songs are populated by half-drawn characters who delight in this confusion, such as in “Talon,” where Kaser declares, “You threw the papers in the deep fryer, cranked up at 388!”
Musically, Theft World reflects this shiftiness through a collage of hardcore, glitch-pop, and industrial sounds. While it shares some DNA with the gritty, metallic aesthetic of Mandy, Indiana’s URGH, this record feels more like a trip to a twisted fairground. It is fast-paced and brightly colored, utilizing bouncing sawtooth synths in “Two Lucks,” doo-wop backing vocals in “Legs In a Snare,” and the distinct, bubbling sound of slot machines in “Jackpot.” Kaser’s vocal delivery, less reliant on effects than on Hex Dealer, shifts into tones reminiscent of Danny Brown and Gilla Band’s Dara Kiely.
Despite its agitated, twisting nature, the record reveals a surprising, softer side. Tracks like “Shoplifting” and “200 Bottles On Eviction” feature plaintive choruses backed by sustained organs, while the ecstatic “Jackpot” concludes with Kaser singing dejectedly about “those feelings you swallow down.” These flashes of yearning prevent the album from devolving into mere wackiness, providing it with genuine depth.
There is also a poignant romantic thread running through the album. On “Two Lucks,” Kaser cries, “You are the hell that I made for myself,” blending his themes of theft with the pain of unfulfilling relationships. He leaves the listener to wonder: are these relationships a form of theft, stealing time and self-worth? The record is best approached as an impressionistic work that rewards the questions it stirs, rather than a puzzle demanding a solution. Its knotted discussions of agency and morality take a backseat to how alive its characters feel in this illicitly exciting world.
Editor’s note: This review was initially published at 12:00 a.m. with the score reading 0.0. This was an error, and was republished with the correct score at 1:53 a.m. We regret the confusion.