Korean indie garage rock is often defined by lo-fi charm, jangly guitars, and introspective melancholy — but Peach Truck Hijackers don’t just step outside the mold; they smash straight through it. Their self-titled debut is a fuzz-drenched, bass-forward statement that feels loud, confident, and bursting with unruly personality. It’s the kind of debut that doesn’t simply introduce a band — it plants a flag.

What immediately distinguishes this album is how the bass becomes the true lead instrument. Instead of hiding under guitar layers, it commands every song with a thick, distorted presence that borders on stoner-doom, yet still sits comfortably inside a garage rock frame. The opening track, Compressed Annoyance, makes this clear within seconds: the bass roars in like an engine starting, gritty and overdriven, while high-tuned guitar lines slice above it like static electricity. It creates a tension that’s both heavy and strangely buoyant. Over this storm, her vocals glide coolly — an effortless mix of 90s alt-rock attitude and understated charm. Even when the guitars devolve into eerie, melting distortion near the end, the band never loses control. The chaos feels intentional, almost sculpted.

The momentum kicks up with Radio Radio, where the drums take on a sprint-like urgency. Even with the faster tempo, the bass keeps its thick, authoritative stomp, anchoring the track while her vocals remain bright and catchy. It’s one of the cleanest rock songs on the album, and it shows how easily the band can shift gears without losing their fuzz-coated identity.

When Rubbish arrives, the guitars finally take the spotlight, slicing sharper than before and giving the album an injection of high-octane adrenaline. Her slightly huskier vocal tone adds grit, while the hypnotic, deep-rumbling drums give the song a primal pulse. It’s here that Peach Truck Hijackers prove they can be loud and chaotic and controlled and stylish at the same time.

Then comes Fuck You, a gleefully unhinged display of the band’s mischief. The punk snarl, the playful twang, the repetition of the title shouted like a dare — the song is childish, bratty, messy, and completely irresistible. Even in moments where the song thins out, the bass swoops back in like a tidal wave, refusing to let the momentum die.

One of the most striking elements of the album is how natural and expressive the band sounds in Korean. On 뒤틀린 입이라도, her vocals feel commanding yet slightly dragging in a hypnotic, magnetic way. The deep, fizzy bass pairs beautifully with warm, mid-2000s style indie drums. The song radiates a tactile, lived-in warmth that highlights the band’s emotional nuance.

Tracks like What Am I To Do and From Your Dead Body lean harder into 90s alternative rock influences — shades of Nirvana’s grit, Pearl Jam’s melancholy, Alice In Chains’ heaviness, and even hints of Alanis Morissette’s expressive vocal glide. The buzzing bass lines, the bright yet dusty guitars, the slow-burning choruses — everything feels nostalgic without ever becoming a copy. It’s inspiration filtered through personality.

The album then drifts into dreamlike territory with Wrong Bus Adventure, a tender, strange, beautiful detour. Softer vocals (likely from another member), gently strummed guitars, and warbling synths create an atmosphere that feels like half a dream and half a late-night bus ride home. It’s one of the most distinctive tracks on the record — and one of the most emotionally resonant.

Two Songs lives up to its name by feeling like a song split in half: it starts with distant, distorted riffs before abruptly shifting into a slow, shoegaze-tinted second half filled with soft vocals and reverb-soaked warmth. The transition is jarring, but intentionally so — the emotional payoff when it settles down is massive.

Finally, Dreamgazi brings the album to a gentle landing. The deep bass returns, softer this time, and the airy guitar lines create a peaceful glow. Her vocals sound weary but accepting, giving the album a bittersweet closure. The shoegaze haze, the warm distortion, and the quiet sadness make it a perfect ending — like sunlight fading through a dusty window.

Peach Truck Hijackers’ debut is fuzzy, raw, atmospheric, and full of personality. The bass dominates in a way few indie bands dare to attempt, the vocals shine in both English and Korean, and the group’s blend of garage rock grit, stoner-doom weight, indie-rock charm, and 90s nostalgia creates a sound that’s unmistakably theirs.

It’s not just a debut with potential —
it’s a debut with identity.
And in a scene crowded with soundalikes, that’s genuinely rare.