Who the hell loves the sun?

After how much I loved Cool World, I went into Chat Pile's Who Loves the Sun expecting another miserable trip through whatever hellscape Raygun Busch and the rest of the Oklahoma City quartet had cooked up this time. Instead, the album initially feels a little different before gradually revealing itself as another deeply fucked-up Chat Pile record. The band still sound ugly, oppressive, and completely uninterested in making the world feel better, but there is noticeably more melody and groove woven into the mess. The guitars aren't constantly trying to rip your face off, the songs have more identifiable hooks, and some of the softer moments are surprisingly beautiful. The result is still bleak, but there is considerably more contrast than I expected.

“Creature” introduces that shift from a low, ominous place. Deep drums and slow bass establish the foundation before the guitars creep into the arrangement, while Busch's vocals initially sound sad and almost conversational. As the song becomes more aggressive, the bass gives it that physical Chat Pile weight, while the guitars occasionally drift into ringing, almost church-like territory. It's heavy, but there is genuine songwriting underneath the sludge and noise-rock grime. “Deep Blue” makes the melodic side even more obvious, with sharper guitar tones, clearer vocals, and a deep, melancholy pulse driven by the bass. The song is relatively simple, but that simplicity works because Chat Pile have learned how much impact they can get from a strong hook.

“Same Rules” continues that idea through a slower, washed-out presentation that feels almost detached from reality. The trip-hop-like pulse and restrained guitars create a strange combination of relaxation and discomfort, with repetition becoming the main source of tension. “PEN I S MALL” then brings the weight back through deeper bass, harsher guitar work, and a more confrontational vocal performance. The riffs are ugly and blunt, but enough rhythmic movement remains underneath them to stop the song from becoming another basic sludge crawl.

“Shrine” demonstrates just how much Chat Pile have expanded their palette without losing their identity. The guitars remain abrasive, but the arrangement is more reflective than destructive, with enormous bass and slow, hypnotic drums creating tension without immediately resolving it. When the heavier sections finally emerge, they hit harder because the band has spent so much time holding back. That patience is one of the most noticeable improvements here. Then “Intruder” completely changes the mood with a funky bassline, strange upbeat percussion, and ghostly guitars. Busch's washed-out vocals make the whole thing feel slightly unreal, and the groove is almost catchy in a way that feels wrong considering how dark everything around it remains.

“Christabel '26” brings the violence back with enormous low end, heavy drums, and much more aggressive guitars. The riffs are slow and deliberate, but there is still a sense of panic underneath them. Busch sounds completely unhinged in places, and that contrast between controlled instrumentation and vocal desperation makes the track especially effective. “Influence” pushes the tempo forward and gives the album one of its more traditionally structured songs. Faster drums, a stronger groove, and more prominent guitars make the arrangement easier to follow, but Chat Pile still sound unmistakably like themselves. The song proves they can be straightforward without becoming ordinary.

“Family Funeral” slows things down again, using a huge, roomy bass-and-drum foundation while the guitars gradually creep into the arrangement. Busch gets more space to work with, and when the harsher vocals arrive, they feel more like emotional ruptures than conventional heavy-music performances. There is something strangely cathartic about the song because it sounds less like pure anger and more like exhaustion. Then “October All the Time” completely flips the album on its head. Acoustic guitars and soft layered vocals suddenly make Chat Pile sound almost gentle. The shift could have felt gimmicky, but the song carries its own sadness, and when the bass and drums eventually return, the heaviness feels less crushing and almost comforting.

That contrast is probably what separates Who Loves the Sun most clearly from Cool World. The earlier album felt like being dropped into a toxic environment and left there. This one still shows you that environment, but occasionally lets you look out a window. The darkness remains, but there are melodies, grooves, softer vocals, and moments where the band sound almost beautiful. The bass remains absolutely central throughout, whether it's the weight of “Creature,” the hypnotic movement of “Deep Blue,” the funky pulse of “Intruder,” or the huge foundation underneath “Family Funeral.” Stin's playing often functions as a melody rather than simply reinforcing the guitars, which gives the quieter passages just as much personality as the heavy ones.

The guitars are less consistently abrasive than on Cool World, and I actually think that's one of the album's strengths. They have more room to become melodic, twangy, dissonant, or atmospheric depending on what each song needs. The drums are similarly effective, moving between deep, hollow patterns and faster sections without constantly demanding attention. The production keeps everything dense without burying it in distortion, giving the bass plenty of weight while allowing the guitars and drums enough separation to remain physical.

Busch's vocals remain one of Chat Pile's biggest strengths. He can sound detached, sad, creepy, furious, exhausted, or completely fucking possessed without falling into a generic sludge-metal performance. The clearer moments make the harsher ones hit even harder because the album creates more space between those extremes. That same contrast is at the heart of the songwriting. Chat Pile are clearly becoming more interested in hooks without sacrificing the uncomfortable qualities that made them compelling. “Same Rules” can get stuck in your head, “Intruder” has an almost bizarre groove, “Deep Blue” is genuinely melodic, and “October All the Time” is unexpectedly beautiful, yet none of them sound like they belong to another band.

That's the trick: Chat Pile are becoming more accessible without becoming comfortable. Who Loves the Sun still sounds like a record about a society that's fucking falling apart, but the band seem increasingly interested in what it feels like to become numb to that collapse. Technology, work, social decay, environmental anxiety, and the general exhaustion of living through an increasingly absurd world all seem to hang around the edges of these songs.

There's a strange irony in the title because this isn't exactly a sunny album. But “October All the Time” gives you the answer. Maybe the point isn't whether the world is good. Maybe the point is that the sun is going to keep coming up anyway. That's an unexpectedly hopeful thought for Chat Pile, and somehow they manage to make it feel unsettling.

Who Loves the Sun doesn't replace what made Cool World so powerful. It expands it. Chat Pile are still capable of making music that feels physically oppressive, but they're now just as interested in melody, groove, and emotional contrast. The record feels more human without becoming any less ugly, and that's a difficult balance to pull off. Somehow, Chat Pile pull it off.