Throw out any preconceived idea of what chaotic music is supposed to sound like—Taja’s Discard Every Ounce of Who I Am doesn’t just challenge those expectations, it tears straight through them. This isn’t a debut that feels carefully assembled or overly considered. It plays out more like an emotional purge happening in real time, messy and volatile in a way that feels almost confrontational. At times it borders on overwhelming, but that sense of instability is exactly what gives the EP its identity. Rather than smoothing out its edges, Taja leans into abrasion and vulnerability equally, letting both exist without compromise.

“hate song” sets the tone immediately, opening with a slow, uneasy build that feels like it’s constantly on the verge of collapse. There’s a deliberate awkwardness to how it moves, lurching forward before snapping into something far more frantic. When the track finally breaks open, it does so with chaotic intent—riffs that feel jagged and unstable, bass that lands with blunt force, and drums that erupt in bursts rather than settling into anything predictable. That “janky” quality becomes a strength, giving the song a raw unpredictability that feels completely unfiltered. The vocals push it even further, shifting between piercing fry screams and deeper guttural tones, all coated in a grimy, unpolished texture that refuses to be cleaned up. It’s abrasive by design, with dissonance woven into the instrumentation in a way that heightens tension instead of resolving it.

That tension carries directly into “a divine cleansing,” though here it feels more focused without losing its anxiety. The pacing remains deliberate at first, anchored by slow, grinding riffs and heavy, deliberate drumming, but the structure tightens as the track unfolds. Vocals cut in and out almost erratically, like fragments of thought interrupting each other mid-spiral. The production leans heavily into blown-out bass and a suffocating density, creating an atmosphere that feels claustrophobic without becoming muddy. There’s also a subtle sense of nostalgia buried in its rough edges, reminiscent of early DIY recordings where imperfections weren’t just present—they were essential to the experience. Beneath the chaos, there’s a groove holding everything together, giving the track just enough stability to keep it from completely unraveling.

“10,000 angels” is where the EP fully embraces its contradictions. On paper, the blend of styles—death metal weight, grindcore intensity, emo sensibility, flashes of skramz and metalcore—should feel disjointed. Instead, it flows with surprising cohesion. The drums land with a heavy, almost muffled impact, while the bass introduces a subtle funkiness that cuts through the density in unexpected ways. The guitars feel more expansive here, stretching beyond pure aggression into something more expressive and dynamic. Production-wise, it’s the most layered moment on the EP, nearly suffocating in its density, yet still allowing small details to surface. The snap of the snare, the buried clean vocals drenched in reverb—these elements don’t provide relief so much as they deepen the emotional complexity, like distant thoughts breaking through an otherwise overwhelming noise.

What ultimately ties Discard Every Ounce of Who I Am together is its refusal to sanitize anything. The rough production, the blown-out low end, the erratic pacing—none of it feels accidental or underdeveloped. Instead, it reads as a deliberate aesthetic choice, one that mirrors the EP’s themes of inner conflict and self-erasure. It’s not trying to be an easy listen, and it never pretends to be. The tension between chaos and control, between structure and collapse, is where the project finds its footing.

For all its abrasiveness, there’s a clear sense of intention running underneath the surface. The songwriting might initially feel scattered, but there’s a consistent emotional thread binding everything together. That balance—between raw, unfiltered expression and an underlying sense of cohesion—is what allows the EP to land as something more than just an experiment. It feels like a statement, even if it’s one that’s still being actively shaped in the moment.