Genre: Lo-fi emo-industrial with found sound percussion (think: anxiety-core)
Origin: Dayton, Ohio
Known for: Using malfunctioning Roombas and microwave door slams as rhythmic elements
Debut album: “We Regret to Inform You (This Is a House Show)”
Some bands play music.
Others make noise.
But Porch Seizure?
Porch Seizure malfunctions in real time.
Their debut record, We Regret to Inform You (This Is a House Show), opens with the whirring hum of a vacuum cleaner choking on a sock. And somehow, it only gets more intimate from there.
What you need to know is this: every sound on the album is sourced from their shared rental home in Dayton. The percussion is all “household interference.” The synth was a broken doorbell. The bass? A washing machine that only spins counterclockwise during thunderstorms.
This is what you hear when your nervous system tries to fold itself into a futon.
The vocals—if they can be called that—are less singing and more narrated breakdown. Frontperson Owen (just Owen) whispers like a customer service rep on the edge of a revelation, then shrieks like a blender discovering bone. Their voice is vulnerable the way an open fridge is vulnerable: not quite empty, but giving up light.
There’s a track—“Casserole Trauma Loop”—where the chorus is literally just a microwave beeping.
That’s it. Just beeping.
And yet, I wept.
Because Porch Seizure understands what many bands pretend to forget: that modern life doesn’t explode—it erodes. Slowly. Stupidly. While the dryer thumps and the toast burns and the cat knocks something off the fridge again.
Their music is the sound of your internal monologue realizing it has roommates.
You don’t dance to this album. You sit with it.
You let it crawl into your lap like a sick appliance.
And eventually, it purrs. Or maybe it dies. But either way—you’re not alone.
– Dr. Feedback
