TOTEM, the first new album from Virginia's Pygmy Lush in 14 years. Like their previous output, it was recorded and mixed by longtime friend and collaborator of the band, Kurt Ballou, at GodCity Studio in Massachusetts in April 2016. And as with their other three full lengths, Pygmy Lush — the band sworn to never break up, only take breaks — is readily recognizable here: a bit different, and a bit the same. Unlike their earlier work though, TOTEM sat (or stood, fully formed and erect) complete, yet unheard — unreleased, “shelved” or “lost” — until now.

As sure as you can’t unring a bell, the album’s 11 songs are no less than eight years old, but couldn’t be unmade short of direct and total cataclysm. If you already know Pygmy Lush and their modus operandi over these last two decades, you already know to check your baggage and leave all expectations behind. When others zig, Pygmy Lush zag. When the show is loud, Pygmy Lush are quiet. And so it goes. TOTEM is no exception, but also stands alone within the band's body of work, a monolithic sum of its Pygmy Lush parts. 

The Taylor brothers, Mike and Chris, are here, as is Pygmy Lush mainstay Mike Widman. You won’t find Johnny Ward this go around, but life partners and rhythm section extraordinaires Andy Gale and Erin McCarley are crucial new tiers among the seismic sonic and cosmic shifts coursing through TOTEM’s roughly 40 minute — epic yet direct — running time. 

The result is a heavy rock album that’s actually aware of the 21st century: all-at-once comfortable with its punk rock, noise rock and art rock roots. It’s a grunge stunt pedigree, signaling the puddles of drool pooling around snooze gaze contemporaries and an altogether beat hardcore flock.

Chris Taylor’s melodic bark hasn’t been this nimble since his post-Pageninetynine output with Malady, while the Mike’s — Taylor and Widman — dish out a heady maelstrom of strings on par with Moore and Renaldo’s finest foundational moves. Similarly, Erin McCarley’s low-end verve and rationed vocals are transcendent; unmistakably her own while of a piece with the band. Andy Gale can and does beat the shit outta his kit here: disciplined and certain. There’s no rules, just right. 

Matching its expansive sonics and lacerating lyrical content, TOTEM is also a feast for your eyes, compliments of new sculptural artwork designed by Paul Nitsche, whose epic pieces have graced past work for Dazzling Killmen and Andrew Bird. This gorgeous album design includes a foldout poster with collaged lyrics. 

Following an unexpected return to live performance in late 2024 with their memorable set on NPR's Tiny Desk, then their international debut at Roadburn Festival in the Netherlands, Pygmy Lush have resumed their eternal whirr full force. Whether you’ve been saving a place at home for TOTEM, on your shelves alongside their Bitter River, Mount Hope and Old Friends albums, or, this is the very first piece to construct your own personal Pygmy Lush puzzle, the band and this album’s timeline are a “Nonsensical Whisper” that continues to rip and roar. The sound is immortal, and these tunes are as vital now as their first time ringing out. Tell your grandkids it’s Nirvana, or Born Against, or Document 13 and a half.