Victims of the New Math Make The Stories That You Weave Feel Like a Box of Old Tapes With Fresh Batteries

Victims of the New Math’s The Stories That You Weave opens with “The Run Up,” and the album starts like somebody shoving a blown-out amp into the room. A filtered distorted guitar fills the spectrum, heavy and fried, before the sample appears. It is a rough opening, but useful: it tells the record where the dust is going to come from.

Victims of the New Math is Thomas Young, writing and recording his home-grown indie and lo-fi rock after years of releases under the name. The project started as a duo with his brother Joe, chasing the AM rock sounds of childhood, and that old-radio memory still runs through this album. The songs have guitars, percussion, bass, keyboards, drums, samples, and a loose vintage glow, but they do not sound frozen in nostalgia. They sound handled, bent, taped over, then played again.

“You’re a Star” brings a nostalgic vocal tint over guitars and sharp, quiet percussion. It has the feel of a small song trying to act casual about a bigger ache. “Only in My Dreams” leans into indie rock with vocals, guitar, percussion, and what sounds like hand-played percussion tucked somewhere in the rhythm. The track has a room feel, the kind that makes the recording feel touched by actual hands.

“Be What You Want” moves with a motivational streak. The snare is thick, the bass gives the song a pleasant feel-good lift, and the lead guitar in the background has a screamy quality, filtered into an old-radio tone. “Time Flies” slows the album down with a romantic tint in the vocal, guitar and percussion at the front, then a catchy synth part appearing in the middle before a processed guitar lead takes over. The playing is soft but still heavy in texture, like a memory made louder after the fact.

The album’s themes, fame fading, love, loss, and staying positive in a difficult world, fit the sound. These songs do not clean themselves up for neat emotional lessons. They work through fuzz, melody, old pop instincts, garage-rock bite, and lo-fi warmth. Todd Tobias’ mastering gives the record fullness, but the charm still comes from Young’s own handmade world: catchy, strange, scuffed, and alive.

Sync fit: indie film montage, coming-of-age scene, retro road sequence, bittersweet TV ending, garage-band character moment.


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