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The Sounding Board

Bug Teeth's debut offers plenty to chew on

A weekly column where New Music Tuesdays live on. Conversation is encouraged in the comments.

Microphagia

Every Tuesday, the Sounding Board is a space for a short-ish review of a recent-ish release and conversations about new-to-you music. I’ll get things started with a write-up about a newer, likely under-heard album, and invite you to share your music musings in the comments.

I did not expect this column to have such an entomological bent, but with roach-like persistence, bugs have become a frequent Sounding Board presence. 

This year started with the quirky and catchy Bugs Forever by Gumshoes. Hornet Disaster by Weatherday, released in spring, stands among the best albums reviewed this year in this space. The Bug Club’s cutesy coed indie pop songs wormed their way into my heavy rotation over the summer. Just this weekend, “Flies” by Cheekface, a standout track from the band’s extremely fun but under-the-radar album Middle Spoon, was the aural caffeine I needed to get out and shoot photos of the sunrise.1 All of that ensures that any forthcoming year-end wrap-up will feature a veritable swarm. 

Maybe there’s a deeper reason I’m drawn to bug-named projects like a moth to flame. Are world events driving it, like some singular version of the theory that public preoccupation with zombies or vampires is tied to economic trends? Perhaps a cocaine-sniffing Austrian would tell me it all goes back to a love for the Beatles passed down to me by my parents. It’s distinctly possible my personal unconsciousness has ants. I haven’t checked it for crumbs in ages.2 Of course, there could be no hivemind at work. It could just be a creepy-crawly coincidence that arthropods and nematodes have inspired so much good music in 2025. 

Whether the trend is real or imagined, it’s been extended because I’ve now spent hours orbiting the slightly alien world of Bug Teeth’s Microphagia.3 While it’s a grief-stricken planet, it’s also a pleasant, often weightless place that nevertheless has enough gravity to keep listeners from totally floating away over the course of its 10 songs. 

Microphagia is the long-gestating debut album for Bug Teeth, who hail from Leeds, England. Bug Teeth began the better part of a decade ago as a solo project for front-person PJ Johnson. The band is now a quintet consisting of Sonny Mitchell (guitar, cello), George Orton (drums, sampler), Alex Calder (synthesizer), and Adam Bentham (bass). Johnson’s voice is often the single most attention-grabbing element on any given Bug Teeth album, and the death of their mother gives Microphagia its grieving core. Still, there’s a sense of complexity and collaboration in the music that marks it as a true group project. 

Years of tinkering and growth have yielded an album that slooshes with perplexing viscosity between the borders of bedroom pop, shoegaze, electronic ambience and smooth jazz. Bug Teeth’s music is decidedly more interesting than it is immediate. Ethereal, somnolent, spacy, hazy and warm are the LP’s watchwords. Cocteau Twins and Brian Eno are clear influences. Modern-day Beth Orton4 and the heavy-lidded moments on yeule albums are two reasonable comparators.

Once, as a boy, I went swimming in a relative’s heated pool that had been allowed to warm up well past conventional swimming temperatures. It was still cooler than a standard hot tub, but the water was easily in excess of 90 degrees. Even as I treaded water, I could feel my muscles loosening, the warm water persuading my body to relax. It was surreal to be in the middle of a tranquil expanse of warmth while also being aware that danger waited if I stopped expending effort and let myself sink. It was an odd, but not unpleasant, sensation.

Listening to Microphagia reminds me so much of that experience. Its near-narcotic buoyancy is nearly a dare to give up on active, thoughtful listening, but Bug Teeth are good about tossing an occasional life preserver. The shoegaze crunch and subterranean bass that infiltrate the last 90 seconds of “Ammonite,” the group vocals that breathe energetic life into “Warp & Weft II,” and the way the Western vista of “Collections” subsumes complex plucking sounds that could have easily been a short detour all provide ample surface-level thrills. It’s more than enough encouragement to kick through the more album’s more formless and anodyne stretches.

  1. My cromulent-to-OK nature photography lives on Flickr, which not only still exists but seems to be a mostly positive community of photography nerds who want a place that isn’t Instagram to post their photos. ↩︎
  2. Once upon a time, the “Dead Philosophers in Heaven” webcomic was very important to me. ↩︎
  3. Released November 21, 2025, on the entirely too cool State 51 label. ↩︎
  4. From what I can gather, no relation to Bug Teeth’s drummer. ↩︎