I first saw Pittsburgh’s Lawn Care passing through my local coffeehouse venue. They played a “stripped” set that included two guitars, a bass guitar, and a trumpet. And even in such a minimalist context, they were absolutely hypnotizing.

So when I caught them playing as a full band, I was entranced. I had to have the record.

And thankfully, Replacement Therapy is as aggressively attention-catching as the live show.

Lead singer Cameron LeViere spits out his lyrics in rapidfire, his wit-drenched words as sharp as weapons. He is endearingly self-deprecating in a way that is all too relatable.

“My stomach is full of terrible things, Like coffee, McDonald’s, and amphetamines.” Or, “Let’s see how much potential we can waste / Waking up at 4 PM we’re drunk as fuck by 8 / Relationships we’re slacking on / A constant sense that something’s wrong / I never get a damn thing done / Just promise me we’re having fun.” Or my favorite, “The road to Hell is paved with Taco Bell and Mountain Dew.”

His defeatist, perma-adolescent words are accompanied by a chaotic mix of genres that defies easy categorization. Rhythms turn on a dime, trumpets burst through the cacophony, gang vocals echo LeViere in agreement. There are flashes of indie rock, math rock, punk, and ska, without belonging wholly to any of them. They describe themselves as, “Kinda-mathy, sorta-punk,” and call themselves “the Microsoft Excel of DIY,” whatever that means.

You could probably use this as an argument that we’re now in a post-genre musical landscape, and today’s artists are reaching to the wide diversity of music they listened to as kids.

But despite whatever labels you want to toss on the record, what matters is that this is a great record. A sharp snapshot of the self-doubt, anxiety, and irreverence that comes with being a Millennial twenty-to-thirty-something.