The Calgary-based indie project could have made a whole album like this, but that’s just not Raleigh’s way. This band loves to follow its curiosity, jumping from the dark pop hooks of “Bridges” to the more electronic, dance-rock pulse of “USA.” That freedom gives Fate Is Criminal a bit of a sonic identity crisis—but to its benefit. Both Anaïs and Geiger take turns on lead vocals, adding to the dreamlike, unpredictable mix.

Following “Lost Desire,” the jumpy, anxious groove of “By Ourselves” blends beautifully with the album’s surreal opening energy, while “Pendulum,” with its hazy instrumentation and Anaïs’ otherworldly voice, adds a gothic edge. Near the end, “Stranger Strangers” returns to that infectious indie-pop feel—you’re still in the dream, but this time, you’re dancing with the ghostly rabbit.

Fate Is Criminal feels like it unfolds in cinematic scenes—each track has its own landscape but fits into a larger emotional arc. What were some of the ideas guiding you while writing or recording this album? And who did the cover art?

Clea: I don’t think we went into it thinking the whole album would be a concept piece, but there were shared things we cared about while creating “Fate is Criminal.” We wanted to take the time to really explore sounds, how they made you feel, and how we were making them. Sometimes this was organic, like frying food to get the right popping sound, or listening to cars drive by on wet pavement. Sometimes this was trying out new gear, a special experience at the Bathouse Studio. As songwriters, it has always been more than having a four on the floor behind some lyrics, it was important to bring the listener into the scene where the singer is. So in “Pendulum” hopefully you feel like you are in a film noir on a dark New York street at 3am, or in “By Ourselves” you are driving down a desert highway sitting next to Hunter S.Thompson.

Brock: The record cover is done by Bryan Olson, a collage artist based in Portland. I saw a piece he did for Wired years ago and have been really into his work ever since. We worked with him for this and our last record, Powerhouse Bloom.

The album was recorded at the Bathouse with Nyles Spencer. What did that collaboration open up for you creatively?

Brock: Nyles is one of the most authentic, creative people I know. This was the second record we worked on together, so the dynamic in the studio was very comfortable and fluid. Our stint at the Bathouse for these sessions felt like a Lynch-like dream. More than any other record I’ve been a part of, this was the result of a band being all in, for the whole time. It was one of those sessions that found a strange and magical flow where we were just creating non-stop, often deep into the night. We actually had to end the session a couple days short because Nyles had to seek medical attention for self-induced whiplash from headbanging too hard at the console.

There’s a clear thread of tension and tenderness in songs like “Bridges” and “Lost Desire.” How do you navigate that balance between intimacy and grandeur?

Clea: A lot of intimate storytelling happens on this record, and often the songs touch on serious topics. Still, there is hopefully a feeling of relatability in these songs, so it feels like your best friend is sharing their secret with you. In that way intimacy might be created sonically with the treatment of a close vocal. Ideally, the listener should feel on the journey with the character as their story unfolds, so they are invested when a big musical or narrative moment arrives. As much as the record is a sonic exploration, I hope that doesn’t make it alienating, the arrangements are chosen to evoke feeling, and the songwriting comes from a genuine place.