From the very first track of Fish, it’s clear that ShitKid isn’t interested in glitzy production or playing it safe. Swedish artist Åsa Söderqvist (the brain behind ShitKid) delivers a debut that is feral, raw, playful and defiantly singular. The lo-fi approach — recorded on a laptop, GarageBand and minimal studio gloss — immediately sets the tone: edgy, intimate, and a little ragged around the edges.

Musically, Fish blends garage-punk riffs, whispery synths, drum-machine beats and vocal deliveries that range from detached cool to expressive sprawl. Tracks like “Tropics” and “Two Motorbikes” evoke a kind of reckless freedom (“Drive fast, that’s immortality,” Söderqvist sneers). Yet the album doesn’t simply shout punk anthems: there are moments of vulnerability, odd textures and off-kilter melodies that hint at something more exploratory. As one review put it, the record sounds “as if it’s been filtered through a musty old mattress.”

Lyrically, Fish doesn’t shy away from teenage ennui, holiday romance, boredom, desire and existential shrugging. On “On a Saturday Night at Home” we hear the longing for simpler pleasures; on “Never Seen a Girl Like Me” the frustration of being misunderstood and undervalued. The combination of matter-of-fact delivery and unpredictable sonic choices gives the album its uneasy charm: you’re never quite sure if you’re listening to a lullaby, a punk track or a dirty electro number — and that ambiguity is part of its appeal.

That said, Fish isn’t without its missteps. Some critics argue that the very adventurousness of its aesthetic means a few songs don’t quite land; the mixing of styles sometimes feels unfocused rather than visionary. But precisely that willingness to embrace messy edges makes the album compelling. If you’re after slick pop or radio-ready polish, this probably isn’t it. But if you want something bristling with personality, stubborn in its DIY roots and full of off-beat songwriting, Fish delivers.