Ecca Vandal’s Looking for People to Unfollow, which drops May 22, 2026 via Loma Vista Recordings, is a raw, unapologetic 17-track statement that captures the Sri Lankan Tamil–Australian artist at her most vulnerable and volatile. Recorded DIY-style in a childhood bedroom/garage with collaborator Richie Buxton (credited as Kid Not in some contexts), the album clocks in at a brisk runtime that feels both frantic and intentional. It’s less a polished product than a cathartic purge—messy, noisy, and deeply personal.
Vandal has always blurred genres, drawing from her jazz-trained roots, punk upbringing in Melbourne’s DIY scene, hip-hop attitude, and experimental edges. Here, those influences collide with newfound focus. The central theme—subtraction, shedding toxic systems, trends, and digital illusions of connection—threads through the project. Tracks like the explosive “Sorry! Crash!” deliver guttural scream-singing over chaotic riffs, while “Molly” and “Cruising to Self Soothe” showcase her staggering vocal range, swinging from soulful melodies to unhinged yelps in seconds. “Bleed But Never Die” and “Airplane Mode” pulse with electronic grit and punk urgency, refusing to let the listener settle.
What makes the record compelling is its honesty. Vandal has described it as her most exposed work, created during a period of deliberate disconnection. The short, sharp songs mirror the scattershot nature of modern attention: dopamine hits, digital burnout, and the quiet power of saying “no.” Production stays lo-fi and immediate, embracing imperfections that heighten the emotional stakes rather than smoothing them over. Moments of levity and melody (“Okay Not to be Okay,” the title track) provide breathing room amid the mayhem, echoing influences from Nina Simone’s emotional depth to Fugazi’s righteous noise.
As a follow-up to her acclaimed 2017 self-titled debut, Looking for People to Unfollow feels like evolution through reduction. Vandal’s live reputation for high-energy chaos translates vividly to tape, but the real triumph is the thematic clarity: empowerment through boundaries. It’s loud, confrontational, and occasionally exhausting in the best way—demanding you engage fully or step back.
At its core, this is an album about reclaiming space in an oversaturated world. Ecca Vandal doesn’t just invite you to unfollow the noise—she hands you the block button. Bold, genre-defying, and fiercely human, it’s one of 2026’s most vital punk-adjacent releases.