Some debut albums feel like introductions. Others feel like declarations. Sleeping Fits, the self-titled full-length from Matt Chabe’s indie and alt-rock project, lands firmly in the second category. Released on October 31, 2025, and written and recorded just outside Guadalajara, Mexico, the album’s ten tracks channel a lifetime of influences into something jagged, gritty, melodic, unpredictable, and unmistakably alive. This is a record that smells of dust and old amps, hums with desert heat, and carries the bruised charm of DIY rock at its most fearless.
Chabe, originally from Bangor, Maine, approaches Sleeping Fits with a clear artistic compass. He draws from the swaggering distortion of desert rock, the fearless eccentricity of art rock, and the satisfying shine of pop-rock melody. But the way he blends these ingredients is what makes the album stand out. It is unpolished on purpose. Recorded with B-grade gear, sometimes even broken gear, in an untreated room, the album carries the fingerprints of the process. It shudders with noise, breathes between takes, and lets imperfections become character. It’s as close as modern rock gets to a living organism.
The album kicks off with Crystal Lizard (Was Gonna Be the Name of This Band), a title as offbeat as the track itself. It’s a fuzz-coated opener with desert-rock heft, referencing the cracked spirit of Dust Bowl spaces and a sly nod for gamers who catch the Dark Souls connection. The riffs hit with grimy precision, while Chabe’s melodic instincts carve through the dust like a flare. Instantly, you’re pulled into his world: loud, strange, addictive, and soaked in a humor that masks something more serious.
I Feel Fine, one of the pre-release singles, delivers the first earworm punch. It’s tight, energetic, and deceptively upbeat, disguising existential unease with a melody you’ll hum long after hearing it. Chabe’s understanding of pop-rock hooks becomes undeniable here. Even amid the grit, he can’t resist writing choruses that demand to be remembered.
The album takes a darker turn with Afraid of the Dark, a track tackling digital disconnection masked as hyper-connection. Chabe explores the eeriness of modern relationships shaped by glowing screens and algorithmic intimacy. Instead of lecturing, he frames the internet age as something mythical, fragile, and frightening, giving the song both emotional weight and philosophical bite.
Abandon Ship! picks up the tempo with a wry look at collapsing structures, both institutional and personal. Through jagged riffs and a propulsive beat, Chabe examines trust, failure, and the bittersweet freedom that comes from walking away. It’s one of the album’s rowdiest tracks, with a chaotic, cathartic energy that echoes the best of Queens of the Stone Age.
Then there’s We’re All Fucking Connected, a standout in both theme and execution. Chabe confronts the paradox of modern society: billions of people, endless communication, and a deeper sense of loneliness than ever before. Instead of wallowing, he presents the idea with blunt honesty and a groove that feels like a rallying cry. It’s equal parts frustration and hope.
The new single If I Wore Any / Leftenant adds another layer to the album’s eclectic nature. Built around wiry riffs and an explosive vocal performance, the track showcases Chabe’s ability to experiment without losing cohesion. It marks a transition point in the album, opening a doorway to its more angular, art-rock side.
Soneto de la catástrofe feels like an interlude from a fever dream. Layering cryptic lyrics with tense instrumentation, it becomes one of the album’s most intriguing pieces. The title alone sets expectations, and the track delivers on that promise of catastrophe with elegance and intensity.
Anti-Fashion, another pre-release single, drips with attitude. It’s a commentary on trends, identities, and the exhausting performance of modern life. Chabe’s delivery is sharp and sly, and the guitar work hits with a swagger that feels both classic and contemporary. This is where the rawness of the album truly becomes an asset: the noise makes the message stronger.
Then comes The Kissing Disease, perhaps the most melodic track on the record. There’s an infectious quality to it that recalls the more emotional corners of early 2000s alt-rock. It’s catchy, energetic, and tinged with longing, balancing the heavier themes elsewhere on the album.
The closer, Sylphide, is a surprising and beautiful finale. Ethereal yet grounded, it showcases Chabe’s ability to switch moods without losing artistic cohesion. The track drifts between introspection and tension, offering a graceful landing after an album full of sharp edges.
Behind all this, Chabe’s artistic philosophy becomes clear. He refuses perfection. He rejects polish. He pushes for something that feels lived-in, flawed, warm, human. His lyrics are shaped by the climate of 2023 and 2024, especially the U.S. election cycle, but instead of narrowly political songs, he builds wide metaphors. Every track becomes a lens for examining connection, disconnection, trust, fear, and the bizarre ways society repeats its own worst habits.
Sleeping Fits is a debut that refuses to behave like one. Chabe’s years leading bands in Maine — Marathon Man, Bangtown Timebomb, Bad Island — sharpened his instincts, and here, he channels all of it into a record that feels restless, curious, and fiercely individual. He’s already writing the next album, promising tighter riffs and even more dangerous hooks, but this first chapter stands strong on its own.
Sleeping Fits is loud, crooked, catchy, messy, and honest. It’s rock music built like a living creature, carrying its scars and refusing to hide them. And in a world obsessed with flawlessness, that kind of honesty feels deeply refreshing.
