Gash Release "holiday time," Final Advance Single From New Album Out This Friday via Angel Tapes / Fire Talk
This Friday, gash will release their new album and label debut, at least you know what you’re laughing at, via Fire Talk’s emerging artists imprint Angel Tapes. Today, the Eau Claire experimentalists unveil its final advance single, “holiday time.” at least you know what you’re laughing at presents the most holistic version of gash — following years of sporadic releases that act as compilations of the band’s loose artifacts — and reveals itself to be a collage of confessions which offer intimacy at arm’s length. “holiday time” begins with pitch-shifted vocals and skeletal instrumentation, capturing the freewheeling energy which has made gash one of the most exciting bands in the midwest’s DIY scene.
gash began as an outlet for founding member Logan Nyberg, and quickly expended to its current lineup including Mitchell Smuhl (guitar), Eric Simmons (drums), Richy Christensen (bass/keys), and Breckelle Bathke (vocals/guitar/percussion). Through countless performances — often at Nyberg’s own home DIY venue — gash garnered a reputation for cathartic underground sets, and gathered supporters including Bon Iver, who declared gash as Eau Claire’s “great export” and tapped the band for the return of his Eaux Claires Festival earlier this summer. Anchored by Nyberg’s honed confidence as a producer, as well as the band’s years spent as friends and loose collaborators in the Eau Claire scene, at least you know what you’re laughing at commands its space with unflinching precision
Listen to gash's "holiday time"
“I feel like The Joker,” Breckelle Bathke giggles toward the end of “good and bad,” — the opening track from gash’s label debut at least you know what you’re laughing at — before unleashing a guttural scream that gives way for the Eau Claire band’s 8-track album. “I don’t know if we were recording or if you just wanted to scream,” gash founder Logan Nyberg recalls, the details of this extemporaneous session in Bathke’s car fuzzy from memory. It’s one of many moments across at least you know what you’re laughing at (and gash’s prolific discography at-large) which blur the line between recording session and sample, earnest accident or ironic impulse, the thin lace veil between music and exorcism.
gash exists in these emotionally liminal spaces, reflecting on trauma and allowing the space for rage to inevitably percolate. Bathke’s lyrics emerge from a similar well, with at least you know what you’re laughing at marking her first time behind the gash pen. “I feel really honored,” she says, “and it feels nice that [the band] let me use gash as a vehicle for this catharsis.” Bathke’s compositions redirect gash toward emotional purge, injecting intimate expressions along a sonic trajectory set in motion by the compilations Halloween (2024) and 304/62 (2025).
Unlike those predecessors in gash’s catalog, at least you know what you’re laughing at began mainly as digital compositions, a stumbled-upon sample giving way to a guitar lick then uploaded to Google Drive and mulled over by the entire band. Workshopped following a 2025 self-booked tour, gash’s first outing in their current formation, at least you know what you’re laughing at is marked by a newfound ease that emanates through each track. “I just kind of looked at it and heard it in my head,” Nyberg says of the sequencing process for the album, continuing, “and I think I sent it to [these] guys, and I don’t think anyone said anything. Which, in gash language usually means thumbs up.” The result is a real-time snapshot at “the new gash,” straddling digital textures and noise-rock impulses from post-hardcore howls to tender indie twinkles.
“Sometimes I would just go in my car and scream,” Bathke recalls of the period in which at least you know what you’re laughing at was crafted, acknowledging the irrelevance of whether a moment was truly intentional or not. For gash, the immutable reactions to parsing through pain over time is essential, and the band situates the album among environments in which listeners have the space to sit with their thoughts. A solo camping trip, a drive along the Chippewa River, a bike ride as the seasons change. “Nature is fire, it’s kind of giving rebirth for me, it’s like...” Bathke trails as Nyberg completes: “It’s like change.”
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