Anybody who knows me knows of Pigeon Pit. Hailing from Olympia, Washington and led by frontwoman Lomes Oleander, Pigeon Pit makes folky punky country music that I can’t get enough of. After the release of their album crazy arms in January 2025, I was prepared to let it carry me through the rest of the year. That was the case until November, with the release of their second album of the year, Leash Aggression, which became my best friend on the depressing commute home from the Exam Centre. This gem was recorded in August 2025 by Capt. Tripps Ballsington (I know, right?) with a six-piece band consisting of Oleander on guitar, vocals, and piano, Olive Hannah on drums, Josh Hoey on bass, Eva on fiddle, Jim Rhian on harmonica, and Maddy Bun on banjo. 

A folk-punk triumph with the longest track clocking in at just over three and a half minutes, Leash Aggression is said to have been written “quickly and not by choice.” Listening to the lyrics makes the meaning of this phrase obvious. Championing love and hope in the face of bleak, unbearable pain made mundane, Leash Aggression’s hero is the “white knuckle angel.” Referenced throughout the album, the white knuckle angel personifies the daily commitment to optimism and action necessary to resist against the political burdens that threaten our very existence, especially on the grounds of class and queerness. 

Lyrically stunning despite being written so quickly, the album perfectly captures both the brutal horrors and the hope which manifests in daily life. In “rearview mirror blues,” Oleander sings “Text me bids for human understanding in five perfect words: I fuckin’ hate my job,” affirming that even amidst the grueling nature of routine, there’s understanding and solidarity with others experiencing the same hardships. Later on in the song, she sings “I am afraid now of certain things I didn’t used to be/my mom’s hair is long and beautiful and white/drop you at the airport, I love you, I’ll see you soon/just one more kiss goodbye,” encapsulating the lingering terror associated with finally having something so good, yet loss is always lingering in the back of your mind. 

In “anthill mode,” Oleander switches seamlessly from themes of despair into hope, from remarking that “the real horror of the traffic is that it’s the same people every day” to immediately sharing that “I believe that where we’re headed/was worth all the trouble that we start.” In the face of adversity that seems at times insurmountable, it becomes increasingly difficult to remember what it is that we’re fighting for in the first place. “anthill mode” serves as a recognition and affirmation that the routines we stumble through every day will one day make sense. It’s this simple hope that provides motivation for carrying on, despite the looming political terror that motivates the urgency in each song.

In “last night on planet earth,” Oleander ends the song by stating “I wanna make you feel free.” This captures the mission of Leash Aggression, an album dedicated to affirming our freedom and autonomy in a world that constantly tries to shut us down. Echoing a scene from countless of our lives, she describes the shared joy of music by singing: “You find yourself inside a basement full of everyone you’ve ever met/And the moment isn’t divided by the clock or by a wage/And when the band just starts to play and you can taste the bitter sweat/And all the bodies start to move together, rollin’ like a wave.” At the end of the day, the sweaty, damp, tinnitus-inducing basements will always be here for us. They provide us the backdrop for the radical experience of joy, despite the feeling that survival becomes harder by the day.

At the end of the day, Oleander best captures the empowering, hopeful, and loveful thesis of the album herself; “Never slow down, white knuckle angel. This is going to take everything you have.” And you know what, I love it back.