Crumb

Crumb’s second album, Ice Melt, takes its name from the coarse blend of salts that you can buyfrom your local hardware store for $9.99. When sprinkled on your wintry steps, this mixtureabsorbs water and gives off heat, transforming the ice into a viscous, briney slush and,eventually, nothing at all. Beginning with the dynamic chaos of “Up & Down,” and ending withCrumb’s closest thing to a lullaby, Ice Melt’s ten tracks combine, like ice sculptures melting intoa glistening puddle. From the start, the group knew that cohesion was best achieved through plumbing theirindividual strengths— frontwoman Lila Ramani’s earliest songwriting, which catalyzed thegroup’s first two EPs; Bri Aronow’s knack for building (dis)affecting soundscapes; the hypnoticgrounding of Jonathan Gilad’s drums, a Crumb mainstay; and Jesse Brotter’s distinctive bassplaying, which subtly traces Ramani’s vocal melodies while providing an unrelenting pulse.These collective skills make Crumb a project of independent self-discovery, four creative mindsconverging around an idea that is always shifting and reforming. Convening in Los Angeles to work with producer Jonathan Rado, Crumb tapped intoatmosphere-creation like never before, building experimental compositions that are at turnshead-nodding and surrealist, energetic and euphoric. Ramani characterizes the album as a“return back down to earth,” a deeply felt examination of “real substances and beings that liveon this planet.” It is also the cultivation of road-worn musicians exploring brand-new sounds andthematic concepts, pushing themselves into territory they could never have anticipated five years ago.