As crushed, musicians Bre Morell and Shaun Durkan make maximalist dream pop music for themselves. Recording out of various homes, not fixed to any single location (Morell from Texas, now based in Los Angeles, and Durkan in Portland, Oregon), they write the songs they want to hear, tuning from shared taste for trip-hop, Britpop, electronica, and the canon of ‘90s alt radio, a desire for emotionality, and an instinct for when it sounds right and honest; when it means something real to them. Their full-length debut, no scope, embodies their trust in one another and in their craft. A “no scope” kill in the video game lexicon is achieved by shooting a sniper rifle at close range without scoping in on your target, an apt metaphor for two artists following their pop impulses, shooting from the hip with precision. “It might also mean like, having no future,” jokes Morell, “getting no-scoped by life.” The reality of failure looms in most creative pursuits, perhaps more pronounced the further into your field you get. Several musical lives and midnight transmissions have led Morell and Durkan to this project. And on the triumphant no scope, crushed take life’s best shots with their strongest work, wielding melodic, open-hearted hooks through a maze of breakbeats and spliced sound design with unprecedented immediacy and clarity. Next level, unlocked. no scope follows extra life, the 2023 EP and debut collaboration between Morell, who also fronts the band Temple of Angels (Run For Cover Records), and Durkan, who has produced for others (Topographies, Young Prisms) following the 2010s run of his former band Weekend (Slumberland Records). Their first batch of songs together saw a groundswell of support, finding early fans in Pitchfork, NPR, and Ghostly International, who signed the band and gave extra life a wider physical release in 2024. crushed capped the year with their first-ever shows in the UK, and tested new material and live arrangements in early 2025 as the album was finalized. Written throughout the slow-simmering breakout, no scope finds the band driven to refocus, refine, and level up, to deliver on extra life’s promise. Morell and Durkan started songs remotely, then alternated sessions between their living spaces and co-producer/mixer Jorge Elbrecht’s house, a first for them after exclusively self-producing. Elbrecht brought his accomplished ear for melody and structure (credits include Japanese Breakfast, Hatchie, and Weyes Blood), helping them narrow down dozens of demos. “Jorge was so supportive of our ideas,” says Durkan. “We’re just really grateful to have him on the album. I don’t think it would sound as amazing as it does if he weren’t involved.” The group aligned on a goal for more depth, higher fidelity, and attention-holding flair. “We really wanted to push the extremes,” says Durkan. “When it’s poppy, it’s really poppy, and when it’s dark and heavy, it’s darker and heavier.” Where extra life utilized distortion and found sounds for atmosphere, here, they achieve the world-building effect from the ground up, sampling layers of guitar, bass, and synth from their unused demos for a collage-like compression that nods to J Dilla’s Donuts, a cited inspiration for the mix. Of course, beats are the backbone, and crushed craft a dizzying array that darts between Madchester acid house, Aphex-like ambient abstraction, drum ‘n’ bass, and the big beat electronica of the Chemical Brothers era. The strides resonate beyond sonics, with Morell commanding the space with full-hearted conviction. Her dynamic, muscular voice has set the band apart from its dream pop contemporaries, cutting through with an up-front power more in common with the high-stakes hooks of Harriet Wheeler andJeff Buckley. It has a natural counterpart in Durkan, who lends his softly spoken, hazy verses to several tracks for a balanced, expanded vantage. The two share songwriting duties, a fluid exercise where lyrics meet melody in various back-and-forth exchanges. Throughout no scope, crushed trigger high-energy arcs (“meghan”, “celadon”), mid-tempo balladry (“heartcontainer”, “licorice”, “silene”), and moody passages (various outros and “airgap” interludes) for a gripping pace that mirrors the many hits and misses of navigating relationships while investing in yourself. A bittersweet quality radiates across the record as the band grapples with fate and the choices that shape our lives. On the celestial opening track “exo”, Morell sees a premonition play out in reality: “I started to sense it wasn’t going to end well, I still just couldn’t let it go.” Above a shuffling breakbeat, she sings into the sky, stars fleetingly aligned, “It’s just so sweet / and I’ve lost my mind / I pray it lasts / at least for one night.” “Cwtch” crosses pop splendor with spiraling self-destruction and drug use. “Starburn” outlines the brink of despair with chugging bass and shimmering guitar lines, searching for divine intervention, or “cosmic luck,” Durkan explains, “to make me feel like my life could eventually add up to something that made sense to me.” At the center of no scope is “oneshot”, which Morell calls “a toxic love song” she wrote while repeatedly losing a boss fight in Metal Gear Solid. “I thought it was the perfect allegory for continuing to show up for someone who’s slowly just killing you.” More a culmination than a debut, no scope feels refreshingly unguarded and fine-tuned, a modern work from two artists coursing the crosshairs of life in real-time.