DIY Lobotomy Kit: Ten Years of Static, Screaming, and Starting Over
Some records get made in clean rooms—glass walls, good lighting, a team of engineers adjusting knobs while someone sings about nothing into a gold-plated mic.
This record wasn’t made there.
DIY Lobotomy Kit was born in the wreckage—burned-out hard drives, water-damaged notebooks, cigarette ash ground into a carpet no one vacuumed. It smells like mold and hairspray and bad decisions. It’s stitched together from panic attacks, 3AM voice memos, and the kind of heartbreak you don’t come back from clean.
It’s Alice Anarchy’s life on tape—bleeding, bitter, and beautiful in the ugliest way.
No label called the shots. No producer gave notes. No backup plan.
Just a decade of surviving, screaming, and somehow still making music while everything else was on fire.
This isn’t a debut. It’s a detonation.
Before the Kit: The Years No One Clapped For
Long before the name, before the stage lights and the matching merch, there was a girl with cracked headphones and a library card, trying to learn music theory while the world tried to teach her shame.
Honor roll student with a hellmouth in her chest.
Too smart. Too queer. Too angry.
The kind of kid teachers said “had potential,” but only when she shut the hell up.
She didn’t.
She wrote lyrics in the margins of math tests. She cut class to cry in the practice rooms.
Her first love was distortion. Her second was revenge.
Every band she joined collapsed under the weight of indifference. Rehearsals turned into no-shows. Friends flaked. Lovers lied. But the songs kept coming—ugly little things that didn’t ask for permission or polish.
Some nights, she’d scream into a mic just to make sure her voice still existed.
“I was writing songs like someone leaving claw marks on the inside of a coffin, It wasn’t about being heard. It was about staying real.”
The early tracks on DIY Lobotomy Kit? They’ve got basement dust in their lungs.
They were born in shitty apartments, on borrowed gear, in between breakups and breakdowns.
You can hear it if you listen close—the hunger, the fury, the unkillable part of her that refused to stay quiet.
10 Years in the Making: The Breakdown, the Breakthrough
The album itself is a beautiful mess of sound and feeling. It’s a record that knows nothing about restraint, and everything about survival. Each track feels like a desperate scream—like Alice was suffocating in a world that didn’t know her name. She used her guitar as a lifeline and feedback as a way to cut through the noise of a life that never stopped shouting.
Somewhere in all that chaos, she found a voice. A voice so undeniable, it couldn’t be drowned by late-night doubts or critics who didn't care to listen. But it wasn’t easy. And it wasn’t pretty.
The years before this album were spent battling every version of herself. Every time Alice thought she had it together, the world reminded her she was still out of place. But she didn’t stop. She kept writing. Even when her fingers bled from playing broken guitars. Even when she felt too much—too loud, too chaotic, too alien to fit into the boxes people wanted her to.
She came to music to survive, not to be pretty. That’s why every note on this album carries so much weight.
The Lobotomy Kit
DIY Lobotomy Kit is a self-inflicted surgery—cutting away all the things the world told her to be. There’s no polished sound here. There’s no attempt at commercial perfection. It’s just Alice with a microphone, a guitar, and a decade’s worth of stories she can’t hide anymore.
Some days, she still feels like that girl with the cracked headphones, hiding in the dark corners of the world. Some days, the anxiety comes back, the static fills her head again, and it feels like nothing is real. But every time that happens, she picks up the guitar. She pushes record. She makes another song.
And it’s all still raw. Still real. Still bleeding.
The truth is, this album isn’t about being fixed. It’s about embracing the damage. The DIY Lobotomy Kit isn’t meant to erase who Alice was—it’s meant to give her the tools to survive who she is.
A Record for the Rebels
The truth: DIY Lobotomy Kit isn’t for everyone. It’s for the ones who’ve been told to shut up. For the freaks and the outcasts, the weirdos who never fit into their neighborhoods, their schools, or their family photos. It’s for the ones who’ve had their minds twisted, who’ve been drugged, dismissed, or silenced. It’s for the girls who were told to smile and play nice, but kept their claws hidden underneath.
In the end, DIY Lobotomy Kit is not a lifeline. It’s a battle cry.
It’s the sound of Alice Anarchy becoming who she’s always been. The girl with too many songs inside her, who finally decided to let them out. Too loud. Too real. Too raw to be ignored.
DIY Lobotomy Kit is Alice Anarchy’s truth. And that truth is ugly, beautiful, and impossible to ignore.