Instead of trying to craft conventional punk or hardcore songs, PISS looked at what each song was about and created music to enhance that. "It was like scoring a movie," says Tay. One of the tracks is about going to therapy but feeling stuck and uncertain if that process is beneficial in any way, so there's a lot of short, repetitive sounds to make it feel like you're banging your head against the wall. "I am the only one of the band that comes from a punk and hardcore background, but that's actually made it really easy for us to start to push the boundaries of the genre in a way that feels really exciting."

Sure, there are plenty of brutal breakdowns during their 30-minute set, but there are also moments of electronic beauty and scuzzy soundscapes, while samples from writers, journalists and activists talking about violence are played out between songs, as both a brief respite and a nod to a wider cultural issue about violence.

"It is such an intense, abrasive thing that it does sometimes catch people off guard. I'm amazed by how captivated people can be by it," says Garreth. "But the fact it resonates isn't that surprising because our music talks about such visceral subject matter that so many people, especially women, have had experiences with."

"The thing that really surprised me is this project's ability to transcend gender and the response that we get from men, which has been overwhelmingly positive," says Tay. "The music is about violence against women, because I'm a woman. But sexual violence, especially CSA, does not discriminate based on gender. I have been very humbled by seeing the impact that it has on people across genders."

When they started out, PISS's only goal was to play a single show. "I've been playing music for so long [and getting nowhere] that making it big just never even crossed my mind," says Tay, with the rest of the band approaching it with a similarly unambitious drive. But their ferocious, unapologetic live show quickly turned them into a word-of-mouth sensation around the Vancouver DIY scene before YouTube videos introduced them to a global audience.

Still, each PISS gig is different, says Tay. "I've learned a lot about myself performing [these songs] over and over. Sometimes it's very cathartic, and I feel like I really connected with everybody; sometimes I feel horrible."

Before every show, she has to do a rigorous warm-up routine and wear knee pads to protect herself from her incredibly physical performance. "It's a work in progress, and I'm constantly learning about what my body needs to be able to endure it night after night," she explains. It's an emotionally demanding thing as well. "I try really hard to connect with something authentic every single time. The more I've done it, the more I understand that part of myself… and I'm ready to move onto the next stage."

However, their debut still doesn't have a release date (though it is expected later this year via Sub Pop), and while PISS have started toying around with what comes next, they haven't got a firm direction in mind. "We're looking at our careers with a lot of overwhelm right now," says Tyler. "But this all started out of us building something for ourselves, and it was never for any other reason. That's something we will lean on moving forward."

During those tentative conversations about the future, the band reference artists like 90s alt-rockers Godspeed You! Black Emperor. "People who prioritise the art above everything else and making sure that wherever their career takes them, they're maintaining a sense of integrity," says Tay.

Instead of a personal purge, the PISS live show has evolved into an act of service towards the audience. "I have such profoundly intimate interactions with people after the gig – young girls crying, people telling me the types of things that the music has inspired and given them the courage to do," she continues.

It's why joy is such an important part of what PISS are building. Their winking Instagram bio promises "easy listening"; there's a playful, childlike quality to some of their merch, and the live show features dissonant recordings of youthful, infectious laughter from kids dreaming of being astronauts, artists, or singers. "When writing the record, we had long conversations about making sure that the emotional landscape of the project represented something a bit more honest about what it's like to survive trauma. It is a lifelong experience that is not just characterised by despair or rage," says Tay. "The most painful truths are only painful in contrast to joy, love and gentleness, so the record, which is about childhood, lends itself really well to that."

"But the joyous, warm and friendly presence that we have through our social media and merch is meant to be inviting," she continues. "I don't want to gatekeep this project. I don't want to scare people away. I want to pull people in and make them feel safe to explore those really dark and horrible things."

PISS' debut album is expected later this year.