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The first time we ever wrote about Bryce Bishop, I came to one pretty simple conclusion: genres simply don’t apply to him. Years later, we’re happy to report that hasn’t changed. With his latest album, whatever, Bishop continues to move between sounds, influences, and ideas with little concern for where any of it is supposed to fit.

Reflecting on the inspiration behind the record, Bishop explains, “I was so uncertain in 2025. I was burnt out from what I thought was my dream job, and the guilt came right along with the stress.” Despite recognizing how fortunate he was, he found himself anxious about losing what he’d built. With his living situation and social circles changing, he felt an overwhelming need to make a drastic adjustment without knowing exactly what that should look like. “This album is a documentation of that time,” he shares. “Not in chronological order, not in any particular detail. Just snippets of moments through that time. I hope you like it. thank you for everything.”

And that’s exactly what whatever feels like. Rather than offering a neatly packaged story about finding yourself, Bishop lets listeners sit with the uncertainty, second-guessing, nostalgia, and occasional absurdity of figuring out what comes next.

“Laquer” is an inviting introduction, immediately pulling listeners into an immersive soundscape. Beneath intricate layers of acoustic guitar riffs, offputting, in a good way, production twinkles, and intensifying percussion cues, he wrestles with feeling disconnected from a job he’s supposedly lucky to have and struggling to maintain friendships. There’s a particularly biting moment when he acknowledges that his younger self would have given anything to be where he is now, before adding, “Funny that, I almost killed his ass.” It’s that combination of self-awareness, dark humor, and genuine frustration backed by compelling production and gut-punching vocals.

“Eltham” explores the anxiety that comes with reconnecting with someone after months or years of separation. Bishop turns something as simple as returning a phone call into an entire internal crisis, worrying about being a nuisance or having nothing interesting to say. Underneath the overthinking, though, is a genuine longing to be part of someone’s life again. “See” takes a more introspective turn, reflecting on the people we’ve met and the versions of ourselves we’ve left behind. Meanwhile, “i’ve been doing quite well thank you” opens with a wonderfully unhinged burst of laughter, setting the tone for a track about getting older, romantic uncertainty, and wondering what exactly is wrong with you. Sometimes, the only reasonable response to an existential crisis is to laugh a little.

On “Heineken,” Bishop tackles the financial realities of pursuing a creative career. Between student debt, minimum wage, and the possibility of trading the studio for an office, he captures the uncomfortable balancing act of making a living without abandoning what makes you feel most like yourself. His repeated admissions of ego-tripping are equal parts funny and painfully honest.

“Parachute” is a personal favorite, pairing its transportive sound with an unfiltered look at Bishop’s musical journey. With whispered vocals, he revisits missed opportunities, industry pressures, and creative setbacks, reflecting on watching everyone around him move forward while struggling to keep up himself. Rather than getting lost in regret, however, he leaves room for a little optimism, even if he hasn’t quite figured out where he’s headed.

Next is “blue cross blue shield blue balls,” a fictional 30-second ad mocking the flaws of privatized healthcare, with the line “not your cancer, not your problem,” hitting in a way that makes you want to laugh/cry. It’s a wonderfully ridiculous detour, but a welcome one that many struggling with the pitfalls of the healthcare industry, especially those of us who don’t have insurance, can relate to.

“Five” brings us back to the warmth and nostalgia that make this record so easy to get lost in. Another standout, the track has an enveloping quality that makes you want to close your eyes and let it wash over you. Its reflections on changing friendships, finding new connections, and reconnecting with people who still feel like home are particularly affecting. “Ninetysix” gets even more personal, reaching back into childhood to explore loneliness and a sense of belonging. Recalling a memory of hiding in a hole in the backyard with his sister and a friend, Bishop remembers the comfort of having a little world of his own, only to realize the others had started playing without him. It’s a simple memory that opens up something much bigger about the ways early experiences continue to shape us.

The title track, “Whatever,” pulls together many of the album’s biggest questions. Looking back on missed opportunities and the person he thought he might become, Bishop wrestles with whether he could have done things differently. Still, there’s a shift toward considering what he actually wants next. He doesn’t have all the answers, but perhaps he’s becoming a little more comfortable with that.

Closing with “i find it hard to tell,” Bishop returns to the complicated nature of old friendships and the memories that never quite leave us. Reflecting on people he once shared so much with, he confronts the distance that has grown between them and the apologies he still wishes he could make. It’s a bittersweet ending for a record that spends so much time looking backward while trying to figure out what comes next.

Ultimately, whatever is a reminder that growing up doesn’t mean having all the answers and accepting that the life you imagined might look a little different from the one you’re living. Learning to sit with the uncertainty and finding a way to laugh at yourself along the way can bring you inner peace. Years after first writing about Bryce Bishop, I’m still struggling to put him into a musical box. His sound remains just as difficult to pin down, and honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Listen to 'whatever' below: