Pinpointing the specific catalyst for an avalanche can be slippery — any combination of classic elements, human interference, or freak accident can trigger disaster — and documenting these precise moments often rests on serendipitous reflexes. On Two Wheels Move the Soul, Robber Robber offer themselves as ignition and capture every sound in the wake. Involuntarily thrust into the throws of rootless nomadism, Robber Robber ringleader Nina Cates collects a series of pressurized vignettes to assemble the Burlington quartet’s thrillingly explosive sophomore album.

Two Wheels Move the Soul was written and recorded throughout the winter of 2024 and 2025, a season of Cates’ life characterized by near-constant upheaval. In January of 2025, Cates (and Robber Robber co-founder) Zack James were displaced from their longtime home at the behest of a landlord’s call to have their building demolished. In a moment’s notice — and amidst a particularly brutal Vermont winter — Cates and James were left to fend for themselves. Luckily, the two were able to tap a deep well of support within their community, finding respite on the couches of Lily Seabird, Greg Freeman, and Thus Love’s Echo Mars. An unused attic provided their longest arrangement.

The personal and economic chaos of living at the mercy of nameless powers-that-be redirected into a hyperfocused attention on Two Wheels Move the Soul. Returning to Little Jamaica Studios — one of the sites for their acclaimed debut Wild Guess — Cates, James, guitarist Will Krulak and bassist Carney Hemler hunkered down with their trusted engineer Benny Yurco. The familiarity between the cast of characters allowed the studio to become a sanctuary, and foregrounded Two Wheels Move The Soul’s constant foray into sonically adventurous terrain. “Everywhere else that we had to be, we were very much visitors,” James recalls. “When we were working on the record, it was nice because it felt like this is our space.” Still, an overwhelming sense of impending doom hangs over Two Wheels Move the Soul. Every scribble on the guitar thins the air, each stab of percussion and wave of distortion makes it that much harder to breathe.

On Two Wheels Move the Soul, landslides come early and the news of their arrival is just as chilly. Propelled by Cates’ nonchalant bars — inspired by the effortlessly-cool cadence of Gucci Mane and Lou Reed — Two Wheels Move the Soul saunters in and out of frame with the implicit assurance that any gaze will follow. Album opener and lead single “The Sound It Made” rattles into existence, eschewing exposition to plunge directly in the deep end. The polarized extremities of Robber Robber’s sonic palette fuse throughout Two Wheels Move the Soul, spanning post-punk scorchers, burnt-out slacker anthems, and melodies that sweeten the bitter pills stomached along the way. “Yes I know, gotta work for my pay,” Cates exhales on standout “New Year’s Eve,” a swaggering depiction of life’s myriad impediments. “I’m tired, so is everyone - how can I complain?” Cates wastes no time indulging in the miseries of late-stage capitalism, opting instead to resolve casual disappointment with a cool composure. “What more is there to do?,” Cates asks on “Pieces,” the slow-burning b-side intro that plainly lays out what happens when your life falls apart: “you’ll end up with a piece.”

Working through the discomfort of class, upheaval, and catastrophe is a central philosophy on Two Wheels Move the Soul. “You can leave it, but it follows you home,” Cates buries beneath incendiary bursts on “It’s Perfect Out Here in the Sun.” Easy to miss, it is a possible catalyst nonetheless. In the midst of the avalanche itself, the sparks ignited throughout Two Wheels Move the Soul fall by the wayside, and all that’s left is the wreck. “Upend, upend,” Cates intones atop kinetic and relentless instrumentation. Then the pressure cracks again. “So we dance.”

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