With Leaving It All to Chance, Roomer don’t quite leave everything up to fate. The Berlin outfit’s debut album hums with guitar-driven heartbreak, pairing mind-splitting noise with seductive melodies. Capturing the gritty yet emotive energy of their live performances, the album welcomes in the occasional ear-candy, staying true to the raw physicality of a hazy club show all while sharpening its edges—crafted in true DIY spirit and released by Munich's Squama Recordings.
Roomer is the meeting point of four distinct creative forces in the European music scene, united through long-standing friendships and years of collaboration across projects ranging from avant-garde free improv to ethereal folk and ambient electronica. Inevitably—if surprisingly late—the question arose: why not start a band? In their hands, the rock band format became a canvas for their many musical worlds to collide.
Ronja Schößler, a fixture in Berlin’s experimental singer-songwriter scene, pens compositions of crystalline vulnerability that cut through the band’s guitar architectures with diaristic directness. Ludwig Wandinger, polymath producer and visual artist—recently featured on Caterina Barbieri’s light-years label—injects his drumming with an energy grounded in sharp sound-design instincts. A wizard of the 8-string guitar, Arne Braun lays down layered foundations that evoke the presence of multiple players at once, while minimalist composer and synthesist Luka Aron contributes electro-acoustic textures that shimmer with the weight of distant memories.
With Arne Braun stepping away from the band to focus on other projects—including Make-Up, the DIY recording studio where much of Leaving It All to Chance was brought to life—Roomer now continues as a trio for their upcoming live shows. Expect the occasional special guest or multidisciplinary collaboration, though, as Roomer moves through the gamut of Berlin’s artists, performers, and poets.
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Leaving It All to Chance opens with '2003', where overlapping planes of distorted flute and shimmering guitar create a temporal fold through which memory keeps seeping. Ronja’s confessional voice recounts a moment of disclarity: “I accidentally stepped into 2003,” she admits, reflecting on holding on too long and the realisation that starting over might be futile.
'Nothing Makes Me Feel' performs a decoy, opening with acoustic guitar patterns that suggest singer-songwriter fare before high-pitched distortion tears through the fabric of the song. The chorus arrives like a scene from some imaginary American teen drama finale, yet its pull is complicated by layers of wailing harmonics that hint at something darker.
Perhaps the album’s centrepiece, 'Windows' combines minimal music’s interlacing patterns with sudden eruptions of power chord catharsis. The track’s opaque lyrics (“you ask for purity / I have this melody”) float above guitar work that draws as much from Steve Reich’s phasing techniques as it does from My Bloody Valentine’s tremolo manipulations.
The album’s eponymous single 'Chance', accompanied by a gloomy video steeped in veiled imagery and opaque symbolism, sees Ronja holding light and shadow in her hands. Flame shards flicker through a prismatic lens as the song gradually shifts from straightforwardness into spectral webs of saturated echoes.
Reappearing from Roomer’s previous EP, Skice, albeit in a slower, moodier form, 'Much Too Loud' commences with acoustic guitar and a looming drone that set the stage for the slightly irked vocal delivery, lamenting undertones of power and control, softened by an almost disarming tenderness. Then, without warning, the chorus alters one’s sense of gravity with breathy vocals, countrified plucks, and angelic harmonics that render its central command (“put your head low and shut your mouth please”) both intimate and threatening.
'Stolen Kisses', the album’s penultimate track, reinterprets Psychic TV’s 1982 original—a sly nod to Roomer’s blend of experimental depth and pop immediacy. The British industrial post-punk pioneers blurred the lines between avant-garde provocation and melodic allure, and Roomer channels that spirit, turning the track into an anthem of their own. Distorted guitar downstrokes merge with swirling, feedback-laden slides, all underscored by the band’s undeniable knack for hooks.
Closing the album, 'Your Arms Are My Home' shifts into more pastoral territory. Wide-open, flanged acoustic guitars trace a thin line between comfort and doubt, offering a fragile sense of refuge. Each pause in the music weighs a tension, as if caught between holding on and letting go, its hushed conclusion lingering like a half-remembered promise.
