I Hate Models operates from instinct, not instruction. His sound is volatile and emotional, not just designed to move bodies, but to rupture and rebuild. In performance, he moves between extremes with the tension of an unbalanced reaction control system, moments of crushing industrial force punctuated by melodic strands that feel almost too intimate to hold. There’s a raw sincerity behind his disregard for templates. He doesn’t chase genres, he ignites states with surges of nostalgia, grief, rage or ecstasy fed directly into the mix — power routed through the re-entry control algorithm but with no guarantee of a soft landing. It’s not a pose, the chaos is engineered. Every set is a confrontation, every track an exposed circuit. IHM’s performances aren’t designed for comfort, they’re pressure chambers. What remains after the blast is the overwhelming feeling of something that was entirely, undeniably real.