The debut album, Micrographia, bends genre, pulling influences from dream pop, electronic ambience, and breakbeat to craft something that feels both weightless and deeply grounded. Taking its name from an influential 17th century scientific work by Robert Hooke which pioneered the microscope and its use on insects and plants, Bug Teeth’s Micrographia, like its namesake, hones in on the small things, amidst life’s larger struggles. Album opener Tapeworm awakens Micrographia in a childlike state. A deep breath foreshadowing an imminent plunge and the first thread of the intricate world of Micrographia that Bug Teeth have woven. Softness and loss print on the backdrop of percussive whirrs of synthesisers that decorate a tactility in restrained, haunted glockenspiel. Ammonite then flexes the band's muscles. Trademark pulses and control are allowed to be polluted by aggression and the dynamic range of the record. The album feels macro and micro, huge and small all at once. From mountainous beauty in Crunch Went The Snow, to the intimate, nurturing chant of ‘Reflect, repair, replace, remain’ in Warp & Weft II. 

Shocked by the passing of their mother in 2021, band founder/songwriter PJ Johnson, Micrographia questions how to cope with and heal after the complexity of sudden, tragic loss. Via a pristinely beauteous blend of 90s dream-pop, Hauntological indie, ambient, breakcore and psychedelia; the literary works of H.G Wells or Murakami, and the naturalism of Ivor Abrahams, Bug Teeth translate the most traumatic of human experiences into ephemeral, otherworldly art.