"We generally have no interest in each other's part of the process." Admittedly, it's not the answer that I'm expecting, but, then again, Some Minor Noise, a pair of elusive noise troubadours, Jane Void and Wayne Doe, situated in Toronto, don't exactly seem like a band to follow the crowd.

While Doe is a little more tactful when discussing their somewhat detached process of songwriting, ("We just have such similar tastes/life experiences that it works"), the backstory of the band is intriguing.

"I started going to raves when I was 13 and started producing random electronica," Jane (puzzlingly, not her real name) recalls. "We threw these completely DIY parties where everyone pitched in to put them together." After drunkenly yelling some of her poetry over a friend's techno set, various outlets, including a trip-hop producer and an ill-fated metal band, sought her vocal chops, before Jane finally found her feet amongst the clattering drum machines and distorted funk of electro. Wayne, on the other hand, spent his teenage years crafting "pretty basic" punk songs. "By the time I got to high school, I realised that most people were better at guitar than me and I gave up on music for a few years," he details. "I eventually got into partying and started experimenting with electronic music."

While his musical interpretation of the genre may have dithered, Wayne's channeling of the punk aesthetic, a typically raw, unhinged approach, is alive and, well, spitting. Indeed, as their own Bandcamp page would gleefully inform you, Some Minor Noise make 'music to dance/cry/break stuff to', all thanks to his pirated software and crackling speakers. "The band name comes from the beat, 'Some Minor Noise'. My setup at the time forced me to embrace a lo-fi sound," Wayne admits. "Some Minor Noise was just my description of that sound, and it later became very fitting of the mood and sound of the band."

"I'm influenced by everything," he states. "Sometimes I even record the sounds of my neighbours yelling at each other or the clanks of wooden spoons on pots and pans. It all finds a way into the sound." This unique method, coupled with Jane's key inspiration of "life", has vividly shaped the resulting sound of their initial releases, a pulsating self-titled EP and a wickedly unpredictable rendition of the Pixies' 'Where Is My Mind?' on a slighter two-track offering.

While last year proved busy for the duo, 2013 has been a little slower paced, if only for good reason. Last month saw the unveiling of 'Coffers', a remarkably more focused effort, yet no less chaotic than we're accustomed to hearing. "I was raised by the wolves in my head," Jane coos menacingly over a dizzying synth line, hinting at a buried, looming narrative that is, by her own admission, quite extraordinary. "I left home at an early age and was a hitchhiker and travelled around a lot," she recounts. "Lived out of my backpack, slept in a lot of ditches. There was one summer where I decided to go live in the woods by myself. I was looking for something. I felt empty. But I found it was just as empty there. Wherever you go, there you are."

Upon awarding 'Coffers' a second listen (and trust me, it's very much deserved), it becomes apparent that Some Minor Noise haven't tidied up their sound at all. Those themes of isolation, despair and depravity, they all remain present, but have been meticulously bled into a cacophony of claustrophobic synths and intricate beats. It's no longer the deranged punch to the face, more the teasing, languorous ebb of snake venom, sluggishly entering your veins and hungrily intoxicating you. Curiously, it hasn't stopped me from going back for more, either.


You can visit Some Minor Noise by heading here.