Black Vinyl. We outgrow toys, but the impulse behind them lingers. As our worlds open up, we search for meaning beyond small plastic figurines. Dollhouse-the self-produced debut from New York City's Slow Fiction-captures that curious instinct in motion, embracing growth while resisting any single point of view. An uneasy sense of play runs throughout these eleven tracks, where surveillance and introspection blur together. Lyrics twist in perspective, circling petty pain and other people's cruelties, searching for some kind of clarity. "Who are you when no one's looking back or through," Vassallo sings on opener "junior year," over a quizzical bass line and refracting guitars. It's propulsive rock that encourages reflection. The songs edge toward something more unsettled, probing the line between who we are in private and who we become when we're seen.    dollhouse embraces transformation, exploring different lenses of existence, trying on different characters to explore the deeper realms of vulnerability. More than anything, it reflects a band learning to let go: of expectations, of habits, and of the need to have all the answers before the music exists.