Archive for August, 2025

12th August 2025

Christopher Nosnibor

Zabus have been on fire lately, as their recent EP, Shadow Genesis, released in June. It’s not only the prolific output which is noteworthy – some acts spunk out new material every other week, but the quality simply isn’t there – but we’re looking at a creative purple patch of innovation and ideas flowing in full spate. Whores of Holyrood is their fifth full-length album in less than two years, and while Zabus is ordinarily a collective centred around project founder Jeremy Moore, Whores of Holyrood is the first ostensibly solo release by Moore under the moniker, and it’s also pitched as ‘one of the most overtly political statements from Zabus to date.’

This matters. Anyone with an outlet, or a platform, right now, has, a duty to state their position. Silence is complicity. We know this from history. Individually, there is next to nothing we can do to stop Trump’s fascistic march, or halt the genocide in Gaza, or stop the wat in Sudan. But fucking hell, we are witnessing hell on earth right now. To take a line from William Burroughs’ Exterminator, ‘There are no innocent bystanders … what are they doing there in the first place?’ I don’t necessarily entirely agree with the stance, but it’s worth unpacking a bit, particularly in the context of 2025, when people are more likely to film the most horrific events on their phones and post them on social media than to intervene. I know, people are scared and all the rest, but… something is deeply wrong.

The title, Whores of Holyrood, immediately made me think of the Scottish parliament, but it would appear that there is no connection or implication intended. Instead, the album ‘explores the positive feedback loop between fascist authoritarian rule and societal inaction, apathy and resignation. Holyrood is a metaphor for the established classist hierarchy which derives its strength and influence from our subjugation.’

As an aside, ‘rood’ is a middle English term with its origins in Saxon for the cross, and a rood screen was a feature of medieval churches, a carved wooden partition depicting the crucifixion. Whores of Holyrood may not have any direct or specific connection to these historical roots, but they still seem somewhat relevant, albeit tangentially.

It’s ‘Shadow Genesis’, the lead track from the recent EP that launches the album with its reverb-heavy blues guitar and gothic stylings, and it’s dark, brooding, but it’s nothing to the snarling lo-fo post-punk goth epic that is ‘Burn to Your Own Destruction’: six and a half minutes of echo-soaked guitar swirling beneath bombastic baritone vocals, while the tile track is commanding, archly gothic, but with murky black metal production values. The same is true of ‘A-YA Bullet V’, which brings the driving funk groove of Bauhaus at their best, while also pushing the experimentalism to the fore.

‘Cremation Psalm’ is a murky swagger, equal parts Nick Cave and The Volcanoes, and every track on this album is pure gold. The muffled, echo-heavy production is not a detriment, but an asset, accentuating the old-school vibe which is s integral to the experience.

‘Sod Martyr’ is dark, dark, dark, and sparse, and something about it calls to mind The Honolulu Mountain Daffodils, while ‘Strangers of Non-Being’ brings together goth and heavy psychedelia with the addition of low, slow drone

If the Shadow Genesis EP showcased a keen experimentalism, and a broad range of stylistic touchstones, then Whores of Holyrood takes it all to the next level. Zabus keep pushing forward, outward, onward. Right now, it seems there is no stopping them.

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The forthcoming full-length from Los Angeles–based band Agriculture, The Spiritual Sound, traces a narrative arc through extremes.  The album is largely a fusing of the visions of its two principal songwriters: Dan Meyer and Leah Levinson.  Though distinct, their voices converge in a singular spiritual grammar—one that defines the totality of The Spiritual Sound, not as separate parts, but as one unified expression.

Dan writes like someone clawing toward the divine through noise, channeling Zen Buddhism, historical collapse, ecstatic grief. Leah’s songs move differently: grounded in queer history and AIDS-era literature, amid the suffocating fog of the present, they carry the weight of survival as daily ritual.  Levinson leads the charge on the album’s latest single ‘The Weight’  of which she comments:

“’The Weight’ is part of a series of songs on the album that bears witness to queer life. It was written reflecting on a particular month last year when so much seemed heightened. It seemed like many of my friends were being harassed in public—both verbally and physically—for being trans, for being queer, and/or for being women (it’s not always clear which). This was also a time when I was feeling a lot of love and a lot of community. I wanted this song and the songs around it to honestly reflect both these elements. I wanted to write about transness but didn’t want to rely on political aphorisms and indulgent images of suffering. I wanted to paint a holistic portrait of queer life.” – Leah Levinson

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Photo credit: Olivia Crumm

AGRICULTURE LIVE DATES 2025:

Sep 3  Bristol, UK — The Exchange
Sep 4  Brighton, UK — Dust
Sep 5  London, UK — Oslo
Sep 6  Manchester, UK — White Hotel
Sep 7  Newcastle, UK — The Cluny 2
Sep 9  Leeds, UK — Brudenell Social Club
Sep 11  Dublin, IE — Workman’s Club
Sep 12  Cork, IE — Nudes
Sep 13  Belfast, NIR — Voodoo
Sep 14  Glasgow, SC — CORE. Festival
Sep 16  Paris, FR — Point Ephemere
Sep 17  Kortrijk, BE — Wilde Westen
Sep 18  Haarlem, NL — Patronaat

Oct 8  Brooklyn, NY — Union Pool (Record Release Show)

Oct 27  San Antonio, TX — Paper Tiger $
Oct 28  Austin, TX — Mohawk $
Oct 30  Atlanta, GA — Masquerade $
Oct 31  Saxapahaw, NC — Haw River Ballroom $
Nov 01  Silver Spring, MD — The Fillmore $
Nov 02  Philadelphia, PA — Union Transfer $

Nov 04  Louisville, KY — Zanzabar
Nov 06  Oklahoma City, OK — 89th Street
Nov 08  Albuquerque, NM — Launchpad
Nov 09  Phoenix, AZ — Valley Bar
Nov 11  Denver, CO — Hi-Dive
Nov 13  Salt Lake City, UT — The State Room
Nov 14  Boise, ID — Neurolux
Nov 16  Seattle, WA — Madame Lou’s
Nov 18  Vancouver, BC — Fox Cabaret
Nov 19  Portland, OR — Mississippi Studios
Nov 21  Sacramento, CA — Cafe Colonial
Nov 22  San Francisco, CA — The Chapel
Dec 04  San Diego, CA — Soda Bar
Dec 05  Los Angeles, CA — Lodge Room

$ with Boris

The Helen Scarsdale Agency – 8th August 2025

Christopher Nosnibor

When the accompanying notes and press release which replicates them describes a release as ‘dire’, you know you’re in for an uncomfortable ride. In the world of noise, such a choice of adjective doesn’t carry quite the same negative connotations as is the majority of musical spheres. When it comes to noise, and certain strains of metal, the objective is to make it as unpleasant as possible. It will alienate most people, and that’s precisely the objective: those who can withstand the torture are the right people.

And so it is that Mutual Consuming is described as ‘a dire piece of isolationist thrum, spectral caterwaul, and heavy gloom through an oblique and abstracted coupling of electronics, noise, and ominous field recordings.’

To quote further from the accompanying notes, Roxann and Rachal Spikula, the twins who make up Relay for Death’, offered the consideration that “Mutual Consuming comes from a concept in the philosophies that underpin traditional Chinese medicine theory, where the two opposing states (yin and yang) are 2 states on a continuum and their interactions produce an infinite possible number of states of aggregation. Within this interplay, there is a dynamic balance that is maintained by a constant adjustment of their relative levels. So an excess of yin consumes yang and vice versa.” We asked if this has anything to do with the concept of the Ouroboros, to which they responded, “We hadn’t thought about Ouroboros, but the eternal cycle of things makes sense too. The gorge fest of existence.” Does this relate to previous works? The twins concisely respond to that question in a rare interview in Untitled, “No.”

The album features but two pieces, each clocking in around the seventeen minute mark. An awkward length, but plenty of time to make for an uncomfortable, unsettling, and even torturous experience. And it is.

‘intone the morph orb’ is a darkly unsettling expanse of dark ambient, the sounds of thunder and cavernous growls from the pits of hell are collaged with scrawling metallic drones. Distant detonations reverberate, like volcanic eruptions beyond the horizon, as wispy ominousness lingers in the air. Very little tangible takes place, but the tension grows. There is a dark thriller / horror aspect to this: the hairs on the back of your neck prickle and you fear whatever may lie around the corner. The second half of the track is less precipitous, given to a protracted mid-to-high-end drones that swirls and eddies, cut through with occasional whistles of feedback.

There’s something vaguely Ballardian about the title ‘terminal ice wind’, and it is, indeed, a cold atmosphere which runs forth from the speakers, churning an ever denser sonic murk as the first few minute pass. It’s a seeping morass of dark discordance which takes cues from Throbbing Gristle. Three minutes in, thunderous explosions register, and all is noise, albeit for a brief time. In time, dissonant drones, thrumming reverberations and low rumbles emerge and come to dominate the mix in what is an ever-shifting soundscape, where light is in limited supply. This is, indeed, dark, and oppressive.

Everything about Mutual Consuming is as it should be. A collage of challenging sound on sound, any underlying concept fades to insignificance as the sounds assail the ears without apology. Mutual Consuming is not harsh, and on the noise spectrum, it’s fairly gentle, but it’s by no means accessible or easy on the ear.

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San Diego/Los Angeles-based shoegaze outfit Distressor returns with their latest single, ‘Broken Glass’. Following their breakthrough collaboration with shoegaze giant Wisp on Tomorrow (via Interscope Records), the independent four-piece is carving a new lane for themselves—one that blends the haze and texture of shoegaze with the raw, melodic punch of early 2000s emo.

Formed in late 2017, Distressor has built a reputation for pairing massive, driving rhythm sections with high-register vocals and emotionally charged choruses that cut through the fog. Their 2023 debut LP Momentary established the band as one to watch in the new wave of heavy shoegaze, and ‘Broken Glass’ pushes that momentum further.

Originally a shelved demo, ‘Broken Glass’ came to life after new drum and bass parts lit a fire under the track, transforming it into a setlist staple almost overnight. Leaning harder into their emo roots, the band challenged genre norms on this one:

“We’ve grown a little bored of the classic soft shoegaze vocals,” says the band. “With ‘Broken Glass,’ we wanted something more pushy and hooky—a big chorus that hits just as hard as the guitars.”

The accompanying music video, directed by longtime friend Diego Guardado, captures the band’s raw live energy in an unpolished, visceral way. Shot in a small, sweaty LA room—while an island-themed church service played loudly (and out of tune) next door—the DIY spirit of the video reflects Distressor’s independent ethos:

“Even though music videos aren’t as popular anymore, we still love making them,” the band explains. “This one was nothing fancy—just us, some friends, a few Modelos, and a lot of sweat.”

With ‘Broken Glass’, Distressor continues to evolve beyond nostalgia, pushing shoegaze into modern, emotionally honest territory while staying true to their roots.

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Photo: Samuel David Katz

Metropolis Records – 8th August 2025

Christopher Nosnibor

The singles released ahead of the album did their job, at least for me, in the way it used to happen in the pre-Internet days, when you’d hear a single or two on the radio, and you’d get hyped for the album.

Half the time, the singles were the only tracks that were any good, but the other half of the time, the singles would actually prove to be representative and stand in a solid set of songs.

In this instance, the title resonated early. Perhaps it’s an age thing. In my 30s, I witnessed many of my peers somehow pass into middle-age overnight, bemoaning that there’s no good music anymore, how things aren’t how they were when they were between the ages of 16 to 21, how everything’s shit now and the nostalgia-wallowing would grow deeper with every beer consumed. As I approach fifty, it’s only got worse: many of us have teenage kids, and many of them go on about how the music their kids listen to is shit, it’s just noise, how their kids stay in bed till lunchtime at weekends and on school holidays, and so on. It’s as if the grind of the day-job and family life has erased their memories of what it was actually like being a teenager. It’s broadly true that people become more conservative as they grow older, and, despite the vehement intentions stated in youth, they become their parents, one way or another, perpetuating the same mistakes, while blaming their parents for the fact. This is but one example of the way people do have a tendency to become the thing they hated, but one which is close to my heart.

Right now, the world is almost unrecognisable from the one I grew up in, but instead of fighting the system and pushing for positive change and a more just society, greed, division, and hate have become evermore ingrained.

They open in grand style, with a smouldering six-minute epic in the form of piano-led ‘All Tomorrows’, which builds slowly and creates an air of wistfulness, of reflection, before hitting a solid upbeat dance groove. But as it ends, tomorrow is marked by departure, ending, alone. Across the course of fourteen songs, Rotersand explore the human condition in all its complexity, all the while dusting solid dancefloor-friendly tunes with a deep melancholy, their dark electropop leaning towards more industrial dance at times, as on ‘Father Ocean’, and ‘Watch Me’ particularly mines that late 80s / early 90s Wax Trax! vibe – while the use of autotune and the overall production firmly roots it in Europop territory. Elsewhere, ‘I Will Find You’ rolls up the entirety of electropop circa 1983-85 into a magnificently crisp four and a half minutes.

Unusually, the singles are both to be found in the second half of the album, but this is perhaps an indication of the consistency and depth of the material: while many albums suffer from a second-half slump, Don’t Become the Thing You Hated gets harder and more intense in the final third. ‘Private Firmament’ is a clear standout when it comes to dark intensity.

And so it is that Don’t Become the Thing You Hated is something of a caution, a reminder, a note to self, and it’s heavy with simmering anger – anger and twisted emotions directed in all directions, far and wide outward, and inwards, too. ‘Click Scroll tap Believe ‘ is a particularly taut listening experience and succinctly summarises life in the contemporary climate: ‘Technology the new religion / The lines between us are wearing thin’ may not be the pinnacle of poeticism, but it hits home. And that, really is the strength of Don’t Become the Thing You Hated: Rotersand zone in and hit their targets with a rare accuracy, again, and again.

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Leeds collective HONESTY have shared a brand new track titled ‘PUSHING UP DAISIES’. George Mitchell takes lead vocal duties, delivering a gentle, intimate performance that contrasts the song’s morbid subject matter. The result is a subtly exhilarating take on club music that’s become HONESTY’s signature and the reason they’re one of the most essential dance acts coming out of the UK. The track was released today in tandem with ‘MEASURE ME (ALT MIX),’ which injects even more rave-fueled vitality into the lead single from their debut album which came out this Feb, this time led by an ethereal performance from vocalist Imi Marston. Listen here:

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HONESTY (Credit Dan Commons)

Dragon’s Eye Recordings  – 22nd August 2025

Christopher Nosnibor

A year on from my review of Yorkshire Modular Society’s Fiery Angels Fell, I find myself presented with another release of theirs on LA label Dragon’s Eye Recordings, and I can’t help but contemplate the circuitous routes by which music travels, since the release landed in my inbox courtesy of a PR based in Berlin – while no-one in my sphere of acquaintance, which includes a broad swathe of electronic artists around York and, indeed Yorkshire as it spreads in all directions – appears to have even the first inkling of the existence of YMS, despite their connection to Todmorden. But then, I often observe that what holds a lot of acts back is confinement to being ‘local’, and it’s a lack of vision, or ambition – or, occasionally, practical matters – which prevent them from reaching the national, or international, audience they deserve.

Yorkshire Modular Society clearly have an audience, and it’s not going to be found at pub gigs in their native county. This is true of most experimental artists: there’s no shortage of interest in niche work globally, but it’s thinly spread. There are places, predominantly across mainland Europe, and like Café Oto, which cater to such tastes, but they’re few and far between, which explains why most such projects tend to be more orientated towards the recording and release of their output, their audience growing nebulously, more often than not by association and word of mouth.

This release – which is the first collaborative album from Yorkshire Modular Society with Peter Digby Lee – could only ever really be a download. With ‘a suite of four ambient compositions shaped by intuition, ritual, and shared resonance’, it’s over two hours in duration, giving recent Swans a run in terms of epic.

The story goers that ‘The artists first crossed paths not through conversation, but through shared vibration — at the resonance Drone Bath in Todmorden. A quiet alignment. Some time later, Peter sent over a treasure trove of sound: samples he had recorded and collected over many years — textures, fragments, and moments suspended in time. From this archive, Dominick Schofield (Yorkshire Modular Society) began to listen, to loop, to stretch, to shape… What followed was a process of intuitive composition—letting the materials speak, revealing what had been buried in the dust and hum. This album is the result: four pieces, each unfolding from the source material with care and curiosity, a shared language spoken in tone, breath, and resonance.’

The title track is soft, gentle, sweeping, lilting, serene, floating in on picked strings, trilling woodwind and it all floats on a breeze of mellifluousness, cloud-like, its forms ever-shifting, impossible to solidify. With hints of Japanese influence and slow-swelling post-rock, it’s ambient, but also busy, layered, textured, thick, even, the musical equivalent of high humidity. It moves, endlessly, but the breezy feel is countered by a density which leaves the listener panting for air. The sound warps and wefts in such a way as to be a little uncomfortable around the region of the lower stomach after a time, like being on a boat which rocks slowly from side to side. ‘Beneath the Hanging Sky’ lays for almost thirty-six minutes, and it’s far from soothing, and as a consequence, I find myself feeling quite keyed up by the arrival of ‘Glass Lung’, another soundscape which stretches out for a full half-hour. This is more conventionally ambient, softer, more abstract, but follows a similar pattern of a slow rise and fall, an ebb and flow. Here, the application is emollient, sedative. I find myself yawning, not out of boredom, but from relaxation, something I don’t do often enough. And so it is that this slow-drifting sonic expanse takes things down a couple of notches. You may find yourself zoning out, your eyes drooping… and it’s to the good. Stimulation is very clearly not the objective here.

Third track, ‘Echo for the Unseen’, is the album’s shortest by some way, at a mere twenty-two minutes in length. It’s also darker, dense, more intense than anything which has preceded it, and as ambient as it ss, the eternal drones are reminiscent of recent both latter day Swans, and Sunn O)). The epic drone swells and surges, but mostly simmers, the droning growing more sonorous as it rolls and yawns wider as the track progress. There are harsher top-end tones drilling away in the mix as the track progresses. It makes for a long and weighty twenty-two minutes, and we feel as if we’re crawling our way to the closer, ‘Spiral of Breath’, which arrives on a heavy swirling drone that’s darkly atmospheric and big on the low-end. Instead of offering levity, ‘Spiral of Breath’ is the densest, darkest piece of the four, as well as the longest. With no lulls, no calm spells, no respite, it’s the most challenging track of the release. It’s suffocating. There is no respite. There is, however, endless depth, and eternal, purgatorial anguish.

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The Lunar Effect were formed in London in 2017 by brothers Jon and Dan Jefford and later completed by vocalist Josh Neuwford, bassist Brett Halsey, and eventually second guitarist Mark Fuller. Since their arrival on the scene, they’ve carved out a reputation for crafting music that feels both familiar and original – a modern echo of grunge-soaked ’70s rock, fuzzed-out blues, and melancholic British soul.

Following the underground success of 2019’s Calm Before the Calm, the band signed with Svart Records and released the critically praised sophomore album Sounds of Green & Blue in 2024. After touring the album across the UK and Europe, they set their sights on album three, their most ambitious work to date. Fortune’s Always Hiding lands in October 2025; a brooding journey through loss, memory, and the weight of time. It marks a new era for the band – deeper, stranger, and more soul-baring than ever.

The first taste from the upcoming album was released today. “’Feed the Hand’ sets the tone for what’s to come, uncomfortable, deliberate, and heavy with implication. It reaches back with one hand, grabbing a handful of early 90’s alternative nostalgia to bring a high energy groove. With the other, it drags the listener through an unravelling; guidance twisted into obedience, time eroding memory from a feeling to a realisation. There’s weight here, but it’s not theatrical. It’s cathartic and satisfyingly powerful. A quiet reckoning fed by the band’s influences, serving up a whole new dish to the table.” the band comments on the new single. Watch the video for ‘Feed the Hand’:

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Christopher Nosnibor

The third Utterly Fuzzled event boasts another strong lineup, with a mix of out of town talent, the cream of the crop from York, plus new and emerging acts. It seems wholly fitting that they’ve found Fulfordgate WMC as a home for these events. One might describe it as quaint, but it has everything you’d want for a DIY musical microscene – stage, PA, cheap beer, a little way off the beaten track but still accessible from the city centre – and some things which are harder to define. A sense of community, and quintessentially northern, unpretentious.

I recently finished reading Sleevenotes by Joe Thompson of Hey Colossus and Henry Blacker – which is, hands-down, the best book about being in a DIY / small band, and I cannot recommend it enough. So many of the observations on the DIY scene resonated with me as an attendee – and occasional performer – at venues which are rehearsal rooms, rooms upstairs or at the back of pubs, gigs where there are fifteen people in attendance, and eleven of those are the other bands. He writes of playing these spaces, some with capacities of fifty, and being grateful that anyone turns up at all, about how they all have day jobs and make music because… because, and not with any hope of making money – covering costs to pay for the petrol back is winning.

On my way out, JUKU’s Dan Gott asked if I would be doing a review, and expressed disappointment when I said I would be. He said he wanted me to just enjoy a gig. But just as for makers of music, making music is a compulsion, so is writing for me. As much as I assess and analyse, this project, or whatever it is, is ultimately a document – an ever-evolving document, a diary of sorts. Just as Hey Colossus have been ploughing their furrow for an eternity – or since 2003 – so I’ve been a heavy gig-goer for many years. I can’t remember everything. But I can document it.

Dragged Up are one of those acts who clearly aren’t in it for the money. I’ve covered a few of their releases, and on seeing that they were making the trip from Glasgow to play this humble venue was immediately buzzed. I suppose something about straddling being press and a music fan, and having a Facebook network largely made up of people in the same circles, it’s not always easy to maintain perspective when it comes to a band’s status. There’s an element of ‘wow, are they really playing this little place?’ – and then you’re faced with the fact that any band that’s big in your world isn’t necessarily big in the wider world. It goes both ways, of course: there are bands I’ve never heard of selling out O2 venues and bigger.

The first act on the bill is so new and emerging that they didn’t even have a name until about a week before the event, and so suffice to say that Chaffinch were an entirely unknown quantity. It transpires that they’re a new permutation of Knitting Circle, a band centred around Jo and Pete Dale, who also happen to be the movers behind Utterly Fuzzled events. Tjeir set is clearly a work in progress – Jo confessed that the lyrics to one of the songs, on a sheet of paper in front of her, had only been completed that morning. But they show great potential. As my cursory notes attest, there’s ‘jangle, post-punk, angular, Band of Susans riffiness, elsewhere more 80s indie, a bit Wedding Present. Mathy dynamics. Interesting and a very promising first outing.’ It’s a fair summary that requires little expansion.

Pea Sea is a singer/songwriter whose set is a mixed bag of rearranged traditional folk songs, and quirky narrative led indie tunes, even incorporating bossa nova rhythms, and some quite nice blues, too. It’s kinda ramshackle, and inherently Scottish, and it’s entertaining enough, although I’m not sure if it’s because of or in spite of the bad puns and awkward chat and spaces between songs.

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Pea Sea

I was already down for this the second I saw Dragged Up were coming to York, but the addition of JUKU to the bill absolutely made it. I’ve been banging on about them since their debut gig. And still, some of my mates who’d come down tonight seemed perplexed as to why they hadn’t seen them, as their brand of punk rock played hard and fast and at blistering volume absolutely blew them away. My mates should pay more attention to my reviews, I say. Suffice it to say, JUKU were fucking blistering. Naomi is kinda nonchalant but also goes hard, and there’s the constant worry as to whether the mic stand will fall over or her glasses will slip off her face (in the end, by some miracle, neither) and Dan wrings noise from his guitar with clenched tattooed fists, hunched over so low his forehead is practically scraping his strings. It’s primitive, four-chord punk cranked up to eleven, and they play so, so hard. This is a band that destroys every stage it sets foot on. They need to be on a label. They need to go national, international. Live acts don’t come better than this.

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Consequently, Dragged Up perhaps suffer from having to follow JUKU. They’re decent, though, and no mistake. But venturing out with their new bassist, things feel a bit tentative at times I’m too into the set to make many notes. I’ve hashed together some observations on how they’re masters of post-Fall post-Pavement ramshackle indie, and how their songs chime and crash with strolling bass and shuffling drums.

New single ‘Clachan Dubh’ lands around mid-set with its chunky, chuggy driving groove driven by thick bass and energetic drums, and they swing between succinct killer blasts and sprawling beasts led by thumping grooved and manifold swerves and detours.

It’s hard to tell if they’re not quite firing on all cylinders or if this is simply the way pf Dragged Up, and it’s likely a bit of both. But there’s no question that they simply do their thing and don’t really give a crap, and the attitude is worth all the applause and plaudits alone.

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Dragged Up are one of those bands who don’t even have a game to raise most of the time. They play their songs. They have some good songs, and people take notice.

It’s a tidy/messy end to a night of solid quality.

UK industrial metal project, BEAUTIFUL FREAKIN’ WEIRDO recently dropped the video for their single, ‘Psychohead’.  The track appears on their latest EP, Zap The Fear.

‘Psychohead’ dives head-first into escapism, away from this world of fear in which we are all manipulated and controlled. “I think most, if not all, people have a little psycho in them,” founding member, Mick Pritchard says. “Your alter ego, your dark side, call it what you will. Take the red pill. Take the blue pill and all placebos. Good luck!”

‘Psychohead’ is a tale of sleepwalking into the abyss of smoke and mirrors – into a world controlled by fear because there isn’t a “Hell”. Hell is here. This is where you take the red pill just to try and kill your savage alter ego – the Psycho in your head.

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