Archive for the ‘Albums’ Category

Zabus – Avoidance Moon

Posted: 21 February 2026 in Albums, Reviews
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24th February 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

Jeremy Moore – aka Zabus – continues his phenomenal creative run with the release of Avoidance Moon, another wildly inventive melding of myriad forms. And with Avoidance Moon, Moore pushes the established elements of the Zabus sound still further, cranking up the distortion and reverb to insane levels. It’s gothic, but it goes beyond. The theatricality is off the scale, but the feel is also very, very old school, and while it evokes the spirit of Dance Society and early X-Mal Deutschland and the like, it also calls to mind early Christian Death, and The Damned, with a bit of The Jesus and Mary Chain tossed into the blender for extra feedback spice.

The title track, which opens the album, is sparse and lo-fi, as quavering analogue synths hover their way through a crashing tube-crunched guitar, the gruff vocal and extraneous noise which runs in the background all bouncing around in a cavernous reverb with additional layers of murk. But something about it carries a certain, indefinable emotional resonance.

‘Theoretical Jesus’ brings reverb-soaked shoegaze and thunderous percussion – and splintering discord in the vein of A Place to Bury Strangers. Elsewhere, the heavy vibe with all the reverb is reminiscent of Modern Technology, perhaps because the baritone vocals share a common ground, too.

Avoidance Moon presents an uncompromising sonic swamp: on ‘Baited Idyll’, the thick, murky sound is cut through by the sharpest cymbal splashes, harsh treble clashes which strike like blades. ‘Punishment to Extinction’ melts together the warping wall of noise of My Bloody Valentine with the drama of Nick Cave: amidst the chaos, Moore casts his dark, theatrical incantations.

Avoidance Moon is a riot of late 70s / early 80s post punk, dark, attacking, dingy, lo-fi, analogue to the end. It’s likely too primitive for many ears, but it’s precisely the primitive nature of it all that appeals. So many acts pretend to draw inspiration from post-punk, but Zabus lives it. Avoidance Moon, then, is dense, suffocating, intense.

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Autistici – Familiarity Unfolded

Posted: 19 February 2026 in Albums, Reviews
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Audiobulb – 7th March 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

Sometimes, an album packs in so much into a limited space that unpacking it presents itself as a major task – which in turn leads to the question of whether or not the process of unpacking is integral to the appreciation of the work. This is true of much art, beyond music. Is it essential to be familiar with the concept and the story of its creation to appreciate a painting. This is not in any way to devalue or diminish the context, but equally, a work should be able to stand by itself.

Autistici’s biography is in itself a work of abstraction, which tells us little about the artist and more about their vision of art, and cursory attempts to find further detail are scuppered by a swathe of search results about autism and anticapitalism. So to focus on what we do know rather than to vanish down yet another rabbit-hole of research, Familiarity Unfolded follows Familiarity Folded and Familiarity Enfolded to conclude a collaborative trilogy, which on this instalment features Datewithdeath, Jacek Doroszenko, Ümlaut, Distant Fires Burning, and Neuro… No Neuro.

‘2.25 Degrees of Internalisation’, which opens the album is dense and droney to begin with, but soon fragments into something that’s altogether more glitchy and jangly, electronic pulsations creating an ebb and flow of fractured robotics, stutters and echoes. ‘Grusch’s Biologics’, which sees Autistici come together with Datewithdeath is spacious, abstract and ambient in the background, with smooth, sedate bass notes filling out the sound, but with the foreground littered with all kinds of drifting debris, pops and pings. It feels like navigating the tranquillity of zero gravity while swerving space junk – the contrast between the calm emptiness with unpredictable clutter.

‘Scarlar (E-dit) with Distant Fires Burning’ serves up some squelchy analogue synth-driven Krautrock, the likes of which is easy to get lost in, particularly over the course of almost six motorik minutes, before ‘My Modal Realism’, created in collaboration with Jacek Doroszenko ventures into territory which could almost be considered dance… It’s by no means a bomp-bomp-bomp club banger, but with its looped vocal sample and spaced-out synth grooves, it very much incorporates elements of both trance and trip-hop. With Neuro… No Neuro, ‘We Melt Clouds’ is clicky, clatterly, an exercise in abstraction and microtonalism, the sound of beetles tap-dancing alongside bent piano notes and clouds racing past on a buoyant breeze. It’s noting if not imaginative and wide-ranging, and the album’s final piece – the twelve-minute epic that is ‘Subliminal Selves’, with Ümlaut is a microscopic textural exploration, the sonic equivalent of scrutinising cells dividing under a microscope.

The range of electronic experiments on Familiarity Unfolded is admirable – and experiments are the real emphasis here. Done differently, this could have been a far more accessible, commercial album. But this is not what Autistici is about – and so, instead, we get a diverse range of weirdness. Cue applause for art over plays.

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Smag På Dig Selv – This Is Why We Lost

Posted: 17 February 2026 in Albums, Reviews
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Stunt Records – 6th March 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

Well, this is a conundrum. This Is Why We Lost is the second album by Danish trio Smag På Dig Selv is pitched as a work which ‘shatter[s] the boundaries of electronic music’, and was made with the ambition ‘to create music that can exist within a trance or club-oriented setting, while still carrying a strong melodic and narrative arc’. Only, the band lineup consists of two saxophonists and one drummer, while single cut ‘Vik’s Rawcore’ features vibraphonist Viktoria Søndergaard. No arguing that it’s an intriguing, even exciting proposition, but can it really ‘shatter the boundaries of electronic music’? Or does it instead take acoustic music into new territories?

I’ll admit that I’m not mad keen on conventional ‘club’ music – no doubt a revelation which will come as a shock to many – but then perhaps I’ve never been to any decent clubs. It may seem perverse that I like noise and drone but find bangin’ choonz insufferable. This Is Why We Lost is built on techno / electronic tropes with insistent beats and some throbbing basslines – the second half of the album’s first track, ‘Like A Word I Never Knew’ goes full drum ‘n’ bass… and sax. For atop the frenetic fills and frenzied rhythm, not to mention the pulsating bass – whatever instrument is responsible for that – there are some strong jazz currents.

‘Let’s Go!’ is a slab of lively Europop / EDM, while ‘Vik’s Rawcore’ is full-on HI-NRG stomper – albeit with a mellow breakdown in the mid-section which prefaces the inevitable build before the beat drops again.

There’s no question that this is technically (or techno-ichally, if I’m up for deploying a shit pun) accomplished and innovative, and while AI is insidiously creeping its way and hollowing out the arts at a devastating rate, it’s refreshing to find an act which turns the tables, instead using acoustic instruments to create sounds associated with electronic music. The fact musicians and artists in all fields are embracing AI is bewildering. Why? Just why? The creative process is what makes the work of creativity, learning new techniques and ways to articulate the contents of the mind via any given medium. When I write, as much as delving for words and scouring a Thesaurus may at times be painstaking, this is precisely what it’s all about. The fundamental purpose of art is to convey the complexities of the human condition. To remove the human element from the art is to remove its very heart and any sense of feeling. AI is not art, it’s entertainment plagiarised from all preceding art. Fuck that.

Smag På Dig Selv aren’t the only ones using conventional, acoustic instrumentation in unconventional ways: Jo Quail is very much striking forth in new territories in forging immensely powerful ‘(post-)rock’ music with solo cello (aided by effects and a loop pedal), but what they’re doing is rather different.

‘Ya Tal3een’, featuring Luna Ersahin is altogether different, a stirring, primal folk composition led by an immensely powerful vocal performance, is more reminiscent of the earthy works of Wardruna, evoking vast expanses of woodland and rugged mountains. Elsewhere, the title track manifests as a thick, textured drone, an ambient piece which forms shapes as it evolves, but sounds more like strings, organ, synths, than any of the instruments listed. There’s a fleeting moment of melody which reminds me of something else, too, but it eludes me. ‘Fitness Bro’ amuses with its hyperkinetic energy, the pulsating groove – topped with big sax action – evokes fast treadmills and rapid reps, pumping biceps and perspiration. It also call to mind that brief moment in the early 80s when post-punk acts embraced saxophone, extending the initiative of The Psychedelic Furs and Theatre of Hate.

‘Jeg Ved Ikke Hvad Jed Siger’ swings into dark hip-hop territory, and it’s cool, unlike the happy hardcore of ‘Hits 4 Kids Vol. 3000’, complete with whistles and samples. Just no. It may not be quite as bad as Scooter, but there really is no need for this.

And perhaps THIS is why we lost. The album has some strong moments – many, in fact and they’re solid, too, showcasing a rare creativity, and an approach to composition that’s postmodernism turned up eleven… or thereabouts. I’m personally very much on the fence with this one, since it’s 50% mind-blowing and 50% Europop mediocrity. It certainly has its moments, and will likely to appeal to most, at least at some time.

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Lung – Fog

Posted: 16 February 2026 in Albums, Reviews
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Yellow Bike Records – 24th January 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

There’s quite a unique pleasure in learning of a new release by a band you assumed had called it a day long ago – and perhaps did. It’s even sweeter when it’s a band you really dig. And so it is that New Zealand noisemongers Lung have a new album out. It’s taken a while to percolate through to me – which isn’t entirely surprising given that they’re little-known even domestically, let alone on the opposite side of the world.

For context on a personal level, I first encountered Lung in 1992, playing in the upstairs room at The Duke of Wellington in Lincoln. This was before the city had a university or any dedicated venues, meaning proper gigs, were fairly rare. I’d have been sixteen. They were supporting some goth act – possibly Children of a Lesser Groove. Their drummer had experienced visa troubles or something, so they had a stand-in – and they blew me away. I recall them not only being pretty heavy and intense, but also devastatingly loud. When my dad came to pick me up, I had him bring money (I’d spent what little I’d taken on vodka, because it was still possible to get served without ID if you looked like you might be 18), and legged it back into the venue to raid the merch stall, taking home debut album Cactii on CD and the 7” single, ‘Swing’.

A year or so later, I practically creamed my pants on finding 3 Heads on a Plate on vinyl in Track Records in York: I simply had no idea of its existence. This was a long way pre-Internet, and they weren’t the kind of band who would be getting acres of coverage in Melody Maker or NME. I still have all three of these releases, and they still get played, too. These albums have a raw, visceral quality, and a seething darkness pervades them.

Consequently, I was beyond excited to learn about Fog (and during the course of my research for this review to learn of two more albums, released in 2022 and 2024)

Described by founder and frontman, Dave White, as their “most raw, fucked up, brutal, honest work to date”, and “possibly the most punk we’ve become”, Fog was recorded over just two days at The Surgery in Newtown, Wellington, with producer Lee Prebble at the helm, and explores more overtly the underlying punk roots of the band’s core influences.

White isn’t wrong, but it hits like a body slam with opener ‘Isolated Gun’, a thick, sludgy and seriously radical reworking of ‘She’s Got a Gun’ from Cactii where the squally, spindly lead guitar of the original is replaced by a full-on face-melting wall of noise that’s nothing short of devastating. It sets the tone for the album’s twelve tracks, too – and reminds me of that show back in ’92 when they were absolutely pulverising in volume and density. The production here conveys that volume, that grainy, gnarly, low-slung guitar filth. On Fog, not only have Lung lost none of their intensity, but they seem to have channelled years of pent-up rage into a most furious document of everything they were ever about.

The raucous laughter at the end of ‘eXtra Spank’ shows they’ve lost none of their warped humour, but then the album immediately rips into ‘Blue Ai’, a savage roar of noise, which in turn sounds tame besides the raging blitzkrieg of ‘Recycle Man’, and the snarling, gnarly ‘Panda’ is not pretty. ‘Firestarter’ is not a cover, but it is overloading, distorted, riffy and incendiary, with a skin-shredding bass ripping through the bone-breaking climax.

‘TR-UNT’ finds them venturing into the crossover territory of squalling industrial and black metal territory – and gritty noise, the drums being straight up attack, evoking the spirit of Fudge Tunnel, and after the delicate interlude of ‘No Idea Yet’, they conclude the album with the rackatacius ‘Deaf in Both Ears’. It’s nothing short of a guitar-driven blitzkrieg, and Lung at their best.

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Coaxial – Redux Media

Posted: 12 February 2026 in Albums, Reviews
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Cruel Nature Records – 6th February 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

It may be a ‘me’ issue that when an artist suddenly hits the world with a blunderbuss blast of output, I feel somewhat overwhelmed. There are some acts I know I like which I’ve simply avoided because of not knowing where to start. Overfaced is the word: a term I discovered perhaps in my early teens when presented with a large roast dinner. The sheer amount of food in front of me instantly killed my appetite, to the point that I felt queasy and, not knowing where to start, felt incapable of starting, meaning that I would fold before I’d barely consumed a forkful.

While I did manage to ease myself into The Fall after dipping a toe, I very much feel this way about the likes of Merzbow, among others, and, to a lesser extent, the Melvins – and the specific reason I come to them is because of their early 00s trilogy, when they cranked out The Maggot, The Crybaby, and The Bootlicker on top of one another. Ben Heal, aka Coaxial has truly splurged with his output this year, as Redux Trilogy is not even the total. My head swam. The prospect of listening to, and reviewing, three albums in one session, for one piece… No. Just no.

Having stepped back and broken things down to more bitesize chunks, I have come to Redux Media, which is in fact the second of the trilogy, first. This feels reasonable, since this is set of releases is sold as ‘a triptych of cassette releases conceived as a recombinatory system rather than linear statement’. I will return to the other releases in due course, but for now and content to dabble.

The seven tracks on Redux Media are soft, squelchy, electronic and experimental. ‘Onyaxial’ lifts the lid on the set with a bibbling, bubbling stroll that sits in the space between minimal techno and the pulsating grooves of Kraftwerk. It bends and warps a bit, and there’s some weird shit going on near the end as it battles with its own identity, but this is the very essence of this release – it’s about the exploratory, about swimming out of the lanes and venturing wherever the mood takes.

‘Tryxxial’ is mellow, an 80s drum machine sound plodding along while keyboard sounds trill along, mixing all shades of electronic action with no suggestion of a conclusion, and rightly, with the wonky babbling of ‘Peswyx’. ‘Pymediax’ wanders into eighties electropop, but without vocals, and it’s more DAF than Depeche Mode.

In the main, it’s entertaining, and despite the overarching connotations of seriousness, it’s quite good fun. Redux Media finds Ben Heal venturing every which way and drilling deep into different dimensions.

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Stephen O’Malley – Spheres Collapser

Posted: 12 February 2026 in Albums, Reviews
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XKatedral / La Becque Editions – 27th February 2027

Christopher Nosnibor

Not content with the completion of the first new Sunn O))) album since 2014, set for release in the spring on Sub Pop, co-founder Stephen O’Malley has been busy working on a new solo album, which will appear as a rather more low-key (if not necessarily low-frequency) release a couple of months before. Historically, one might have expected this release to have been put out through Ideologic Organ, but then again, when it comes to his solo and collaborative releases, O’Malley operates very much with within the milieu of the experimental artists and labels based in mainland Europe, as his collaboration with François J Bonnet, released in 2021 on Editions Mego evidences.

And while this is billed as an O’Malley solo album, this too is a collaborative work, featuring as it does ‘two long-form compositions for pipe organ by Stephen O’Malley, which he performs alongside the celebrated organist Kali Malone and Frederikke Hoffmeier (Puce Mary)’.

There is something grand and powerful about the pipe organ, the sound of which is capable of stirring something – if not primal, then deep-seated in the emotional psyche. Creating a vast, reverberating sound, it’s capable of triggering something beyond verbal articulation. And for this release, O’Malley found some remarkable organs, and around Christmas 2021 recorded some immense drones on Les Grandes Orgues (Scherrer (1777), Walker (1867), Kuhn (1995)) at Église Saint-François, Lausanne, Switzerland. It seems that this album emerged as a detour from another project, but why not make the most of a recording opportunity?

And so it is that Spheres Collapser consists of two longform pieces, each around twenty-five minutes in length, whereby little happens beyond textural and tonal shifts. It drags heavy, an does so without apology. Rightly do: why should there be any concession here?

There are sounds which are immediately identifiable as emanating from a pipe organ, and then again there are others, which are not always immediately apparent on Spheres Collapser: instead, there is simply the sound of low, swelling, drone. The organ-led nature of the recording only becomes apparent to the ear midway through ‘Phase I Organ’, when the trilling, tremulous tones come to the fore. Twenty minutes in, there are treblesome quiverings which begin to trouble the earsdrums as the sound narrows and becomes more niggling in its nature. But the exploratory nature of this album is what it’s all about, and O’Malley is truly a master when it comes to drawing different kinds of drone from instruments.

‘Phase II Organ’ presents twenty-two minutes of continuous drone, which commences low, resonant, with a comparatively pacey undulation, before a bassier note enters the mix. But still that low drone continues on… and on… and on… Some may pin this as Sunn O))) but on organ, and that summary wouldn’t be entirely wide of the mark. What else would you expect, really? And then the track simply drones out to the end.

What to say of this release? Drones are what they are: immersive, the sound of freedom, in a sense. The sound of escapism, of freedom, of breaking free of the constraints of the now. Spheres Collapser is heavy, dense, suffocating. You feel the air seep front your lungs as the notes merge in a thick, penetrating polyphony, ultimately tapering to a single sustain which feels like an eternity. Somehow, it’s strangely draining, but exhilarating at the same time.

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A-Sun Amissa & Lauren Mason – Water Scores

Posted: 11 February 2026 in Albums, Reviews
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Gizeh Records – 27th February 2026

Both A-Sun Amissa and Gizeh Records have sustained their existences while hovering just below the radar, and while it may not be the ideal position in terms of financials, in terms of creative freedom, it undoubtedly has its benefits. Home to the myriad projects centred around label founder Richard Knox, in its early days, Gizeh released the first mini-album by Her Name is Calla. Ever since its inception, the label has devoted itself to quality, and a focus on acts it has close artistic ties with. Featuring both Richard Knox and Claie Knox, A-Sun Amissa meets both criteria.

A-Sun Amissa’s meeting with Lauren Mason – maker of ‘dark and experimental poetics’ is a perfect coming together of sound and word – although as the former bassist and lyricist with the much-missed Torpor, Mason is in her element here, weaving poetry with some dense, dark sounds. Mason’s input ‘explores the curses of corporate extraction and pollution on our planet’s water, and listens in, as water speaks back. Mason is best known as bassist with now-defunct existential sludge band Torpor, where she often wove her spoken word pieces through heavy soundscapes. She has been developing her poetic practice for many years and published her first book Rust Canyon in 2025’.

A-Sun Amissa may not bring the same pulverising weight of Torpor by way of musical accompaniment, but they do create a dark, suffocatingly dense, swirling drone that reverberates around the body in a way which is as physical as it is mental or psychological.

Water Scores takes the form of a single, continuous piece, almost forty minutes in length. It begins with sparse, low, rumblings, subsonic, tectonic drones, and Mason’s words are placed prominent, above this accompaniment. Her tone is even, her delivery clear: the scenes she depicts laying bare the ecological crisis which defines our times.

Her calmness and poise is admirable: in recent years, I’ve personally struggled to maintain a level head in the face of this. In fact, I’ve found it increasingly difficult to articulate. The world is simply overwhelming, and as AI trends of action figures and caricatures, nudifications on X swamp social media, the rivers and lakes are being drained in order to facilitate this – the most insidious datamining operation vaguely disguised as the most puerile, facile shit to have ever swept the globe like a plague. Instead of whooping ‘hell yeah, this is fun’, more people should be screaming ‘this is destroying the planet!’. It’s also diminishing the collective mental capacity at an alarming rate.

Mason skips gently through evolution, celebrates the salmon and the plankton, the things we take for granted on so many levels.

By the eighteen-minute mark, her words are being buffeted amidst a swell of extraneous noise and surging feedback: the ambient drift which lifted the curtain on the album has evolved to a vast blast of sound which is nothing short of an immersive assault on the senses… and it builds, steely walls of sound, sonorous scrapes and howling feedback combining to affect a cranial compression, and as Mason’s words are increasingly submerged beneath this squalling tidal wave of devastating noise, you feel yourself carried away.

From the half-hour mark, the vocals rise again to the fore, being battling against a thunderous cacophony of noise, wails of feedback and a relentless churn which registers in the gut, and registers in the ribs. It’s not pleasant or easy: this is difficult, grey noise. But the detail… the detail makes it. Water Scores is rich in detail, and some may find the level of this difficult to process. But spend some time… this is an album which takes time.

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Harry Christelis – Preserving Fictions

Posted: 8 February 2026 in Albums, Reviews
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Clonmell Jazz Social – 13th February 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

1984 has never felt more relevant. In the early chapters, Winston is shown rewriting history, in the form of news articles – something which has become a defining feature of the Trump Administration of late. The quotation ‘The Party told you to ignore the evidence of your eyes and ears. It was their final, most essential command’ has been all over social media in recent weeks. Because we live in a time when a woman in her car calmly saying ‘I’m not mad’, or a medic shielding a woman from assault, can be murdered by the state, the event filmed and broadcast from many angles, and reported as being ‘domestic terrorists’. When news reportage becomes outlandish fiction, there’s a problem of unspeakable proportion. And so it’s become the objective of the media wings of governments – those of America, if Israel, of ours here in England – to preserve fictions and mask facts for their own propagandist, gaslighting ends.

Harry Christelis – whose latest offering features Christos Stylianides (trumpet/effects), Andrea Di Biase (bass/synth) and Dave Storey (drums) – is not seeking to propagate propaganda here, but simply to explore sonic territories, with a album of ‘post-jazz, ambient and folk-inflected improv’, which ‘captures a deep collective instinct – reflective, spontaneous, and richly atmospheric…’ Christelis explains that “in the creative process — as in life — there is never true certainty, never a ‘right way.’ These are simply fictions we hold onto. This realisation inspired the title Preserving Fictions: a reminder to stay present with whatever comes, grateful for each lesson, knowing that something new may be just around the corner, waiting to turn that on its head.”

The album launches with the longest track, the nine-minute ‘Blues of the Birds’, which is, at heart, an ebb-and-flow ambient composition… but then there’s clattering percussion and waves and wisps flittering skywards, before, around the mid-point, it settles into a smooth, strolling, settled feel. Nice. And all that.

The spontaneous nature of the way this album was created is perhaps one of the reasons behind the broad spectrum of the pieces which it comprises, and it’s worth noting that Miles Davis and Talk Talk are cited as central influences, in that they become more apparent once you’re aware of this fact, which roots what is, on first hearing, a nebulous, meandering work. Not that it isn’t nebulous or meandering, or that these are bad things, but there is a solid contextual framework in which these pieces sit.

The title of ‘A Sense of Parrot’ is laced with absurdity, but the sonic actuality is a composition which drifts serenely, underpinned by a strolling bass and some nicely loose-wristed percussion, while ‘Wood Dalling’ (named after the Norfolk village in which it was

composed) has something of a post-rock feel, a sepia-tinted nostalgia augmented with gentle woodwind. The percussion-led ‘Djembe’ is fundamentally self-explanatory, and one of the album’s most explicitly jazz pieces.

‘How old are you?’ is a phrase I’ve often used to disparage people – usually in the workplace – over petty or otherwise juvenile or irritating behaviour. Christelis’ piece by the same title doesn’t convey anywhere near the same sense of frustration at human behaviour, but with bowed low notes scraping beneath ambient undulations, while chirps and chatters of wildlife are just audible in the background behind ringing guitar notes and vast reverberations.

The compositions on Preserving Fictions are sedate, and take their time in unfurling, and it’s a welcome alternative to much of the wilder, more frenetic jazz-leaning releases which have come my way of late. It’s not that I dislike them – far from it – but in stressful times, something gentler and somewhat transportive is most welcome. Preserving Fictions fits the bill nicely.

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Legion of Swine – “quiet piggy!”

Posted: 6 February 2026 in Albums, Reviews
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Dret Skivor – 6th February 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

Of Dave Procter’s myriad musical projects, Legion of Swine may not be his most endearing, but it’s certainly his most enduring – a vehicle for noise, often at the harsher end of the spectrum – with a highly political angle, and usually involving some form of porcine pun.

One of the orange fascist’s recent outbursts not only created a stir in the media, but gifted LoS with a title for this latest blast of angry noise. The notes which accompany the release make it clear where his thoughts are right now:

‘Who knows how many times that massive arsehole has his name printed in those files? Will we ever see them un-redacted before he threatens to invade everywhere/nowhere/nuke the planet/shit his pants/get bruised from too much handshaking and other bollocks? The soundtrack to the end of the world? Who knows. Enjoy it while we still can.’

To articulate quite how all of this feels in words is difficult. There’s certainly much anger, but also fear and confusion. Lately, the news has been such that had it been pitched as a plot for a movie, it would have been laughed out the door for being so ridiculously far-fetched. As such, there’s an air of unreality to it all. Is this shit all really happening? At once? And this is why everything is so bewildering. It’s not just the Epstein shit – which is even wilder than the wildest conspiracy theories about global elites – but it’s ICE, it’s bombing Venezuela and kidnapping the president, it’s plotting to turn Gaza into a holiday resort, it’s angling to take Greenland, it’s the rewriting of history, it’s the renaming of things, and the endless stream of outright lies and truly insane ramblings.

“quiet piggy!” is twenty-five and a half minutes of obliterative harsh noise, a relentless sonic blizzard, a solid wall that batters every sense, tearing from the speakers with a force that’s positively physical. It’s like standing in a hurricane, or besides a jet engine. The best way to appreciate this is at high volume, to let the ferocious blast immerse your very being. The effect is, seemingly counterintuitively, quite soothing. Like running a marathon or climbing a mountain, it take the focus away from all of the shit swirling around in the ether and crowding the mind, affording mental relaxation, while blasting away the stress and agitation – at least until you realise that it probably sounds remarkably similar to the detonation of a nuclear bomb.

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PLQ MRX – UPSIDEYERHEAD

Posted: 5 February 2026 in Albums, Reviews
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16th February 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

Holy fuck. Sometimes, you want a racket, because it blows away all the shit, the, the anxiety, the bewilderment, all the other messy crap that is life right now. And I do mean right now: not ‘the twenty-first century’, not the 2020s – although the last five years has been a relentless pummelling of awful, awful stuff – but this is the immediate present we’re looking at here. ‘Unprecedented’ is a word we hear a lot. But we really do live in times which are unprecedented. Waking up every morning wondering what fresh new hell has happened in the hours since you went to bed, wondering if the world still exists and if you have really woken up or if this is all a hellish nightmare is gruelling.

With UPSIDEYERHEAD, PLQ MRX deliver that racket. Their bio tells it that ‘From the depths of North Philadelphia’s underground comes PLQ MRX, a project operating at the intersection of abrasive noise rock, acid-soaked psychedelia, and warped funk’. Say what? We go on to learn that ‘Beyond the music itself, PLQ MRX cultivate an aesthetic steeped in excess, altered states, and grotesque carnival imagery. Their world is populated by surreal characters and exaggerated rituals, exploring pleasure, debauchery, and sensory overload. The band leans into both the highs and the ugly turns of the trip, embracing chaos as a core element of its identity’.

When we discover that PLQ MRX have emerged from ‘the remnants of the Philadelphia collective Plaque Marks, who first surfaced in 2017 with the EP Anxiety Driven Nervous Worship’ and that the current lineup features current and former members of Author & Punisher, UNSANE and SWANS (having been joined by Vinnie Signorelli for this release), it all makes sense.

And yes, it’s every bit as wild as the amalgamation of ‘abrasive noise rock, acid-soaked psychedelia, and warped funk’ would have you expect.

‘Us V. Them’ crashes in with some wild, frenetic jazz action before a thunderous riff crashes in, drums and bass to the fore, guitar a wah-wah laden blitzkrieg that calls to mind The Stooges. The vocals – half-spoken, half-spat, thick with distortion and swamped in reverb, sit almost on another plane, growling and snarling away amidst the maelstrom. Making out the lyrics isn’t easy, but feeling the vibe zaps straight to the very core instantaneously.

There’s a dirty, low-slung swaggering groove to ‘Gansta White Walls’, which locks into a heavy bass-led workout and grinds away, building layers of depth a couple of minutes or so in before hitting the ‘frenzied, motorik’ pedal, while the eight-and-a-half minute ‘Gentrify My Skull’ is a brawling, squalling sludgy stoner doom monster, littered with scrappy samples and as ugly as hell, with mangled-to-fuck vocals and a relentlessly gut-churning bass, and bursting into a full-throttle blast of black metal at the end.

The final track, ‘Hundred Dollar Hot Dog’ is the album’s shortest, but packs the most into a mere three and a half minutes. It really does seem to be a song about an expensive hot dog, and brings the rage in spades, with a lengthy refrain of ‘Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you’ amidst a squall of guitar and an all-pervading dense murk.

It’s rare to hear a release that doesn’t sound like anything else, but with UPSIDEYERHEAD, PLQ MRX have done it. It’s crazed, outside the box racketmongering of the highest order. It might be genius, it might be madness, but it’s absolutely head-spinningly awesome.

AA

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