Posts Tagged ‘Grunge’

Blaggers Records – 13th February 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

Friday 13th may be unlucky for some, but not for JW Paris – or their fans – with the eclectic ‘90s-grunge-meets-Britpop three piece’ dropping new single ‘Crazy’ as an opening salvo ahead of a new EP.

They premiered it at BBC Radio 1’s Big Weekend – a bold move, which takes some guts, but it’s one heck of a way to build anticipation with a massive audience. The power of mainstream radio may not be what it was back in the 80s and 90s – the fragmentation of the mainstream and the way we come to hear music is very different now, and the ubiquity of R1 has been diluted since the Internet reshaped the cultural landscape from around the turn of the millennium onwards, but it’s still the biggest single channel in the UK, with a weekly audience of almost three-quarters of a million. The Big Weekends feature big names and draw massive audiences, and are a big deal.

‘Crazy’ is a tune that’s right at home in this setting, not because it’s insipid churned-out digital chart-pop fodder, but because it is one of those songs that’s an instant grab, a massive, uptempo, singalong anthem that’s got a clear pop sensibility, but all the appeal for indie fans, too.

For those who are willing to go deeper than the immediacy of a huge chorus, the lyrical content is surely relatable to many, too, articulating ‘the madness that comes from repetition… the feeling of running on a treadmill you can’t get off, of doing the same thing over and over until it starts to warp your sense of reality. Built around the classic definition of insanity, the track digs into what happens when your routine becomes a loop, a trap, and eventually… a spiral.’ Who hasn’t been there, at least at some point? Where you wake up, go to work, eat, perhaps slump on the sofa in front of the TV, then sleep, and feel like life is passing you by as you spend weeks, which become months… etc. running just to stay still, merely existing just to keep paying the bills. It sucks. ‘Crazy’ doesn’t suck, though, and despite its subject matter, it’s uplifting and energetic, and it’ll surely make its way to a TV show or soundtrack of some sort soon.

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JW Paris 1 by Xandru

JW Paris by Xandru

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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Christopher Nosnibor

How is this even possible? Four bands – including one from London and one from Sheffield – for SIX QUID, in a venue where decent beer is £5.50 a pint and served in a glass? This is the grassroots venue experience, people. and The Blair Bitch Project are a classic grassroots story, having started out here, at The Fulford Arms, nervous as hell but full of potential, to strutting with confidence and not only launching their debut album, but a new phase in their career. We’ll come back to all of this after the absolutely mind-blowingly stacked supports.

Admittedly, my expectations for Eddy’s Mistake were low to lower. According to the gig preview, the York pop-punk outfit kindly invite you to feast on faeces then immediately perish. Yeah, you too, edgy mofos. My views on punk pop are no secret. But although they’re overtly US influenced in their styling, with vocals that flip from bubblegummy pop to something more abrasive, they’re more 70% punk and only 30% pop. The guitars are up in the mix and dirty-sounding, they’re fresh and fiery, with some harsh burns in the lyrics. ‘Fuckboy’ (if it’s called that – I didn’t spot a setlist and their online presence is clearly in its developmental stages) is a raging punk tune. They are so together and kick ass to the extent that I actually feel guilty for harbouring doubts. They’re straight onto the ‘ones to watch’ list.

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Eddy’s Mistake

Static Lives last played York five months ago, again alongside Blair Bitch Project and supporting Wench! – another Northern raucous female-powered punk-orientated band. Are you seeing a pattern here? In case not, now is a boom time for women in rock. I should perhaps reframe that: the world is finally starting to appreciate the fact that women don’t only rock, but oftentimes, with the need to prove themselves in the male-dominated culture in which we find ourselves, they feel a compulsion to rock harder. And rock they do, with two guitars giving some grit across some phenomenally urgent drumming. It has a swing to it, but also pace and some outstanding cymbal work. They are quite poppy, but nevertheless, they drive hard.

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Static Lives

Single cut ‘Modest’ is an early set standout. ‘Boom Boom’ (I think – the setlist, which features numerous word substitutions, shows ‘Boom-Cum’, which it’s not) brings a funky element to the set, and they finish with hooky early single ‘Social Anxiety’ before Lori hotfoots it back to Sheffield to do a DJ set. Nothing like keeping busy.

A Void have been on my to-see list since lockdown, meaning I was particularly hyped for this. They’re very much a London act, presumably because the economics of touring aren’t all that favourable and there are enough places in the capital to keep them busy, making this their first time in York. As they’re currently auditioning for a new drummer (again), the in-limbo core duo of Camille Alexander and Aaron Hartmann are playing an acoustic set, Hartmann swapping bass for guitar. But for an acoustic set, it rocks pretty hard: being a quintessential grunge band, the potency of simple chord structures paired with (more audible than usual) lyrics of angst has a palpable impact, in the kind of way Nirvana unplugged or Alice in Chains’ Jar of Flies demonstrated that behind the overdriven guitars and all the rest, there are strong songs – with vocals stretching to full-blooded Courtney Love-like screams. Recent single ‘Fish in Your Pocket’ is the second song of the set, in which ‘Newspapers’ stands out, before they close with ‘Stepping on Snails’. And Camille simply can’t stay on a stool for the entire set – she’s simply too much wild energy for that, and cuts lose, thrashing madly, legs flailing towards the end.

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A Void

Camille is effervescent and effusively chatty between songs, with a gush of positive messaging and a determination to use her platform to speak up on issues. And rightly so: anyone who says politics should be kept out of music is simply wrong. Life is political. Art is political. Politics shape our daily lives, and to deny this is sheer ignorance or delusional.

She’s also right that Blair Bitch Project is one of the best band names. So it’s a blow when at the end of their set, they announce that the film studio is forcing them to desist with its use. This feels like another example of big money crushing minor-league artists, but they’re not defeated. The album they’re launching tonight – which isn’t out for about a month, making this more of a prelude than a launch – will be released under the new name off Bitchcraft, which is a second strike of sheer punning genius.

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Blair Bitch Project

Tonight’s set shows they’ve a hell of a lot more about them than wordplay. Before starting, they line the front of the stage with (battery operated) candles which set the mood, and then plough into a blistering set which is half dark Sabbath-influenced heavy metal riffs and half hefty grunge power. They sound immense and rock so fucking hard. They’ve come a long way in a short time, and now sound so powerful and looks so assured. Drummer Lilly and singer / guitarist Amelie Sangster swap places for the raging grunge roar of ‘Rotten’, followed by ‘Superstitious’, and they’re both equally strong in both positions. Towards the end of the set, they chuck in a couple of covers – making interesting choices, with ‘My Cat’ by Jack Off Jill and ‘Jumpers’ by Sleater Kinney, and it’s clear they’re in their element, and not just because they’re in the home straight in what will stand as a pivotal performance in their career to date, ahead of venturing further afield, hitting Leeds for the first time soon. Closing with ‘Banshee’, driven by a solid grunge riff and concluding with a wild primal scream, it’s a triumphant set which draws the curtain on The Blair Bitch Project and prefaces a spectacular rebirth. Bring on the Bitchcraft!

It’s that time of year again, when the nights draw in, it rains nearly every day, and people start coming down with bugs and viruses. Consequently, JUKU have been forced to pull out of tonight’s double header, which is disappointing in extremis. A powerhouse live act wo we don’t get to see often enough, they promised to provide the perfect contrast to Soma Crew’s psychedelic drone. But alas, it was not to be on this occasion. This did, however, provide an opportunity for The Expression to step up and open the evening.

If ever one was looking for proof of just how healthy the York scene is right now, this is it. There are new bands of outstanding quality copping up all the time, none of whom are run-of-the-mill indie acts. It’s also worth noting how many of the bands in York aren’t all just blokes, either. And at the risk of repeating myself to the point of tedium, this is why it’s worth going to the free gig in pubs, the five-quid gigs in local venues, and turning up for all the acts. JUKU’s absence afforded the absolute revelation of The Expression.

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The Expression

They showcased a set of well-realised, tight compositions which brought together elements of dreamy shoegaze, and blistering post punk, propelled by rolling drums. The final song started gently but swelled into something altogether more solid, more riffy, calling to mind The God Machine. Despite battling issues with mic feedback, and nerves jangling just below the surface, they came across well and kept it together to relay some magical moments of chiming, mesmerising picked guitar, with vocals which at times were reminiscent of All About Eve’s Julianne Reagan. Definitely a band to keep on the radar.

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The Expression

I really so wanted to like Deathlounge. They have a great name and a great premise. Previous outings had shown real promise, too, not least of all their EP launch, despite what felt like an overly ambitious and overlong set. But tonight, they sparked, but simply failed to ignite. They sound rough, and it’s nothing to do with the PA. First and foremost, it’s the singer who’s the weakest link, but their lack of coherence is the real issue. They do melodic hardcore without the melody. Or the hard. The guitarist thinks he’s in Fugazi, while the bassist wants to be in Jamiroquai. The whole thing is a bit of a mess.

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Deathlounge

Soma Crew always seem to start with a slow, sparse number, and sound a bit trepidatious, awkward, uncertain. And tonight is no exception. I find myself thinking ‘ooh, is this even in key?’ With a substitute drummer, and Soma Crew being Soma Crew, the set is off to a slow, hesitant-sounding start, but building to a surging swell, a monolithic throbbing drone. I’ve drawn the comparison to Black Angels before, and the parallels are never more apparent tonight. With three guitars plus bass, and with everything but the vocals coming straight from the backline, they’re loud, and the sound fills the small space and then some. When they hit their stride, they’re phenomenal. Toward the end of their set they drop ‘Roadside Picnic’ and the sound is simply huge, and this, this is why we’re here.

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Soma Crew

Christopher Nosnibor

Anyone who suggests that the fact most gig lineups are male-dominated because there is a lack of female representation, or of quality female fronted acts on the rock scene is simply wrong. Tonight’s killer lineup is undeniable proof to the contrary.

Innovation Way really aren’t innovative in any way, playing a set that’s 50% originals and 50% emo covers, but it’s clear that they’re just starting out, finding their feet and their identity, so I’m not going to give them hard time over it. The originals don’t feel quite as evolved in terms of songwriting, but the only way to develop is to be given opportunities to try out, and they play well, really well, and one day they’ll be playing 90% originals and stretching further – and what’s more they’ve brought a lot of their uni mates down, so the place is busy. That means tickets sold and money over the bar. These are good things right now. It does seem strange to me that people in their twenties are now picking up on music that was big around the time they were born, but I suppose this is a generational thing. I’m just more surprised by the idea of an emo revival than a grunge revival.

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Innovation Way

On the subject of developing, I had fully expected to report that Static Lives look very much like Weekend Recovery, and their sound isn’t a million miles away either. But this is not the case: having started out with the same lineup but new material, they’ve reconfigured as a five-piece, with two guitars, synths, and the vocals shared three ways. Having have just completed their first headline tour, which sold out, their place third on the bill was more likely due to travel needs than anything else. No two ways about it, they’re good: they bring the energy and look to be really enjoying themselves. The sound is full, there’s details and dynamics happening all over. The diminutive bassist whacks out some chunky low-end while also contributing a considerable amount of the vocals. This new division of labour means Lori can focus more on guitar and also being part of a team rather than the primary focus, and she seems to revel in this freedom.

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Static Lives

Returning to the grunge revival, Blair Bitch Project bring Sabbathesque riffery and hints of folk horror married to gnarly grunge stylings. Despite the bassist being a late substitution, they’re tight and solid, and play with a confidence that carries not only the band, but the crowd. The drummer and vocalist switch for the third song and it’s a real heavyweight, with explosive riffery and thunderous percussion and a low-registering, gritty bass. Mid-set, with the drummer still on vocals, they deliver a cover of ‘Plump’ by Hole delivered with the raw intensity of the original. They get slower and heavier as the set progresses, and towards the end drop a second Hole cover, this time a ragged rending of ‘Teenage Whore’. There’s no question as to their influences, and they play with so much force that it’s hard to fault.

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Blair Bitch Project

“Anyone else got a sweaty crack?” asks the singing drummer of WENCH! before introducing a song about men who shouldn’t have access to the internet, bursting with angular guitar and shouty vocals before ripping into a roaring scream and gut churning riff. Yep, they’re from Hull, they’ve no filter and they’re fucking phenomenal – and they don’t even know it, which makes us love them all the more.

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Wench!

They, too, bring some Sabbath-inspired riffery, but there’s a whole lot more to them than that, not least of all high-octane punk, with the energy and aggression amped up to eleven. A measure of their structure is the fact the guitarist has two pedals, while the bassist has eight: the rhythm section dominates, and there’s wah-wah and shedloads of distortion on that dominant bass that shapes the songs in a unique way. Their set is a relentless rush, and the channel their feminist fury into the most glorious guitar-driven exorcism. Aesthetically, they are the absolute definition of punk, and the adrenaline rush they deliver is direct and pure.

Yes, yes, and YES! THIS is what it’s all about.

The second single from The Lunar Effect’s upcoming third album Fortune’s Always Hiding was released yesterday. “’Settle Down’ is one of the songs we’re most proud of on the new record. Stripped-back and full of raw emotion, it carries a grunge edge that nods to the bands we grew up admiring, while still pushing our sound forward. It stands apart from some of our previous work, but for us, evolving is essential”, the band comments on the new single.

Watch the video for Settle Down here:

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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.

They don’t imitate the past, they channel its spirit through a warped, modern lens. From thunderous grooves and fuzz-soaked guitar riffs to intimate, fractured vocals, The Lunar Effect channel the unease of the modern world with a sound that refuses to sit still.

2026 promises more touring, more evolution, and no interest in standing still. For a band that’s never fit neatly into any box, The Lunar Effect continue building their own universe — one hypnotic, heavy track at a time.

Fortune’s Always Hiding is available on Svart exclusive Cream/Red/Orange marble vinyl, limited Transparent Green vinyl, Black vinyl, CD, and digital platforms on October 24th, 2025.

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Christopher Nosnibor

Pub gigs provided me with my first experiences of live music, back in the early 90s. Often, pubs with upstairs rooms would pop bands on, and other still would simply pack bands somewhere in the bar. At some point, there seemed to be a shift away from this, with pubs seeming to be only really interested in solo performers and acoustic duos. Gigs in pubs stopped being such a thing. But now, pubs are dying. And grassroots venues are dying. Let me be more blunt they’re not so much dying, as being killed off in the interest of capitalist greed.

As I wrote recently on the repurposing of working men’s clubs – also suffering from a severe decline – as gig venues, so the return of the pub gig seems to solve two problems at once, namely how to bring punters into pubs, and providing bands with a place to play. This certainly seems to be happening in York.

The Black Horse used to be a Tap and Spile, and has always been a solid Yorkshire boozer – real ale and bar snacks, and a weekly quiz. But clearing the top part of the room – more a raised area than a mezzanine per se – creates a fairly generous stage space, and not being a massive space, means a basic setup whereby the bands play straight through their amps with only the vocals going through the house PA, simplifying soundchecks and making switchovers straightforward.

When this show was first announced, Strange Pink were an unknown quantity, but the release of their debut EP changed that, and the Hull-based power-trio-cum-supergroup consisting of Sam Forrest (Nine Black Alps, Sewage Farm), Eddie Alan Logie, and Dom Smith (whose resume is a feature in itself) make for a cracking opening act. They manage to be loose but tight at the same time, and it suits their 90s slacker rock stylings. As the EP attests, their approach is varied, and so, accordingly, is their set. They seem to grow in confidence as the set progresses, the sound coming clearer and brighter, too, and by the end of the set, they’re on fire. They close with ‘Boys Club’, the lead single from EP. It’s a clear standout and possibly their best song, with a strong hook, making for the perfect way to leave the crowd with something to remember.

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Strange Pink

The Bricks have become Aural Aggravation staples, and are a band I will always go and see whenever possible, for two simple reason: they have great tunes, and they’re a great live band – always. During their brief soundcheck, I began to wonder if their run of infallibility might come to and end tonight, but I needn’t have worried, because they were firing on all cylinders from beginning to end. In fact, they seem incredibly at home in tiny venues such as this, and flame-haired Gemma cranks up the wild, eyes-wide, lung-busting intensity, as if relishing the proximity. By the end of a fierce set, her fringe is swept away and plastered to her forehead. The band play relentlessly hard, too, and I try to analyse what it is about them that’s so compelling, why they work so well. The songs are fairly simple, both structurally and in terms of musical complexity – simple lead parts, four-chord riffs, classic (post-)punk, built around solid rhythms, with most songs two or three minutes long and strong hooks. Simple proves effective, especially when played with precision and passion.

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The Bricks

This does mean that Cowgirl have a tough act to follow. But they’re super-seasoned professionals. Danny Barton (guitar and vocals) plays bass in Sewage Farm, previously played bass with White Firs with former Federals drummer James Holdstock (who’s also drummed with Cowgirl), and has, in short, played in more bands in and around York than I’ve had hot dinners, and the same is true of Sam Coates (also guitar and vocals), who’s been pretty much ubiquitous on the scene for years now.

Looking around the room – it’s standing room only, and there’s plenty of beer being drunk, and I bet they’ve not sold this much on a Thursday night in a long time – half the people here are in other bands, or are otherwise recognisable as gig-going regulars, highlighting what a close-knit scene the city has, but also that this lineup has brought people out on a night that’s not exactly a popular one for gigs or pubs. The free entry and donations bucket may be a factor (although a facility to take card donations would likely have seen more contributions), but still, it’s proof that a quality lineup is a definite draw, and the fact a small venue can be filled more easily creates a sense of buzz, which is definitely the case here.

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Cowgirl

Early on in their set, a friend remarked that they sound like Oasis. He’s completely wrong, but the comment got me thinking. Some of the elements are there… some of the jangle, a bit of the swagger, but with a keen American indie influence. Perhaps his opinion was influenced by the fact that their sound is decidedly more ‘rock’ on this occasion than previous times I’ve seen, them, likely on account of the backline / PA setup, resulting in a sound dominated by blistering guitars. But they have actual melodies and a psychedelic hue, and once again, it’s a set that builds in every way – confidence, cohesion, and volume. The final brace of songs is segued together to form a ten-minute melting wall of sound, an epic psych-wig out that’s nothing short of a brain-cleansing blast that leaves you dazed as the final strains of feedback taper away.

Everything about tonight feels like a win. I may have had one more than was wise – easily done when it’s hot because it’s packed and all hand-pulled beers are a fiver and there’s half a dozen to choose from – and I may be a touch emotional at having attended my last live music of my forties – but stepping into the night, I feel like I’ve experienced something life-affirming and positive in the bleakest of times.

Magnetic Eye Records – 22nd August 2025

Everything gets an anniversary reissue now, doesn’t it? And however much you love a band or an album, the constant cycle of repackaged reissues with bonus this, that or the other, a new remastering starts to feel like a cynical drain. Not that such exploitation is anything new: the late 80s and early 90s with infinite formats of single releases whereby fans felt compelled to purchase multiple versions to obtain all the tracks and mixes in order to attain a higher chart position – when these things actually counted – were shocking for it. But back then, 7” and cassette singles cost 99p, a CD single wasn’t much more, and a 12” was maybe £3.50. But the point was that you got different stuff on different formats, and being a completist didn’t require a second job. Now, you’re looking at £30 for a splatter vinyl remaster with maybe one bonus track of an album you’ve already got five copies on, but you buy if for that track and for the sake of the collection… and being reminded that an album is now ten, twenty, twenty-five years old is like a body blow as you realise how quickly your life is passing by. On a personal note, I’m feeling this most acutely as I find myself on the cusp of fifty. How the hell have I been here half a century? And this means that anything that happened twenty-five years ago – at the turn of the millennium – was a quarter of a century ago. Remember how the entire civilised world was shitting itself over the so-called ‘Millennium bug’? It felt like the apocalypse was imminent at the time. How, it feels like a picnic.

But there are positives. Sometimes, a new edition can bring an album to the attention of a new generation of fans, and / or provide long-term fans with something special which serves to expand on the legacy of the release. This is likely the case with Further, an album which bypassed me, but won New Jersey stoner metal act Solace critical acclaim and fans, and there’s a poignancy about this re-release, too, as founder and vocalist Jason died in January of this year (the reissue was already in the pipeline before his departure), making for a fitting tribute and summation of his and the band’s legacy, remastered and expanded to include three previously unreleased tracks, and the original EP version of ‘Heavy Birth / 2 Fisted’.

Now, as this is my first exposure, if you’re already familiar with the album, this review will likely not be of much use to you: I’m in no position to comment on how the 2025 remaster compares to the original, or how the track sequencing – which follows that of the 2005 reissue, down to the 11-minute cut of ‘Heavy Birth / 2 Fisted’, with the additional material appended to the ten-track version.

For those unfamiliar, this is a solid slab of heavy metal that takes plenty of cues from Black Sabbath, straight from the off with the rifferola of ‘Man Dog’. The lead guitar work is busy, atop riffs which are thick and heavy, while the rhythm section is dense: the drums feel loud despite being fairly low in the mix, giving the impression of extreme volume on the part of the guitars while the bass slides like sludge at the bottom end of the sonic spectrum.

Jason’s vocals tend to manifest as bombastic and Ozzy-like, but there are moments, as on ‘Black Unholy Ground’ where he channels some palpable aggression, just before an epic solo breaks loose. There are no shortage of epic solos to be found here. The slower eight-and-a-half-minute ‘Followed’ exploits the classic quiet / loud dynamic and goes for the atmospheric slow-building intro, but when it gets going, by the mid-point it packs the filthy heft and rage of Fudge Tunnel. It’s a ball-busting blast of anguish which races to a pulverising conclusion with a blown-out cyclical riff. ‘Hungry Mother’ goes mellow – a brief acoustic interlude with some psychedelic hues – before the behemoth that is ‘Angels Dreaming’, a nine-minute monster that is peak stoner metal. Like ‘Followed’, ‘Heavy Birth’ draws as much on 90s underground noise as much as vintage heavy metal, and packs a massive punch.

The musical landscape of recent years is another world from that of 2000, and it’s important to bear this in mind, not because Further has aged badly, but because it sounds so contemporary. While stoner metal wasn’t a completely novel concept at the time of release – Melvins had been doing it since forever already, of course, and Queens of the Stone Age would unleash breakthrough major label debut Rated R in June 2000, it certainly isn’t the sound of the time, when nu-metal was the dominant style the world of guitar music, and after grunge fell to indie, big riffs were largely out in favour of guitars that sounded like slabs of concrete and vocals which switched between rap and emoting.

Further is heavy, gritty, unashamedly drawing on grunge (which with acts like Tad had taken cues from 70s metal in the first place), and hearing it now, it feels like an album that’s more at home in 2025 than it would have been in 2000. But this also demonstrates just how, while fashions come and go, quality music always holds up at any time – and this is quality. The bonus tracks – including the obligatory live cut in the form of ‘Funk #49 (Live in Tokyo ’98)’- are all worthy additions of a standard which is equal to the album itself.

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The Los Angeles-based punk band Sour Tongue was formed in the early days of the 2020 pandemic by Satori Marill and John Murphy, the mission of the alternative rock, grunge and riot grrrl influenced quintet remaining the same ever since their inception: “when it stops being fun, we’ll end it.” Fusing disco with grunge, hardcore punk with country, plus much more, Sour Tongue utilise humour and a degree of sonic absurdity to convey a deeper message of angst and desperation.

Having developed a global fanbase via four previous singles, an EP, plus a US tour with industrial rock heavyweights KMFDM, the band’s bright and breezy new single ‘I Thought You Liked Me!’ was written about a near universal experience felt by girls. “I wrote the song about being manipulated and lied to, getting fed up and reversing the roles,” states vocalist Marill. “I wanted to talk about reactive impropriety, but with a feeling of guilt tucked beneath it, because I think a lot of people are ashamed to admit when they do something out of spite. I think anyone who has ever had their heart broken and done something stupid in return can relate to it.”

The single is taken from a forthcoming EP entitled Final Girl, their most personal set of songs to date. Told as a story in four parts, it is about the intersection of grief, betrayal and heartbreak, yet loving through it all. It’s dark, it’s angry, it’s funny, it’s heartbreaking. It’s a horror comedy.

AA

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Dipterid Records – 18th July 2025

Christopher Nosnibor

That artists can have complete control over their creative output, artwork, and every other aspect of their releases, including the schedule, is often hailed as one of the great virtues of the age of the Internet, especially Bandcamp and Spotify. It’s also oft-said that quality will reach its audience regardless. But thanks to algorithms and the fact that most creatives aren’t best at (self)-promotion and have no budget to pay anyone else to do the job, it simply doesn’t happen that way. And so it is that Hollow Cells, the debut album from Portland-based sludge / stoner metal band, Belonging, self-released in May, is now receiving a vinyl release courtesy of Dipterid Records, which comes with proper distribution and PR – which is why we’re here now.

Social media is aclog with music fans dismissing the role of critics and music reviews, scoffing about how they’re worthless and their opinions not worth shit. But the fact is that unless you have a mate with their ear to the ground, or the algorithm delivers particularly favourable results – unlikely for a minor band who’ve taken the self-release route – the industry mechanisms of labels, PR, press, and radio can make all the difference. Back in the 90s, pre-Internet, I relied on print media and late-night radio to discover new music that wasn’t top-40 chart stuff, and would be as likely to seek out an album based on a negative review as a positive one. Because criticism goes both ways, and critical reading, while perhaps a dying skill, was essential in order to read between the lines. In short, a negative review isn’t – or at least wasn’t – necessarily a bad thing.

I’ve digressed. And I’m not giving Hollow Cells a negative review – because it’s a belting album.

There’s space and separation between the instruments, and the drums – which bring us into the first track, ‘Lady Vanishes’ – have that ‘live’ feel – as, indeed, do the rest of the instruments. This is a recording that captures speaker-quivering volume. The overdriven guitar is thick, driving, the bass hangs low and heavy. The songs are structured, but primarily constructed around the riff, and the riffs are epic. But there’s detail, too, which emerges from the monolithic sludgefest. The stop / start shouty aggro racket of ‘Ceiling’ starts out a bit Therapy? but then swerves to a place that’s more Fugazi, and it’s precisely this range that shows that Belonging have something more to offer than template stoner / sludge: the energy of Hollow Cells is exhilarating from beginning to end.

The six-minute ‘Birdwatcher’ ventures into more post-punk territory, with Bryce August adopting a growlier, baritone vocal style that, when paired with steely grey guitars, invites comparisons to Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, before the song veers in a very different direction that’s more anthemic indie than anything, but with guitars which are absolutely huge.

As it progresses, Hollow Cells becomes increasingly difficult to place, and all the better for it. It’s heavy, but melodic, grungy but not so much angsty. It’s more obscure 90s acts like The God Machine and 8-Storey Window which come to mind during the second half of the album, and with each song, I come to realise how short any genre-based pitch is doomed to fall. ‘Longhaul’ is classic 90s grunge, but works on account of being more Nirvana than Bush, while chucking in a dash of Shellac. The bassline is killer

Hollow Cells is bursting with emotional depth, an ache. But then there are blasting punk songs like ‘Bonehead’ which are more in the vein of …And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead. And this is why Hollow Cells is so good: it never fails to confound expectation, and never fails to exceed expectation, either. It’s quality from beginning to end – a rare thing indeed. I don’t do stars, but if I did, this would be a 9.5.

AA

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