Posts Tagged ‘Grunge’

31st July 2026

Just the other day, I was contemplating – and discussing with my daughter – how practically every style and fashion had been recycled in the not so distant past, or was in otherwise back in vogue, with the exception of hair rock and spandex. But then I came to the new EP by Italian ‘alternative’ rock / industrial act Noir Addiction, and while it was predominantly a conglomeration of industrial and grunge, there were some strong hints of music from the time that settle forgot. I’d assumed it was a singular exception, but then I caught Greek act Dismiss just last week and noted how their hybrid of punk and hard rock invited comparisons to both Amyl and the Sniffers and Lita Ford, and now there’s the video which accompanies Blacklist Union’s latest single, ‘Madame Butterfly’, and the growing evidence is starting to suggest otherwise. Sonically, it’s very much steeped in 90s grunge, at least in the verses… but the choruses, and visually… we’ll return to this after we’ve unpacked the rest of it.

The accompanying notes provide few surprises by way of context, explaining how the takes its title ‘from Puccini’s Madama Butterfly’ but ‘is a world away from the opera’s tragic tale of unrequited love. Instead, it serves as a heartfelt love letter from frontman Tony West to Lorraine Lewis of Femme Fatale’.

Femme Fatale still stand as one of the definitive glam metal / hard rock bands of the period 1987-1990, and Lorraine Lewis was a classic rock pinup, who would also front Vixen between 2013 and 2025.

‘Madame Butterfly’ is the lead single from Blacklist Union’s forthcoming album, The Good, The Bad And The Notorious, due for release in spring 2027. The release follows the acclaimed single ‘Jackson’, Blacklist Union’s reimagining of the Johnny Cash and June Carter classic, which paired Tony West with – yes – Lorraine Lewis for a duet ‘blending outlaw country, punk attitude and rock ‘n’ roll swagger.’ Tony West must have been creaming his skinny jeans.

‘Madame Butterfly’ is unreconstituted, back-to-the-source, glammy hard rock, the likes of which we haven’t really seen in a long time. The fact that it does incorporate grunge elements indicates just how things have changed in the last thirty years, given that grunge was a rebellion against precisely this. But… different times. Pandemic. World war. Shit on shit. Somehow, lately, it feels easier to forgive.

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Lorraine Lewis & Tony West pic

3rd July 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

For so, so long, the UK music industry was so London-centric that it actually hurt. The music press would flock to all the regular London haunts within spitting distance of their offices and declare that they’d just witnessed the next big thing. often, it became a self-fulfilling prophecy, because said bands found themselves in the national press, but because London is so huge, they rarely needed to venture beyond the M25. There were moments in time when cities in the North spawned scenes which were simply impossible to ignore – Manchester in the late 70s and again in he 90s, Sheffield in the 80s, and Leeds, also in the 80s – as much as the press tried to look the other way there. But over the last fifteen years or so, Leeds has consistently birthed acts of a remarkable quality.

It’s true that, living in York, I may be prone to a certain Leeds bias of the kind which tinged the London-based press historically, but I still have to travel to the next county to see shows in Leeds, which requires both time, effort, and expenditure. In short, the quality has to be there to motivate me to go. But more to the point, this is not a matter of settling for what’s accessible. In the late 80s and early 90s, I yearned to live in London because it seemed that’s where I needed to be to discover the most happening music. This is not the case anymore: the Leeds scene is positively foaming with exciting acts, more than I can even keep pace with.

During this time of new band emerging on a weekly basis, Kath and the Kicks have been beavering away, building a following through a steady live schedule and a flow of exhilarating releases, the latest of which is ‘Sleep’.

Pitched as being for fans of Skunk Anansie, Siouxsie Sioux, Muse, Guano Apes, No Doubt, and The Runaways, ‘Sleep’ brings together slugging grunge riffery and doomy / goth vocals with a subtle pop edge – that is to say, amidst the ethereality and posed drama, there’s a melodic accessibility. Here, they bring the kind of guitar-driven heft, blended with soaring melody, that invites comparisons to heavier contemporary acts like Cwfen (and given that Sorrows was one of my top albums of 2025, that’s no small compliment).

Their name may carry connotations of a middling, middle-aged pub-rock band, but Kath & The Kicks bring full-throttle power, and properly kick arse with gutsy guitars and a distinctive dynamism, and with ‘Sleep’ they bring it all together into a densely-packed guitar-driven blast. Top drawer.

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Kath & The Kicks Promo shot 2

Christopher Nosnibor

Just over six years ago, one of my favourite labels, Cruel Nature Records, released Pachinko, the third EP / mini-album from Newcastle noisemongers Ballpeen – a band appropriately named, given their capacity to hammer home heavyweight riffs with bludgeoning brutality. With noise rock, grunge, and hardcore punk all in the mix Pachinko was rabid, raw, primitive, recorded, not produced.

2020 was a productive year for them, with the release of two live recordings and a split EP, and 2021 saw the stop-gap EP Bunch of Sevens, which featured material recorded in 2017 at the same time as their debut release. And then, silence. It transpires that they sadly called it a day some time after this. They’re not the first band to abort before the release of their debut album by any means, but the shock news is that they actually recorded an album which then got ditched.

But now here it is. Ballpeen are no more, but finally, there is closure in the delivery of the lost album, What You Need, What You Deserve. And it’s a beast. Thirteen songs packed into thirty-seven minutes. That’s an average of approximately 2.8 minutes apiece. And into these compressed timescales, they pack in so much energy, so much explosive riffery, and so much… just so much.

The first single, released in May, is also the first track on the album, and from ‘Modern Life is Hell’, it’s immediately apparent just how much they’d evolved from previous releases. It’s by no means polished or pop, but the sound is crisper, denser, the songwriting more sophisticated, a solid hook snaring the listener early, with a sound and style which warrants comparisons with Hawk Eyes, who are also now sadly missed. And the sentiment probably resonates more powerfully now than when it was recorded. How times have changed – and not for the better. We thought the pandemic was hell – because it was. But little could we have anticipated what was to come.

What follows is nothing short of a gut-busting guitar-driven blast. ‘Unit Three’ amalgamates the steely nihilism and sinewy strain of Kowloon Walled City with a thick bass-driven grunge heft. There are some neat descending bass runs in the second half of the song which remind me of something else, but we’re into the squalling wall of feedback that drives ‘Poverty of Ambition; before my brain has remotely got itself into gear. But ballpeen are very much in gear: there’s no mid-album slump, no breath-catching ballad here. Instead of slowing the pace, they crank up the distortion and stoke up the rage.

The bass on the intro to ‘Engram Theory’ is nothing short of rib-rattling, a chunky, clunky, bruising assault of pure density, reminiscent of Shellac, for sure, but closer to that of Blacklisters with their original bassist – which is a fair comparison for the song as a whole, really, and it provides a welcome reminder of just how the North of England has been so strong in its generation of noisy bands over the last fifteen ears or so. Seattle and Chicago have the longstanding reputation for their scenes, but we’re looking back to the late eighties and early nineties for their heydays: more recently, Leeds and Newcastle have proven to be the crucial hotspots, and Ballpeen’s contribution is strong. The belated arrival of What You Need, What You Deserve only cements this view.

Second advance single, ‘Ukiah’ is yet another fiery onslaught, and compels one to consider what might have been. It’s true that such speculation is futile, and instead of mourning, we should be grateful, and the juddering riff of ‘Crossing Waters’ provides every reason to be grateful. It hits so hard, it makes you sweat. There isn’t a weak moment on What You Need, What You Deserve. In fact, there’s barely a moment to catch breath. It’s intense, alright.

There can be little doubt that it’s best to quit while you’re on top, kill things while you’re at the peak of your game (Nirvana perhaps took that a bit too literally, but Big Black are a fine example of a band who left a concise but unsullied legacy). And to the list, we can now add Ballpeen, a band who demonstrably saved their best for last.

What You Need, What You Deserve needs to be heard. It’s all killer and no filler, and more – and it doesn’t just go all the way to eleven: it starts at eleven and works its way up over its skull-cracking thirty-seven minutes. It’s the good shit alright, hitting with enough force as to dislodge your fillings.

This must surely be their legacy.

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SoulPunx Records – 16th July 2026

Christopher Nosnnibor

Italian industrial rock / alternative act Noir Addiction have wasted no time since the release of their debut album in September, swiftly knocking out three singles in quick succession. Now, they’re gathering these singles together, along with a further three unreleased songs to bring us Pretty Things Don’t Last, which they say is ‘an EP about impermanence, distortion, and the beauty found in what’s unstable, broken, and intense. It moves through chaos, desire, power, disillusionment, and rebellion, tracing a journey where control is questioned and identity is constantly reshaped’.

Opening with ‘Serve Me Some Crime’, the first of the singles, which was released back in March, we arrive in familiar territory (if we’ve been keeping up, that is), and it makes for an instant grab, with its uptempo beat, melded with an insistent bass throb and dirty, driving guitar sound, that crunches away, hard, and the whole thing has got ‘anthem’ and ‘high impact’ stamped all over it.

Starting this strong means they’ve set themselves a real challenge to maintain the standard and the solidity over the course of the remaining five songs. It’s like when you see an amazing band at the start of the evening: the first thought, after ‘woah’, ventures towards ‘I wouldn’t want to follow them’, to the acceptance that the night has likely peaked early.

Not so Noir Addiction. They bring the fire for the EP’s entire duration. The sound and formula is fundamentally set, but how they work within the template is with confidence and consistency, keeping on with back-to-back hard grooves.

Of the previously unreleased songs, ‘Toxic Twins’ is something of a standout, quite boldly leaning into a more overtly hard rock sound, complete with muscular lead guitar work which thrusts its way to the fore over a grinding bass before they go all out on the kind of chorus that would be at home in an arena setting, and has the big-balls swagger of a band like Shotgun Messiah or Zodiac Mindwarp – absorbing all the cliché and throwing it back with a knowingness but also a straight face.

Similarly, ‘Cold Habit’ stomps hard and brings the almost inevitable nods to Depeche Mode and Nine Inch Nails, while being more ‘rock’ in its delivery, and a chorus that’s brimming with hooks and accessibility. Recent single ‘Money for the Honey’ packs the sleaze in tight and hard, and while there are hints of spandex in the execution, there’s no debate to be had here: this is a solid rock banger.

‘Radio Funeral’ brings a dash of country and grunge to a mid-pace closer to an EP that’s bursting with confidence – and tunes.

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Photo: Valerio Fanelli

Crumbling Ghost recently announced their return after a number of years away with the release of new album Four on 7th August via New Heavy Sounds. The group’s core idea is deceptively simple: traditional folk material rearranged and refracted through the haze and heft of heavy, fuzzy stoner rock with a chunk of psyche and a smattering of doom.

Today the band have shared the video for new single, the slowcore/grunge inspired ‘Last of All Sleep’ which you can check out now:

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Within the broad church of ‘rock’ or ‘alternative’ and its many offshoots – it remains a minor thrill to stumble across a group who seem to exist at a slight tangent to everything else.

Crumbling Ghost is one such anomaly and an irresistible one at that: a group who feel less like a discovery than a secret belatedly shared. Their new album Four set for release on 7th August (New Heavy Sounds) was announced last month.

Crumbling Ghost are not newcomers. They’ve been operating for some time, releasing records sporadically, Four is in fact their fourth release.  Along the way they’ve accumulated a fervent coterie of followers, not to mention the occasional nod of approval from tastemakers such as Stuart Maconie, Stewart Lee and Tom Ravenscroft. And though they’ve appeared at Roadburn, shared stages with Hawkwind and even Damo Suzuki, they remain (possibly by design) curiously under‑the‑radar. That might change with the quite wonderful ‘Four’.

The group’s core idea is deceptively simple: traditional folk material rearranged and refracted through the haze and heft of heavy, fuzzy stoner rock with a  chunk of psyche and a smattering of doom. But crucially, this is done without the costumery and theatrical tics that often accompany such collisions.  No mock‑pagan pageantry, no graveyard cosplay, no cartoon Satanism.

What Crumbling Ghost latch onto is not folk as a museum piece, but as a lived experience, the dramas rooted in the culture, stories, and daily lives of ordinary people, the folklore, the tales of love and death, murder and adultery, freedom and oppression.

On Four those narratives are dragged into the present via churning distortion, hypnotic repetition and a sense of looming atmosphere. Fairport Convention with fuzz. Trees with heft. A pastoral Sonic Youth.

The result is a set of murder ballads, supernatural reckonings and cautionary tales, all wrapped in slabs of heavy, thumping fuzz and atmospheric sonics. Harnett’s voice sits at the centre: unmistakably folk‑rooted, but shorn of prettification, melodic yet capable of real bite. There’s no “hey nonny nonny” here.

Musically, it’s a combination that really does work, and it’s delivered in some style too. And to fully appreciate the world of Crumbling Ghost, listening closely pays dividends, and those stories come to life.

New single ‘Last of All Sleep’ is not a Crumbling Ghost reinterpretation of a dark and distant folk murder ballad, nor a cover of a little known 90’s SubPop grunge downtuned, downtempo album-track-that-should-have-been-a-single, but it feels like a song you’ve wanted to hear and yet known for years, in other words, an instant classic.

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CG - 3 - Credit Ryan McClelland and Hannah Cheesbrough

Pic: Ryan McClelland & Hannah Cheesebrough

Christopher Nosnibor

The phrase ‘local band’ still carries negative connotations, despite the fact that practically every band is local to somewhere. Of course, the main criticism when it comes to the application of the term ‘local’ is the implicit issue of their failure to travel further afield to grow their audience. Historically, it carried with it the notion that the band weren’t good enough to get gigs elsewhere. Concurrent with, and somewhat contradictory to, this – and I suppose we’re largely going back to the music press of the 80s and 90s – was the London-centric nature of coverage of live music. Occasionally bands from, say, Manchester, Sheffield, or Leeds would get a rare look-in, but it’s not hard to see why bands who wanted to ‘make it’ would move to London. The north was perceived as quaint, parochial, and peripheral, and largely of less consequence.

It’s quite the paradox that many bands could cultivate a career without ever travelling outside the M25. No-one ever beefed that bands who never, or rarely, played outside London were just ‘local’ bands. Then again, to an extent, it’s a question of scale. It’s possible to play in London four times in a week and still not reach all of the potential fanbase. The same can’t be said of somewhere like, say, Lincoln, or Stoke, or even Nottingham. In this context, it’s understandable why smaller London-based bands don’t feel the need to travel further afield much or often, particularly in the current economic climate, when the cost of fuel alone is likely to outstrip the proceeds of door takings and merch sales, without considering sustenance and accommodation.

As such, we’re incredibly privileged to receive two – two – London-based, French-derived bands hitting Leeds together. Both have been on my wishlist for a while, having followed both online for some years now. The last time A Void played Leeds was 2021, and although they ventured north to play York earlier this year, following the departure of the latest in their ‘rotating cast’ of drummers, they played an acoustic set, and superb as it was, it wasn’t the full-throttle grunge blast I’d spent so long yearning for. And now co-founding bassist Aaron Hartmann has departed (as in left, not died), meaning they’re showcasing a brand new – ‘temporary’ – lineup. Which feels a bit harsh, but we’ll come to all of this presently.

First up, and early doors, Hitlist deliver punchy punky alt-rock songs with solid choruses and strong hooks – and some flamboyant slap bass breaks. They have some really nice melodic guitar parts woven into the songs, and play with confidence. Their set is well-considered, and they get harder and faster towards the end. The drummer moans loudly between songs, as if he’s in serious pain or perturbation. It is absolutely fucking boiling mind. And it only gets hotter as the night progresses.

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Hitlist

Mango in Euphoria are pure class from the very start, and they’re straight in with some big glammy grooves. The new, all-female five-piece lineup is sounding fantastic (the high tom being louder than the rest of the drums notwithstanding, but that’s pedantry on my part) – tight, together, with a bright, metallic guitar sound and the synths adding no small dynamic variation. They’re also fully committed to the image, too – none more so than Mango herself in her strikingly slinky getup, and nothing you may have seen in terms of footage on the Internet fully conveys the wild force of nature she is on stage. Throwing poses galore and chucking herself about all over, you’d think this was a 1,500 capacity arena rather than a 150-capacity indie venue with a worryingly bouncy stage. It’s quite the show, alright.

‘5th Year’ is a straight up power ballad. The set flies in the blink of an eye. ‘Lovestruck’ lands as the penultimate song, and it’s epic – the atmospherics and sultry beats of the studio version switched up to chunky, rockin’ dark pop beast before they close with ‘Hollywood’, and they slay it.

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Mango in Euphoria

A Void power in with a swift one-two of ‘One of a Kind’ and ‘Sick as a Dog’ from their last album, Dissociated. Next up, the first of the new songs is particularly hard and driving, reminiscent in parts of Solar Race, only with some straight up metal riffery. It’s apparent just how much the songwriting – and musical capabilities – of the band have evolved since 2018’s Awkward and Devastated. New drummer Mave is a hard hitter, while bassist Lauren lunges towards the crowd and plays with total commitment. And the rapport and banter between the three is a joy. There’s also some remarkably candid chat, and we learn that the album-in-progress since 2023 has been recorded no fewer than three times due to lineup changes whereby new members have brought something different to the songs.

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A Void

They’re all absolutely melting up there, and Camille laments her choice of a velour tracksuit-type getup which is likely the clothing equivalent of a portable sauna. Because this is A Void, there are elements of chaos throughout – Camille upends her pedal board several times, and the drum kit and stool require constant adjustment, and there’s always a sense that anything could happen at any moment. But they manage to keep it together to the end, closing an hour-long set with a boisterous rendition of ‘Stepping on Snails’, and in typical form, Camille celebrates by lying on her back and waving her legs in the air. I’d have responded in kind if I wasn’t encumbered by a pint and a camera and being of an age where I’d likely struggle to get up again. That said, the number of older blokes in the room – I’m talking 60+, rather than 50+ – is somewhat strange, but bands don’t choose their audiences, and there are also a lot of women under thirty here, too. But I digress as my brain slowly melts and I find myself transitioning to a liquid form… this was one of those crazy, sticky, intense summer gigs that stand out, and those of us who were there will be telling people about it in years to come.

Christopher Nosnibor

It’s bank holiday Friday in May. It’s exam season at university, and York Races on Saturday. And it’s the first day of a heatwave, which hits after three weeks of rain and temperatures which have struggled to make double figures. These could all be factors in explaining tonight’s turnout. But because it’s absolutely melting, I probably go a fair way to compensating any fall in bar sales just to put fluid in as fast as it’s pouring out of me, and I can only imagine how hot it would have been if the place had been packed.

Rodentia are a late addition to the lineup, which has been subject to a number of revisions. They open their set with a cover of ‘Harness Your Hopes’ by Pavement. It seems a curious choice, although having gone viral on TikTok and become their most streamed song on Spotify, meaning it’s probably a lot better known than I appreciate. They’re a three-piece, and the singer/guitarist is a lanky sod who’s vocal style is a croaky drawl. He asks us if we’ve heard of a band called Radiohead before they play ‘Just’. I hope he’s kidding. It’s a passable rendition. On their second original song, ‘Never Left’ (the set alternates a 50/50 split of originals and covers), the bass and guitar part ways in playing the same key around a minute in, and the discord become increasingly apparent as the set progresses. Then there’s a cover of Viagra Boys ‘Worms’. It’s all very much geared towards the lower end of mid-tempo, and as such lacks dynamic and energy. They finally find the accelerator at the end of the last song, ‘Borat’, and go pedal to the metal before a hard stop which feels like driving straight into a wall. There’s potential, but considerable work needed.

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Rodentia

Sheffield’s Imaginary Friends gave the initial impression they were going to be a bit pop-punk, but immediately unleashed a bass-heavy grunged-up wall of noise. At times more straight punk, and in places proper heavy, their invitations to come forward become a running joke throughout the set. Because it’s not especially busy, the space in front of the stage is quite sparsely populated, but half of those present are pinned to the walls in the face of the sheer volume. Apparently, they’ve got merch, too.

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Imaginary Friends

This is a power trio for whom power is the operative word, with a wild flanged guitar sound. It seems I’m too old to know ‘All Star’, the cover they closed with. Apparently, it’s by Smash Mouth, according to a younger mate. Would see again.

The Bricks I would always see again, and by now I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve seen them. The thing is, they’re always bloody good – and tonight is no exception. Whether it’s packed to the rafters or half empty, they always give everything, and there are few bands who are this consistent, both in terms of performance and the standard of the material. However, because the audience is a bit sparse, the vibe is notably relaxed, with more direct interaction between band and audience.

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The Bricks

Their songs are short and fast, and there’s no way they could play with such intensity for an hour even if they had the material. But Gemma’s on chatty form, and while she may be utterly fearsome while singing, between songs her persona’s more akin to Mrs Merton (more so now she’s wearing glasses), and utterly hilarious at times. Because it’s all so natural and unfiltered, not to mention the diametric opposite of the music and the performance, which is full-on, stomping, aggressive, it’s all the more endearing. The bottom line is that they’re a great band. Will definitely see again – next month.

15th May 2026 – noot moon records

Christopher Nosnibor

The term ‘post mortem’ has come to bare a number of meanings, not least of all the connotations of autopsy, but ultimately, it boils down to being something after the fact, specifically, after death, as the phrase implies. I suppose what it is that happens after death does vary between individuals, but it doesn’t necessarily mean being carved up.

By way of context, Melanculia is the solo project of Nino Sable, front man of goth act Aeon Sable, and the release of post mortem marks the first new album under the Melanculia name since 2018’s Seventh Circle. The accompanying notes inform that ‘The album expands further into a melancholic palette shaped by Nino’s strong sense of post-punk melodicism, while also drawing on dark psychedelia and indie-folk textures.’ And there’s more: Sable says that ‘Freed from the constraints of collaboration and compromise, the album focuses on a more direct and personal approach, centred on acoustic guitar, haunting synths, and sharply focused lyrics that cut to the bone: fragile and unfiltered.’

If I were collaborator or bandmate, I might take this statement with a pang of annoyance, or feel it to be a slight sleight, but as I’m not, I can take it at face value, intending that for all the fun of collaboration, it’s empowering to cut loose and fly free every now and again.

And, indeed, with the freedom to explore any and all directions, that’s exactly what Sable does here: the fourteen songs on post mortem are varied, not only stylistically, but in terms of mood and emotional range.

post mortem’s first song is something of a sad song: ‘Dark Days’ blends acoustic guitar and sweeping retro synths to strong effect, and that effect is downbeat and melancholy. The first song sounds like an album closer, and starting on a downer with a slow fade is a bit of a risky way to start an album, but when that’s pretty much par for the course, what else are you going to do? This set of songs is very much set on the downbeat, the wistful, the melancholy, brimming with reflection and gloomy nostalgia. ‘The Tower’ steps up into another level of theatricality, and over the course if fourteen songs – which does make for a long album – post mortem dredges the depths of the soul.

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It’s hard to put your finger on exactly what it does or how it registers: post mortem finds Melanculia strolling quite confidently around the territories of alt-rock and post-punk, while also incorporating folk elements – repetitive chord sequences thrummed out on acoustic guitar may be simple, but utterly gripping, and never more so than on the haunting ‘Runaways’. The folksiness goes a bit pirate folk in places, but ‘The Healer’ drips emotion and brings mid-tempo theatrics propelled by a metronomic and insistent mechanised beat with a vintage snare sound that cuts through and hits hard. ‘Emptiness’ drips heavy emotive swooning, as Sable croons in a quivering Pete Murphy inspired intonation, ‘I wish you were dead now’. No doubt there’s someone in all of our lives that this sentiment applies to.

Standing in the centre of the album like a towering monolith, the seven minute epic that is ‘We Are Only Human’. Hearing the words, laced with a grace and ache, ‘I’m only human, so mall, insignificant’ against a backdrop of rolling piano played in waltz-time is unexpectedly impactful, and also reminds me of another song I simply can’t place. It doesn’t matter: what matters is that the way the atmosphere builds.

There are echoes of Chris Isaak’s ‘Wicked Game’ about the reverb-soaked sadness of ‘Confessions’, and ‘Sabiaoa’ scrapes the dark terrains of the whispering undulations that creep underground.

It’s perhaps fair to say that in terms of instrumentation and musical style, post mortem explores a narrow space in microcosmic detail. This is their two inches of ivory, if you will. Consequently, it’s an album which benefits spending time with, uncovering the details and the delicate differences. In capturing moods and atmospheres, post mortem is highly accomplished, filling every moment with a sense of poignancy, a swooning sadness.

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17th April 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

I happen to know a fair few people who suffer from gout – which may be an indication of my age and the people I associate with – and they will all attest that it really is an ‘actual bastard’. But the title of this EP is also so, so Glaswegian. Living in Glasgow for four years, I came to appreciate that not only is Scotland culturally very different from England – something tourists probably don’t get to absorb in a week or two – but Glasgow has a culture, and a dialect, and countless turns of phrase which are unique to Glasgow. Following my time there, ‘Actual Bastard’ sounds like Glasgow, and the only way it could sound more Glasgae is if it was called Pure Bastard, Pure Wee Bastard¸ or maybe Fuckin Bawbag Cunt Bastard. Glasgow’s probably the only place on the planet where you can call a colleague a cunt in the office and not get into trouble because it’s a term of endearment as well as an insult.

Gout features members of Glasgow bands Lucia & the Best Boys and The Ninth Wave. As the bio notes, though, Gout is ‘a far cry from these projects, however’ (And having caught The Ninth Wave at Live at Leeds (I think) many moons ago, I can attest to this), Gout distils the intensity of hardcore with the low, driven crush of sludge forebears’.

No two ways about it: Actual Bastard is an absolute rager, with rabid, throat-ripping vocals raving and raw over filthy, low-slung churning riffs. The first track, ‘nmate’ lurches headlong into punishing, sludge-laden dirt, calling to mind The Jesus Lizard and the like, but scratcher, heavier, more overtly metal. ‘Too Bleak’ ratchets up the savagery, making for an eardrum-busting assault – but it’s tame in the face of ‘I Am A Beacon of Health and Wellbeing’ which sees the riffery go straight-up Godflesh and the tuning go way down to conjure the most ferocious hybrid of 90s noise rock and extreme metal.

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If ‘Junk Sick’ goes a bit easier, with clean chorus-tinged guitar and a slugging bass, it’s not without a brutal lurch into extremity, going early Pitch Shifter meets Fudge Tunnel around the midway point.

‘Tarmac’ brings peace at last with a spoken word narrative and clean guitar strum. ‘I’m the eldest of two / You’re the youngest of three / I’m just tarmac to you / you can walk all over me… just walk all over me’, Ally Scott mutters tensely. Here, it registers that this is not just a band doing it for a bit of a laugh: there’s real emotional depth buried amidst the tempest of noise. But of course this revealingly introspective moment is swiftly swallowed in a welter of noise. What does cut through is pure rage and anguish, a cathartic offloading of trauma, amidst a swirl of metal meets shoegaze. The impact level is high, and ‘Tarmac’ only elevates the power of Actual Bastard. I’m foraging for words here, in the face of overwhelming musical might.

Gout sure as hell don’t hold back, and Actual Bastard is a flailing, furious, rampant, relentless beast of an EP.

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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