Posts Tagged ‘Grunge’

Christopher Nosnibor

Michael Jackson’s ‘Thriller’ is playing just before Kid Kid Squid start, and I find myself on a rare reflective trip on how times have changed. I was in primary school – aged eight – when it was released, my school reopened on the evening that the full-length video was aired on the BBC so we could all watch it on a TV on a trolley in reception. Even at that young age, it felt like a moment in musical history. No musical release is such a global event now. Not even half-time at the Superbowl has a sense of occasion which comes close. Culturally – in no small part on account of the advent of streaming, but also the absence of music on television now, which means that the promotional video has far less reach and impact – music has come to be treated like sonic wallpaper. Do people really listen to Ed Sheeran and Taylor Swift, or is their bland fare simply amiable background? Come 2015, a headteacher is forced to apologise after showing the ‘Thriller’ video to some primary-age pupils (age seven and eight) because, according to their complaining parents, they suffered ‘night terrors’ afterwards.

I expect the members of Kid Kid Squid, David and Katy – who emerged from the rocked-up dance covers act The DDK – will remember the release of ‘Thriller’ well. How well they remember the 90s is probably another matter. It’s evident from their penchant for banging beats that they spent some time having it large during the rave years. Having tried out their brand of driving techno with live guitar at an Electronic Music Open Mic (EMOM) night a few months ago, this is the duo’s first gig proper, and they’ve got things pretty tight. The first track is a bit Utah Saints, but with more of drum ‘n’ bass leaning – and the drums and bass are both thunderous. Are they rock with rave beats, or rave with rock guitars? However you slant it, the sound is outstanding. Crisp and clear, the beats are pounding and the heavily processed guitar is like a tweaking Roland TR303. Midway through, they drop their eponymous track and it simply explodes both in energy and volume – and while the chorus of ‘We ain’t no kid and we ain’t no squid!’ might not be the pinnacle of poeticism, it’s good fun – and factually accurate. These things matter. The set culminates in a frenzy of flange. That’s good fun, too, and that’s a fair summary of what KKS are about: not so serious, hi-NRG, fun times.

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Kid Kid Squid

I’m not sure what happened to the Old Concordia – apart from the Polish-built sailing training vessel which capsized and sank off the coast of Brazil in 2010. Sturdy drumming and soaring guitar definite their alt-rock sound. They’re solid and then some, and it’s a remarkably confident debut (they’ve both played before, and together, but this is their first outing as a two-piece). Atmospheric passages fill the space between songs, thus avoiding awkward silence or – worse – awkward chat and banter. They must have poured some hours into rehearsing to come out this fully formed. I’ve no idea where the bass was coming from. The drummer isn’t wearing headphones, so there’s nothing to indicate a click track or sequencing, but there must be something happening behind the scenes. Maybe it’s simply the power of the mind and some kind of magic. But what’s behind the scenes is immaterial, really. Out front, we get blistering guitars, chunky riffs and some of the most incredible drumming. Verdict in short: amazing. Horsemusic have done it again in introducing us to another act worthy of national attention.

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New Concordia

Megafragma are a relatively new act, but comprising some old faces, including, on guitars, Alexander King, of Glass / The Sound of Glass – quite possibly one of the most preposterously pretentious bands I’ve ever witnessed. But hey, he’s only the guitarist and backing vocalist, right? Right.

They rock up in red jumpsuits: that’s ok. The Wharf Street Galaxy Band, one of the finest acts to evert emerge from York / Leeds wore red boiler suits. And these guys are tight. Polished. Slick… They’re an amalgamation of post-rock, post metal, post post… which is actually pretty cool. But they do go a bit punk-pop and demonstrate some emo leanings, which is less so. Still, I could let that go… There’s a niggle here, and I need to chew on it while I dissect.

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Megafragma

More than just a click track, they have electronic drums augmenting the live kit. The bass is a bit buried in the mix, but still, they sound super-slick, anthemic, arena-standard and the drums – which are technically faultless – are well up in the mix and propel the songs along with a dynamic force. This is not your average pub-gig band, and the set is loaded with the wow factor. But the songs… pause and exhale… are quite forgettable. As the set progresses, it becomes increasingly apparent that this is very much a case of kit over content. More like Middlingfragma. They sound immense, but hollow. Technically superlative, but missing some essential ingredients, namely soul, and passion.

I can’t grumble too hard: three high-quality bands for £0, and pints in proper glasses for £5.20. This is where it’s at.

Christopher Nosnibor

Two of the bands on tonight’s bill are fairly regular features here on Aural Aggravation: Knitting Circle have established themselves as solid staples of the York scene as exponents of pissed-off, political post-punk, while WENCH! originally from Hull but now a Leeds band on account of two-thirds of their members having relocated, are always worth making the effort to turn out for whenever they’re in the locale. But what’s particularly noteworthy about tonight’s lineup is that not only do we have three female-fronted acts, but more women on stage than men. This matters, because female representation is a topic which has been cycling in discussion for a few years now, and becomes particularly prominent when festival lineups are announced. There’s no shortage of women in music, either in bands or as solo performers, so why are so many gigs, and festivals in particular, so male-dominated? That’s perhaps a rhetorical question, but still. What’s more, it’s becoming increasingly apparent that women often rock harder than men. Perhaps it’s because they feel they have more to prove. Perhaps it’s because they’ve more to be angry about. There’s a lot to be angry about right now, of course, and that’s a dissertation in itself. I’m angry, as are most people I know. But as a white, middle class, and (reluctantly) middle-aged male, I recognise I don’t have centuries of patriarchal oppression and daily sexism and misogyny to push back on.

Up first, Knitting Circle open with ‘Where’s the Culture?’, which sets the tone in terms of the conversation sand the musical form – catchy, scratchy, and challenging the (patriarchal) status quo. ‘I am the Fox’ (a song against fox-hunting, told from the perspective of the fox) is particularly tense and bristly, part of its guitar line leaning heavily on ‘Not Great Men’ by Gang of Four. The fact that Pete Dale can actually play cutty, trebly guitar lines which are of a standard which puts him in the same frame as Andy Gill is testament to his guitar mastery. While there are new songs in their nine-song set, the fact that only one of them – set closer, ‘Losing My Eggs’ – is from their EP, and single, ‘Safe Routes’, which they dedicate to the RNLI has otherwise been released evidences the pace of their creative flow.

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Knitting Circle

It’s worth taking a momentary side-step here. This song feels even more poignant and important than ever: a few days ago, right-wing agitator Daniel Thomas, who seems to think that forming a masked militia is the pinnacle of patriotism, was filmed slashing a dinghy in the English Channel. Not by a news crew, but by an accomplice. And he posted it on social media to demonstrate his fierce opposition to ‘illegal’ immigrants – but in court pleaded not guilty to the actions he himself had shared evidence of. Then cried like a child when remanded in custody. Of course. But these so-called ‘illegal’ immigrants… where are the legal routes? They don’t exist. Meaning, we currently have no safe routes. But we do have a lot of people fleeing war… and then these right-wing fuckheads decide that the RNLI – an emergency service run by volunteers – are the bad guys for rescuing people from the sea, and are legitimate targets for abuse and intimidation. How low can you get, eh? This is why we need Knitting Circle more than ever – to remind us that not everyone is a nasty piece of shit with a racist agenda when things get bleak. And things are bleak right now.

Oh, but Under the Influence are an absolute revelation. Woah. The ‘UTI’ acronym is no accident, of course. Their objective is to sting. And they do, hitting hard with their brand of fast and furious authentic hardcore punk / grunge crossover. It’s not hard to see why the anarcho-noise Sheffield trio have scored support slots with the likes of Subhumans and Discharge and a Rebellion booking. Maisie’s vocals are a combination of ear-splitting screams and full-lunged roaring… and she plays her guitar so hard that her bottom E string goes in third song, ‘Dead Babies’. “Bollocks,” and “Fuck it,” she says, like a true plain-speaking Northerner. After some deliberation, she humbly accepts the offer of the loan of Pete from Knitting Circle’s guitar with which to play the rest of the set. ‘7 Naans’ – about ordering takeaway – shouldn’t be terrifying, but with a rabid Courtney Love howl it is positively nerve-shattering. They’re passionate, sincere, and not without humour. They have a song called ‘Vegan Reich’ simply because they hate the band Vegan Reich (which is a perfectly sound reason in my opinion). Eyes wide, Maisie spits and screeches words at a rate of nineteen to the dozen, backed by some ferocious drumming and thunderous bass.

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Under the Influence

Are we ready to be WENCHED? Well, as ready as well ever be ready to be hit with a shovel after being slammed with the two-by-four that was UTI. This is a band that brings all the attack and play so, so hard: the energy is infectious, and it’s like an electric current circulating through your body. During the very first song of the set, bassist Hebe loses her strap and singing drummer Kit sheds a cymbal. They don’t miss a beat or a note. Musically, they’re outstanding, and different in their compositional approach, with the bass often fulfilling the lead role. There are dual vocals, too, shared between guitarist Sev, and Kit, whose style is – at least in places, quite technical and almost jazzy, but played with metal force. Other times, she leans forward over her drums with an ogre-like posture and just fucking goes all out, and it’s brilliant to watch – not just her playing, but the interaction between the three and how they coalesce to create something so immensely powerful. They’re also disarmingly direct and spontaneous in between songs. This shouldn’t be mistaken for being amateurish by any means, but gives an insight into a band which is keeping it real in the truest sense. What you see is what you get. And what you see is three women who believe in social justice and not just women’s rights and feminist issues, but human rights and making the world a better place.

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WENCH!

‘Deep Fake’ may be slower, with a psych-hued swing, but it’s certainly no gentler, and their set is a combination of hooks and rage. They blast through the songs in significantly less than the allotted time, but they’ve done the job and then some.

For all of the anger, the rage which emanated from the stage, tonight felt like one of the most uplifting, unifying events imaginable. The bands – all articulating dissatisfaction with the status quo, speaking out against shit governments and shit behaviour – brought, in their own ways, a positive message and a sense that together, we can make things better, and in the meantime, we can have a blast venting through music. In the face of everything, we have to have hope. Tonight gave a vital reminder that we do. It also evidences why we shouldn’t aspire to keep politics out of music. Because politics affects all of us, every day, and using a platform to take a stand is a powerful, and positive thing. Here, we stand unified in hope, and against hate.

Tartarus Records – 2nd October 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

Sometimes, and album comes crashing in and you feel its impact hard. It’s not so much an album as a massive detonation. A work that redefines its genre. An album that blows the top off our head.

Big Enemy by Bombstrap is that album. It’s s throbbing, gnarly, primitive punk album. So what’ s special about that? Bombstrap are special, in presenting a skin-peeling, furious rage what hurts. It’s not in any way refined or pretty, it’s raw and gritty and it’s real.

According to their bio, they were ‘born inside Rotterdam’s anarchist Poortgebouw community in 2025’and ‘have quickly established themselves as one of the most uncompromising new names in underground hardcore. Split between Manchester and Rotterdam, the four piece channels nihilism, black alchemy, and ultraviolence into a feral sound that owes as much to No Trend and Total Abuse as it does to a complete rejection of authority and conformity’.

They describe Big Enemy as ‘a blast of caustic, explosive hardcore delivered with ruthless precision’, and add that ‘Fueled by nihilism and anarchic conviction, the album is a sonic bullet aimed squarely at the heart of a corrupt society, uncompromising, abrasive, and impossible to ignore’. It’s hard to argue.

On the album’s second track, ‘Master Alchemist’, they step up and turn everything up to the max, and there’s no letup from hereon in. This is an album that grazes and cuts hard. Some of the bruising, raging noise belongs to the spirit of the early 90s – not just grunge, but riot grrl – but equally, Bombstrap belong the domain of hardcore punk and noise rock, and Big Enemy s a rabid and positively feral scream. This is an angry, explosive work. Every track is killer – and a pure distillation of nihilistic punk rage. ‘Machhiavellianism’ is, like half of the tracks on Big Enemy, well short of two minutes long – in fact, it’s only a second over one minute – and in that time they bring punk energy and a hundred miles an hour. There’s more than a dash of The Dead Kennedys to ‘Bakhmut’, and the final track, ‘Poppy Seeds’ is manic and packs a swaggering rock ‘n’ roll riff.

Big Enemy isn’t just a metaphorical ‘fuck you’ to the big enemy in all its forms – big government, corporations, billionaires, and all the rest, but a literal one, with a raging, exasperated ‘fuck you’ being a common refrain across the album’s ten tracks. And too right: sometimes, there are no other words that do the job, and all there is, is to scream out the most primal of invective. Big Enemy is Bombstrap telling it like it is. No bullshit, no pretence, Bombstrap are the real deal.

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Christopher Nosnibor

Llama Mollo have a lot of family and friends. And they’ve brought them all down. It feels more like a second cousin’s birthday party than five minutes after doors open for a gig showcasing a disparate bunch of bands when I arrive. My first thought is of how the grannies will take to Bitchcraft. My second thought was ‘good for them’. They’ve bought tickets and made the effort, which is more than can be said for many on a lot occasions, and maybe they’ll even have a good time.

The acoustic indie duo have some tidy tunes with poetical lyrics and deft guitar lines, and if they’re nervous making their debut, they don’t show it beyond the occasional awkward-sounding laugh. The reverb-soaked guitar part for ‘Inconspicuous’ has hints of Chris Isaak’s ‘Wicked Game’, and the song sees them share vocal duties for the first time in their seven-song set. In an unexpected plot twist, Lawrence (guitar and vocals) switches to electric guitar and takes the lead on the vocals for the last song, and there’s a drum machine pumping from the PA. ‘Mr Blue Shoes’ is post-punky and makes for quite the shift in every way, and, seemingly from out of nowhere, tells us that this is an act who have a lot up their sleeve, and much potential to explore. A very promising first outing, and one to add to the watchlist for 2027.

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Llama Mollo

BitchCraft spent their uni years developing their skills, and recently relocated to London to further evolve and to see if they can progress. On the evidence of tonight’s hometown return – holy shit. Leaps and bounds, leaps and bounds. There have been some moves in their ranks. Their new singer, Lily, is the former drummer who would previously switch with singer Amelie to front a couple of songs, and stepping up to take the mic on a full-time basis she’s really come into her own. It’s not just the vocals – which are so, so powerful, and she’s got a proper grunge roar that sends shivers down the spine and sets the hairs on the back of your neck aquiver – but she is a commanding presence who dominates the stage, and the entire room. The new drummer is powerful and energetic, too. The result is a set that’s raw, grungy, and finds them playing better than ever. New song ‘Loser’ hints at a poppier direction, and has swing as well as crunch. And then they close with a cover of L7’s ‘Shitlist.’ They absolutely nail it. They’re pure quality, and deserve a bright future in the big smoke.

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BitchCraft

There’s a certain element of controlled chaos about Chaffinch set – and a certain element of chaos without the control. The jarring interplay of the twin guitars sees them trading shards of treble over thick, rolling basslines and stop-start drums. The song structures aren’t conventional or even necessarily obvious, and there are parts which are semi-improvised, and not for the first time, I’m reminded of Shellac in they combine math-rock and noise-rock, discord and angularity. There’s not a moment where all four of them are on the stage (which makes getting a shot of the whole band a challenge, and the guitars are more often than not played in front of the stage and there are trailing cables and instrument swaps… although at least on this outing there’s enough concrete in front of the bass drum to keep the kit in place instead of encroaching forward towards the edge of what is a particularly bijou stage. But herein lies the joy of a Chaffinch set: there’s a physicality, a kineticism, to the performance, and just as the songs are in a state of continual flux, so there is perpetual movement on (and in front of) the stage, making for a hyperstimulating and highly entertaining experience.

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Chaffinch

Due to a late reshuffling of the schedule, Manchester’s Oort Clod, who should have been the main support before BitchCraft, find themselves in the headline slot. No pressure, then. They do a decent job of it, too, encouraged by a supportive and welcoming crowd, a respectable number of who have stuck around from the start. This is one of the things which makes these Utterly Fuzzled nights what they are: people turn up and are open to hearing different stuff, accepting they won’t love all the acts equally but providing a warm and accommodating atmosphere. It’s a DIY microscene unto itself, in some ways resembling that which centred around CHUNK in Leeds a few years ago, and the likes of which is rare – but absolutely vital for showcasing new and up-and-coming and niche acts.

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Oort Clod

Oort Clod present a set of two distinct halves: during the first, they’re a fairly middling jangly indie band in the British tradition of the mid-80s to early 90s. They avoid being twee, but are good fun. And then there’s the second half, which sees them turn towards a style that’s more US indie / college rock of the mid- to late-nineties. It’s a bit looser, more Pavementy. The switch is occasioned by a poetry intermission, during which bassist Richie, whose last gig it is before he goes travelling and exploring a career in writing reads a couple of pieces from his chapbook. It’s a bold move, which some would probably consider a bit wanky, but they wear their arty and literary leanings well, and with an admirable confidence. He is, after all, wearing a brocade jacket and thoroughly beaten-up hat perched atop his head, and if the wild amp feedback mars the moment somewhat, the fact they style it out with humour reveals the character of the band – and it makes them a good fit for Fuzzled, where there are no divas, no dickheads, and everything runs to time. And it’s a 10pm finish. All the win.

The Flenser – 4th September 2025

Christopher Nosnibor

Chat Pile have only been around for seven years, but in that time they’ve cemented themselves as among the leading exponents of contemporary noise rock. Timing, when even accidental, counts for so much, though. Their debut EP landed in the spring of 2019, with the follow-up coming towards the end of the year. They were hardly a hit on their local scene, and then there was the pandemic, which did nothing for any band looking to build a fanbase through live shows. They managed to get signed, but it seems that the key element in their favour was the fact that since the pandemic, everything has been utterly fucked. Fucked beyond words, fucked beyond comprehension. And this is why the world has been crying out for horrible, sludgy noise to give a voice or a home to those myriad confused emotions, for a band that speaks both to and for them.

Who Loves The Sun is their third album, and it’s worth stepping back from my review to quote from the bio which accompanies the album, since it provides valuable context and traces the band’s evolution: ‘Whereas their debut album God’s Country depicted a particularly American flavor of dread, and the follow up Cool World showed a cruel planet defined by global systemic violence, Who Loves The Sun now peels back the skin on how a collective indifference for a decaying world defines this new century. Touring off the back of their previous albums in part lent itself a confidence in the universality of their music. Stin comments, “I’ve always felt that Chat Pile is such an American concept thematically, but it seems like that’s not particularly true – people all over the world are resonating with what we have to say.” Spanning imagery of coastlines devouring cities as a result of inaction on climate change, the dread of working dead-end jobs, and the species’ collective submission to data-driven inauthenticity, Who Loves The Sun depicts the common experience of existing in a doom loop which feeds the malaise that permeates all aspects of our lives.’

And yes: these are global issues they tackle here. America might be a bit more fucked than some other places, but ultimately, we’re all fucked (in part because of America, although that’s no fault of these guys).

It’s a murky, rolling drum, bouncing around in a sea of reverb which launches the album, ‘Creature’ lurching in mid-pace with a filthy bass and some sinewy guitar. The atmosphere is tense, the vibe mid-90s gnarly. I’m straight back to Touch ‘n’ Go and underground scuzz, the grainy gritty heft of Tad, Oil Seed Rape, Zoopsia, It’s heavy, alright, but it’s more than that: it’s sweaty, greasy, and it’s intense. The walls move closer, the air becomes denser, and it’s harder to breathe.

Who Loves The Sun isn’t a hooks and choruses album. It’s a thick, treacle-like trudge through a succession of gut-churning riffs. As such, it’s very much the soundtrack to the trawling through doom loops. On the face of things, they don’t sound like a band with massive international appeal, but the same was true of Nirvana and Slipknot. It’s more Bleach than Nervermind, though. The world at large massively underestimates the need to vent complex emotions through difficult, heavy music, and if anything, the last few years have elicited the need for music that’s darker and heavier than ever. It feels like we’re living in the end of times, and we need music that reflects it.

‘Break my face and call me your friend,’ Raygun Busch sings in a cracked, tired voice during a quiet moment on ‘Deep Blue’. Most of the vocals are either screams or otherwise buried amidst the wall of jagged riffery. ‘Same Rules’ starts quiet and dungy, and explodes into a nihilistic roar. Neither are friendly, but both articulate the existence within dark spaces, both internal and external.

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Landing mid-album, ‘Shrine’ is a classic quiet / loud composition , and it captures the grunge feel but with additional metal fury, and a harsh hybridization that blends metal with grunge filth. The same could be said of most of Who Loves The Sun. It’s dark, it’s jarring, and is heavy. It’s bleak and does nothing to entice you out to a brighter space. ‘Influence’ simply becomes more claustrophobic over its four-and-a-half-minute duration as it stomps its concentric circles of anger and anguish. ‘Family Funeral’ strays towards Shellac territory as it builds a bludgeoning wall of noise ahead of closer ‘October all the Time’. This is not an accessible or easy album. But it’s the album we need to express all of the angst that’s pouring in all directions right now. It’s also the answer to how we will get through it all. More big riffs. And more again.

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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