Jim Ward has been making music since 1993; first as a founding member of At The Drive-In and then for 25 years with Sparta. He’s a musician with a lot of experience and he’s still making music, but has it lost its pull? Should you quake with fear? Is the record like a trip to the dentist?

The answer is a resounding “no”. ‘Cut A Silhouette’ is Sparta’s sixth album, the third since ending their creative hiatus in 2020. It’s an album clearly trying to recapture something. The title implies an outline or a shape they’re trying to fit into, but it turns out it’s not a sound they’re after. It’s a feeling.

Opening with ‘Split Lip’, the band quickly establish that they’re playing with the familiar Sparta sound. It’s post-hardcore, usually with a verse/chorus structure. There are lead guitars threaded through the songs, often playing around with different effects pedals for texture, and there’s a mix of sung and lightly shouted vocals – that sound. However, you can’t ignore the bigger, stadium, U2 edge to songs like ‘Mystery Of Missing’ and ‘Daydream’. That’s the shape they’re after – that’s the feeling. It’s like breathing – a combination of the intimate and the exhale.

Sparta’s defining feature (as with At The Drive-In) is the approach to lead guitar. Each song is shaped by guitar effects. On the louder songs like ‘Split Lip’ it lends definition. Notably, the sliding, pinching riff on ‘Mystery Of Missing’, or the really noisy blast of lead on ‘Everything You Say’, offer a slightly dangerous thrill and a knife-edge of tension. Elsewhere, on ‘See You Soon‘ and the soft, sparkly ‘Midnights’, they lend a soft atmosphere, enhancing Ward’s songwriting, which is remarkably strong.

Of course, Ward’s work exists in the shadow of At The Drive-In but what’s interesting about that is how it affects his place in culture. He was part of a band that sparked a genre and a movement, whose music captured a moment, whose subsequent work rode that momentum, but who then aged and evolved out of that centre of gravity – it leaves him in a strange place. Sparta have a certain cultural cache that allows them to retain an audience but they actually exist outside the bubble of mainstream excitement. It gives them licence to be creative, to soften the edges and to create something personal, for not just Ward, but for bassist Matt Miller and drummer Neil Hennessy too. The album’s sound relies on them actively working together in a room. You can hear this clearly on the stunning ‘Mouthbreather’, where the shuffling drums and twangy bass create an anxious tension, or ‘Crater’, where the interlocking parts function like a machine, allowing Ward’s vocals to drift gracefully over the top. It gives the record a newfound vitality, meaning it’s about recapturing that pull – the outline may be be similar to previous work but the figure casting the silhouette is revitalised.

Creativity and time have an unusual relationship. While you’re unlikely to write a symphony in a week, working quickly and under pressure can force innovation. This was Ward’s experience of making early records and the intention here was to capture the early thrill; not overthink, not overplay, just feel what is right. Given the evidence here, it appears to be a great way of working. Produced, engineered and recorded by J. Robbins, they have managed to capture a focused and fresh sound that wrings every bit of emotion from the songs. Perhaps the clearest example is the relatively stripped-back ‘Glimmer’, a quality piece of songwriting presented in a way that enhances its delicate vocal parts and allows the burnished honesty to shine through.

In many ways the record flows like a river. Although songs like ‘Without Your Hands’ offer a blast of energy, it feels like it’s flowing downhill, losing momentum but becoming broader as it does. In the second half the waltzy style of ‘I’ll See You Soon’ brings a pleasing change of pace, while ‘Mystery Of Missing’ feels like a crowd pleaser. Finally, ‘Glimmer’ sighs out the last of its energy in a wash of guitar effects like the mouth of an estuary meeting the sea.

Sitting in that chair, staring at the silhouette in the doorway, you don’t know what to expect, but with the strength of experience Sparta prove that musicians don’t age like dentists. They have more than just pull, they have their own gravity. ‘Cut A Silhouette’ is one of their most intimate and compelling records. A combination of inspiration, great songs and strict production choices make for an intoxicating mixture. Take a mouthful, rinse it around and you’ll find it leaves a strong taste.

IAN KENWORTHY

The album’s cover features the four band members, blurred and dyed red; the colour of anger, love and danger. It’s a deeply fitting choice for music that feels passionate and devilish. Each of the ten songs feels like an idea expressed thoughtfully but with an air of recklessness. Compared to their previous album, 2020’s understated ‘Nothing As The Ideal’, it’s far more upbeat and creative and, because it’s almost uninterested in compromise, the tone and energy shift wildly throughout its runtime. This isn’t a bad thing as it all operates within certain parameters and styles that make the whole thing work remarkably well, despite its scope.

As their band’s name implies, the sound is a bubbling brew of folk rock, sludge and doom, with a healthy dose of blues. Each song contains a different mix of these elements and each sits somewhere between Monolord, Cave-In and the White Stripes. It’s an unusual but effective mix.

The whole record is built upon shifts in style and tone that feel both atmospheric and surprisingly effective. At their heaviest, the crushingly eerie ‘Red Rocking Chair’ uses slow, quaking riffs and spoken word to give it authority, while ‘Angel on the Wayside’ is a bluesy number with so much energy it bounds around like a puppy. At the other end of the scale, ‘Starting Line’ feels almost like a folk song until its emotional strings tighten, pulling it in a different direction entirely.

The album’s strongest feature is the way the band balance the different musical styles and the energy between them. ‘The Welterweight’ and ‘Saturn Song’ use fast, muted guitars to give them a sense of urgency and momentum but it’s a sound that sits slightly at odds with the way the songs unfold, giving them a mischievous air. Similarly, ‘Turn On The Light’ marches along on a comfortable, shrugging guitar part, right until its dynamic changes like a twisting knife.

Although the record’s greatest strength is the interplay between band members, the production work by Eddie Spear at Blackbird Studio in Nashville allows the different elements to slot together like a puzzle. It’s notable how much creative energy drummer Christian Powers brings to the album too, and the heavy booming sound gives them a strong presence, particularly on ‘Turn On The Light’. The rides (and the metallic Ting sounds) under ‘Hold Up, Say What?’ also give it a strong character. However, the record’s sound is best defined by the tangible bass and guitars, sounding grubby and lived-in as they express their ideas. Notably, ‘Culling Line’ leans back on a heavy sludge riff that allows the guitar to sing over the top and its biting, emotional tone. It’s a beautiful piece of work.

One of the album’s most compelling elements is its sequencing. Like on their previous record, the various shifts in style lend an unusual energy. After moving slowly in one direction, it shifts, giving it a strange and unpredictable quality. Track four ‘Hold Up, Say What?’ is such a straight-up noisy rock song that it arrives like a shock and feels strangely out of place despite giving the album a huge jolt of energy. Similarly, the lively ‘Angel On The Wayside’ feels as if it’s stepping in a different direction to the proceeding songs, like a kind of musical square dance. That said, the variety of styles makes it difficult to decide if there is a more effective track order. Either way, the slightly bumpy ride is part of the charm.

The album’s title tells you a lot about its themes. The idea of the self being reflective, of recursive ideas and repeated patterns. The most straightforward use of this idea is the droning blues riffs under ‘Aethernet’ or the repeating patterns of ‘Angel On The Wayside’. Both songs treat this as a basis and then break free of the patterns. It’s a striking form of expression, especially as they are using sounds honed over years of commitment.

All Them Witches are reborn on their new record. As the title suggests, ‘House Of Mirrors’ is a familiar space crammed with new ways of seeing themselves. It’s a brilliant, beguiling piece of work.

IAN KENWORTHY

Three things define the music on ‘Salvo’; alt rock, a flair for the dramatic and a love for the gothic, so you can’t help but compare it to My Chemical Romance. Notably, the opening song ‘Little Promises’ switches between verse and chorus in a way that shares the same vibe as My Chemical Romance’s biggest hits. Meanwhile, the opening moments of ‘The Murder Capital‘ could almost be an extract from ‘Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge’. This isn’t simple copying though. There’s more to the sound. It’s ambitious and very much trying to be its own thing.

After setting the tone on two fairly distinctive rock songs, they deploy ‘Unholy’ as the central showpiece. With a big opening riff, a nod to 80’s hard-rock histrionics and a theatrical outro, it’s the band saying this is what we can do. It’s the highlight, make no mistake. That’s in part because, while the energetic ‘Incantation’ and the punchy ‘Little Promises’ are also strong songs too, the EP overall plays it safe. Given the type of music, the type of band and the EP’s title, you’d expect The Howling to try and blow your socks off, but it’s not like that. It’s cautious. There’s no short, snappy single or anything truly gonzo to catch your attention.

Luckily, however, the vocals are quite distinctive with a delicious and slightly creepy tone, especially when they’re leaning into a more emotional register. This is notable on ‘Incantation’, which is the definition of an earworm as you can feel the phrase ‘join me’ slowly burying into your brain and lodging itself there. Despite working well, it might not hook you the first time and this is true of the EP as a whole. The reason for this is the band’s other big influence, The Smashing Pumpkins, as well as the way they lean toward an alt-rock sense of richness and scope rather than punky accessibility. This extends to the production choices, meaning the sound is thick and layered with quite sharp edges. It’s an interesting and unusual choice that makes the EP feel like a distinct piece of work. However, it does cause problems on ‘The Murder Capital’, where the song winds down after less than two minutes and its aggressive outro solo gets lost somewhere in the watery layering. Similarly, the closing ballad ‘New Religion’ builds from a simple vocal into a style that’s fitting but not exactly gripping, meaning the EP’s closing act holds together like a damp tissue.

The Howling have style but ‘Salvo’ proves they have substance. It’s a solid if uneven debut from a promising new band.

IAN KENWORTHY

Let’s change tack a moment. Let’s talk about WREX. Their history is a little complicated, but basically they’re a punk rock duo. Singer Mae Seaton and vocalist/guitarist George Donoghue released their first proper EP ‘This Hell Goes A Long Way Down’ in 2024. Since then they’ve been establishing themselves as an uncompromising live band ready for their second act. Their core sound is punk rock mixed with metal riffs and loops. The two vocalists trade parts. You could compare them to The Subways but the closest comparison is probably Hot Milk but with a 90’s aesthetic, and it’s that which defines them; the choice of melodies, the dirty sound, drum loops that feel so analogue. It’s lo-fi and honest. Embracing those rough edges gives their music texture at odds to many modern records. It’s neither smoothed or blended, and is pleasantly gritty.

WREX are unafraid to use their voices in interesting ways. Alongside singing there is spoken word on ‘111’, rapped verses on ‘Paranoia’ and slightly weird melodies on ‘Consume’. In fact, the EP’s most striking feature is the way the two vocalists work around each other – not with each other. Rather than taking turns, it’s like a rowdy crowd trying to squeeze past each other to be heard. It gives the songs crackly energy and an air of unpredictably.

The EP’s artwork, a black, stark square with the name imposed in white is a huge contrast to that of their debut. It’s darker, austere and very clear about its contents. Each song echoes this. Each is actively trying something different. ‘Paranoia’ is laced with riffs and harmonic guitar squeals. ‘Consume’ is based on swaggering nu-metal and a strange mid-section. ‘111’ makes a big deal of lasting one minute and eleven seconds and uses this time to build momentum. However, it’s not a traditional “short song” and its end is abrupt and unnatural. Similarly, the excellent piano ballad ‘A Thousand Ways’ surrenders itself to a drum loop and then, just stops. It’s intentionally jarring, and creates the same effect. Combined with the strong mental health theme and the fourth track literally being called ‘The Noose’, it becomes a clear, intentional statement. However, it also means 40% of the songs are cut short. It’s an artistic compromise that draws attention from the frankly excellent songwriting elsewhere.

As we said at the beginning, mental health problems can be a mixture of conflicting emotions, discordant voices, the downbeat and uplifting struggling with each other. They can be a mix of explosive energy and abrupt endings. WREX have distilled this into their new EP. ‘SADWORLD’ is a stunning piece of art but only a taste of what they’re capable of.

IAN KENWORTHY

After sporadically touring as a ‘hobby’, that wait is over. They have finally followed it up with ‘Prang’. After such a long time, it’s hard to know what to expect. Listen back to those big singles, and they show the band at their most straightforward. Most of their discography is weirder. Some consider them a pop punk band, but their music has little in common with Green Day or Blink-182. It’s a distinctive sound that leans more toward rock, but their songs don’t follow a template. Each feels different yet is clearly the work of the same band. ‘Prang’ shares these features, in effect it sounds exactly like a record made by A after a 20-odd year break, which is both its strength and weakness.

Broadly, the difference between this record and those from their heyday is it is being released by Cooking Vinyl and not a subsidiary of Warner Brothers. There is no pressure to write a huge chart-topping banger, so they haven’t. Instead, the songs lean in different, more interesting directions. It means the album is stranger than you might expect, taking longer to settle into, but it’s also comfortably the band’s most consistent record. In essence, it’s confident, unfiltered and delightfully weird.

Way back in the ‘Hi-fi Serious’ days, the band’s guitarist Marc Chapman appeared in Total Guitar Magazine. The article discussed his left-handed playing style and love for guitar solos. Here you can hear those skills being put to good use. While there is plenty of showing off, like the louche guitar solo on ‘Shit Summer’ or the wicked fretwork on ‘Kings Of Lowestoft’, mostly he’s writing interesting, thoughtful parts. Notably there’s a great interpretation of the classic ‘I Love Rock ‘N’ Roll’ on ‘All In’ which deploys the lick like an offensive weapon. Similarly, the hard sound that opens ‘Hello Sunshine’ has teeth but it chews rather than bites. The whole record is like this, in effect, tasteful.

That said the sound is surprisingly punk, featuring a rough, anything-goes edge that a lot of pop punk doesn’t. It’s most obvious on the delightfully rowdy ‘Techno Viking’ but even the more rocky ‘Back To The Shop’ feels nicely dangerous. Similarly ‘Walkover’ has a fast sway, driven by the snapping drumbeat.

The most notable thing, and perhaps shines a light on what it is that makes A so distinctive, is that the songs refuse to stay in one shape. This is a double edged sword. The band’s biggest hits are relatively straightforward and delight in repetition. Here they avoid that. Giles Perry’s keyboards are quite often used to give the songs a strange vibe or transition the song to a different space. In the case of ‘Bring On The Likes‘ it’s an awe-inspiring shift.

Jason Perry remains an ideal frontman. He’s armed with a distinctive voice that sounds unique, no matter how he expresses himself, along with a wicked sense of humour, a distaste for simple song structures and a restless creative energy. Throughout the record he favours a slacker vocal that is a mixture of singing, spoken word and melody. It’s tamed by age, but also bubbling with enthusiasm there is a cheekiness and a defined sense of humour. After the band’s initial run he worked as a professional songwriter, producing Grammy winning records, which might explain why this record sound so good. It’s biting and bassy but with a pleasing depth so that through decent headphones you can feel its rich tone.

Where once Jason Perry mocked old people as “losers” for not being able to use computers, here he’s cast as an old person himself struggling with the online world. It’s a canny choice and tells you a lot about his state of mind, although not quite as much as the discussion of mental health and struggling with cancer on the aptly named ‘Shit Summer’.

‘Bring On The Likes’ feels very much like a companion piece to their 1999 single ‘Old Folks’. It’s a stunning, spoken word, almost stream of conscious song. Indeed, Perry uses this approach on numerous tracks, it’s curious approach and defines the record’s entire feel. Often, he makes strange choices work counter to you’d expect, given the music. Take songs like ‘Back To The Shop’ which have a real “why would you use that as a chorus” vibe. It’s a common theme, a mismatch between what Jason Perry is doing and what you might expect. This is unusual and ultimately robs the album of a couple of straight-up classics, and yet, it gives the songs a strong character. This simply couldn’t be another record by another band.

‘Comment Leaver’ is sung from the perspective of a Daily Mail reader and is a barbed disassembly of that type of person. It also requires him to sing “I’m a little racist” which is a choice. Indeed this is a record full of interesting creative decisions, strong song writing and a talent that has aged like a fine wine.

‘Prang’ lacks a big, simple single to really grab you by both ears but it’s easily A’s most consistent album. It’s a record about finding humour in the passage of time, about having fun and keeping the spark alive. It’s about joy, it’s about love and if we ain’t got that then we ain’t got much and we ain’t got nothing, nothing.

IAN KENWORTHY

Dani Nigro and Keaton Whittaker are two creatives. They’re not tethered to a band structure. That means changing their sound is easier. Indeed, their press releases talk breathlessly of the producers they have worked with. This isn’t unusual, but you can’t really predict the results. Thankfully, the EP turns out to be a complete flex, designed to show off exactly what they can do.

Daisy Grenade’s sound is best described as teenage punk rock, like We Are The In Crowd, Yours Truly or Avril Lavigne’s mischievous era. The duo fill that same youthful alt-pop niche but this EP is the sound of them growing up. It can be divided into three acts which track that evolution; ACT I feels young and boisterous. ACT III feels older and more mature. Sandwiched between them, of course, is ACT II – an enormous nervous breakdown.

The first two songs making up ACT I are a mix of the same scrappy punk rock attitude and hook-filled choruses that defined their 2024 EP ‘Cult Classic’. Opener  ‘A Beautiful Woman Is A Weapon, I Guess That’s Why They Call Her A Bombshell’ is built around a huge push and pull vocal, designed to catch you by both ears. It’s a rowdy and exciting slice of pop-punk that feels totally unchained. On ‘Emily’, this sound is pared back in favour of a sly piece of verbal assassination aimed at the titular character.

‘Girls Are So Lucky’ sits at the record’s centre. Produced and co-written by Grammy Award-winning producer Pom Pom, it’s completely different to all the other songs here and actively feels like a single. It features a repeating hook and a processed vocal at odds with the duo’s singing styles, similar to last year’s single ‘Don’t Sweat It’. Beginning with a looped, detuned guitar riff it, uses the phrase ‘so lucky’ as a soft hook only to collapse into a dubstep-style breakdown. It’s miles from the other songs, and yet it oozes the quality you’d expect from a Grammy Award-winning co-writer.

During ACT III they reach a more mature alt-rock sound, but with that same pleasingly barbed lyrical tone. The simple guitar part underpinning ‘Rent To Own’ is bathed in chorus, making it soft and quite lovely, and then expands into something bigger and bolder for its finale. Similarly, ‘It Must Be Me’ soars back for an epic, closing chorus, but sadly the singer’s voice isn’t powerful enough for it to work as intended, creating this frankly bizarre denouement where the vocal sits at odds with the music. It’s a slightly odd ending, but again shows that maturity.

Daisy Grenade truly have ‘So Much To Say’ on their new EP. It neatly mirrors growing up; boisterous, keen to experiment and a little bit messy.

IAN KENWORTHY

Dead Pony are a rock band whose music mixes swaying, swaggery riffs with repeating vocal patterns, but not just that. There’s a thrilling sense of adventure to their music. You’re never quite sure what to expect.

‘What If?’ begins with a repeating piano part, like an evil version of Madonna’s ‘Frozen’. It threatens to head towards pop music territory before descending into buzzing, technical riffing and distorted screams. In doing so, it raises a middle finger to expectations while setting the stage for what comes next. Essentially, each song features a brilliant setup before plunging headfirst into new ideas. It can be heard as the boisterous ‘BOOM!’ shifts gears or in the nest of electronic spiders that replaces a guitar solo on ‘Eat My Dust!’. It’s all slick and never feels unwarranted. Imagine a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat; you know what’s coming but can’t help but be impressed by the flourish.

As the name suggests, ‘Freak Like Me’ is a delightfully weird song that uses soundscapes and an interesting sonic palette alongside chainsaw-like guitars that push Dead Pony into the same sonic spaces as Nine Inch Nails.

The EP is again produced by guitarist Blair Crichton. This is the key. While affording one person such creative control can be risky, here, his wild ideas are expressed with confidence. He also captures an indefinable sense of glee. It’s hard to listen to ‘Freak Like Me‘ or ‘BOOM!‘ without imagining Crichton in the control room, grinning like a torturer as the music contorts into some striking shapes. Even the relatively straightforward ‘Fury’ has every drop of excitement squeezed from it.

Returning to the piano sound that opens the EP, the final song ‘Lost Inside Of Me’ slowly reveals itself to be something of a masterpiece. Drifting on an easy chorus, it uses the phrase ‘Inside me’ as a soft hook. Then, it folds in on itself, internalising that message, resulting in a massive guitar-based nervous breakdown. It’s a superb expression of idea and a great song.

This is Dead Pony with all the dials set to eleven. Their new EP sees them evolving into one of the most exciting rock bands on the scene. It’s the sound of them accelerating away from their peers. ‘Eat My Dust!’ indeed.

IAN KENWORTHY

]]> https://www.punktastic.com/album-reviews/knife-bride-sorry-about-the-plague/ Wed, 22 Apr 2026 11:00:34 +0000 https://www.punktastic.com/?post_type=album-reviews&p=240298 When the black death struck Europe in the mid-1300’s it was devastating. Maybe there was something in the air. Maybe it was punishment from an angry God. People died. They weren’t ready. They tried to protect themselves with sweet-smelling herbs, they held up charms, and they called the priests. They had no idea what they were in for. In many ways this could apply to Knife Bride and their new EP ‘Sorry About The Plague’.

Speaking of things sweeping across Europe, destroying everything in their path, Knife Bride have just returned from a tour on the continent supporting Svalbard. This isn’t as simple as it sounds, they occupy a slightly strange position. They have an established social media presence, a scattering of singles, strong word-of-mouth, but not all that much music.

Until now the band has had no clear identity. There was no story. These five songs remedy that. Imagine where Architects were headed on ‘For Those Who Wish To Exist’ and continue along that path. That’s the sound, similar to newcomers Gore. It’s a holistic blend of ideas, a hybrid; indebted to metal rather than contaminated by it, setting them apart from many of their peers.

Fittingly for an EP framed around the bubonic plague the songs are frequently blistering. The guitars on ‘Alone At The Altar’ are a cocktail of thick punches and screaming harmonics designed to give you friction burns while the breathless riffing and high tempo of ‘Crucify’ will leave you scorched. The song’s sound fits very neatly with the lyric “I’m in the business of destroying everything,” especially when the slow breakdown hits with the force of a derailed freight train, crumpling the song around it. ‘Porcelain’ shares a similar slow, djent-style breakdown but is built around nasty stabby little riffs which shows off their songwriting skills in a completely different way.

Relatively speaking, the EP’s first half is heavier while the second is more expansive. The luscious opening to ‘Lillies’ evolves into shuffling electric sounds and snakelike hisses, while ‘Poisoned By God’ uses slow, watery keyboard notes to give it an expansive depth, making for a suitably epic closer.

As the kids say, vocalist Mollie Clack is “sick.” She performs with the confidence and style of a pop singer. On the opening track she works really hard to give the chorus a real catchy hook but on every song her style is as assured as it is varied. On ‘Lilies’ she takes on a theatrical edge, leaning on the word “darkness” to give it an unusual form and following the music as it descends into madness. It feels effortless and inspired. Lyrically ‘Alone At The Altar’ has slightly unfortunate subtext, as it is easy to read as being about Covid, or an STD, but it’s a great song either way. It’s a great EP.

Spread the word. Knife Bride’s new EP is like the plague; it’s vicious, life-changing and so infectious your ears might fall off.

IAN KENWORTHY

If you haven’t heard of this band, well, that seems likely. Research reveals very little. They seem to have only a limited social media presence and don’t appear to be the kind of band who make trendy TikTok videos or viral posts. Their Spotify lists just one EP of demos, which is curious in itself. Their only widely available work is a series of sketches. None of this is a mystery but it is surprising, and it means one thing. The music needs to speak for itself.

Tired Of Fighting are a trio made up of Kevin Nolan, George Sharpe, and Nic Wood. Their setup is simple – drums, bass and guitar, with Wood acting as singer/songwriter. Their songs reflect this. They are neither showy nor trendy. They mostly take the form of strummed chords over a solid backbeat, making the songs simple and understated. You can hear the crackle of pop punk somewhere in their songwriting lineage but the actual sound is closer to a singer/songwriter-led band like Travis. In this case, Nic Wood’s songs are what makes the record. He keeps the tone upbeat but downcast, presenting insecurity in a way that is catchy without being obvious. It is quite the skill, and he employs it throughout the album. Every song has a gentle, likeable hook and a workable character.

That said, it’s not a solo endeavour. Kevin Nolan’s drums are varied enough to shape the songs. They’re presented with the kind of weight that makes them feel like an important part of the whole. This is notable on the fast, weighty ‘Branches’ but his playing is thoughtful and the production combines his choices in an effective way. Similarly, George Sharpe’s bass makes good use of space, particularly on ‘Out Of The Forest’ where the simply strummed guitar parts give him more opportunities to play around. Choices like these give the album a little more breadth and an alluring sense of depth.

If Tired Of Fighting have an almost spectral presence and their songs are unshowy, what is it that makes this record worth checking out? The answer is an obvious one; the songs are really good. Not showy good, not life-changingly good, not even thrillingly good, but satisfyingly good. In this regard, they’re like good-quality jam spread thinly across slightly tepid toast. This does, in fact, make the album difficult to talk about. Every time you find yourself layering on hyperbole or reaching for the superlatives, you have to restrain yourself, this isn’t a record like that.

Age is a cruel thing. By the time you have worked out how to do something, you’re probably too old to actually pursue it. If you’re not young, full of energy and inspired then maybe you’ve already missed the boat. The thing about age though is that it brings wisdom, perspective, and in this case, that sense of quality. Imagine a craftsman carefully shaping a piece of wood, softening the edges, working on it until it becomes a sculpture, then listen to ‘Just For Me’ or ‘Castles’. It’s that same idea.

The album’s artwork is a monochrome photograph. It features a man sitting on a bench, facing away and looking down. It’s a striking image that neatly sums up the album’s tone and direction. While it’s not strictly-speaking a concept record, it is built around grief. Throughout, Wood’s lyrics reflect this in a way that is solid and workmanlike. They don’t have the observational wit of Alex Turner, the downbeat geekiness of Justin Courtney Pierre or Rivers Cuomo’s levels of honesty, but they belong in the same bracket. He has style and an approach. His words transmit meaning. They are poetic and sharpened by effort. The standouts are the neat comparisons he makes on ‘Chocolate’ or the gentleness of ‘Death Wish’ but it’s the consistent tone and introspection that makes them winners.

If listening to the album conjures one thing, it’s sadness. It’s not theatrical sadness though, rather the sadness of a quiet venue after the band leaves the stage. The sadness of heading out for a treat and the shop being closed. The sadness of low-quality jam on toast. Low-level, honest, beautiful sadness.

Everyone is so busy gawping at the Turner Prize they forget how hard it is to paint a portrait. ‘And Then Suddenly It Hits You’ is a solidly crafted, quality piece of work. It’s unlikely to be your favourite record; it might not be the best record you’ve heard this week. But if you’re looking for a simple, unobtrusive ode to everyday sadness, ‘And Then Suddenly It Hits You’ comes highly recommended.

IAN KENWORTHY

]]> https://www.punktastic.com/album-reviews/palette-knife-keyframe/ Fri, 10 Apr 2026 13:00:03 +0000 https://www.punktastic.com/?post_type=album-reviews&p=240293 Imagine an artist. A painter. Their work, their art, isn’t just about ideas. It’s about expression, the form, the way they paint the picture. Maybe they choose water colours, they might choose to work with oils or acrylic. They might use a brush to apply paint to a canvas or a different implement entirely. How you work a canvas is as important as what you are working on. This is interesting when a band calls themselves Palette Knife, an implement used to mix and apply paint. They are best described as ‘emo’ but on ‘Keyframe’ they spread and smear that sound, making for a record that is as distinctive as it is striking.

The album is a follow up to 2023’s ‘New Game +’ and you can immediately hear a change. Where that album had a soft, electronic opening this one opens with the distorted roar of a dropped guitar. It’s a sound that neatly illustrates the difference. This is a more straightforward record, the sound is dirtier, more direct but that doesn’t mean it’s simple. For the unfamiliar Palette Knife’s work is a mixed medium, a combination of technical wizardry and an emo vocal style. If you imagine an instrumental band like TTNG or Delta Sleep who make good use of melodic note runs and then add Pup style vocals over the top you won’t be too far away. It’s an interesting combination, presented in an unusual way and the reason is this; they’re careful not to over-stuff the sound. They’re either singing or playing fiddly guitar parts. The most obvious example is ‘Phoenix Down’ which begins with those melodic scales, but takes a full two minutes before the vocals enter. However, despite using this idea throughout the album they’re keen to play with it in interesting ways, making the record quite a tricky beast.

A keyframe is a drawing that defines the start or end of a transition. That’s a great way to think about the record as it feels like a clear division, a beginning or an end of the music they’ve been making for the last seven or so years. You could call it a reimagining or a peak, and the reason is they make strong choices. Indeed, one of the strongest is the very bright, twangy guitar sound that gives the album a light airiness. Even the palm muted sections of songs like ‘Leviathan’ have a single-coil, Telecaster-esque brightness which makes the guitars stand out but also makes them quite harsh, like audio cheesewire. Once you get past this though, and it might take a few listens, the record’s strengths become more apparent. Beneath the jagged jangling, the band are engaged in a tug-of-war. This gives the songs an unusual energy; the winner of course, is the listener.

The album’s standouts include last year’s single ‘Prototype V.2’, which uses a massive drum sound to give it a stompy persistence while the other instruments fight to make their mark, while ‘Ratking Regicide’ feels like the ultimate expression of the band’s sound. Between bouts of chaos and noisy breakdown its makes great use of every noodling lick. It’s a stunning song but that doesn’t take away from the other, more restrained, cuts.

The album is at its most interesting when it makes strong choices. This includes the slower tempo of ‘Limit Break’, which is more of singer-led song or ‘Faultsiphon’ which cleverly folds the vocal around the guitar riffs. Similarly, the delicate singing at the opening of ‘Honors English’ is really effective at changing up the style.

Returning to the idea of an artist, the way to test an impressionist is to get them to paint something you recognise. Thus you can hear the change from the band’s biggest single 2023’s ‘Jelly Boi’ with its straightforward, insular lyrics. It’s not that they have abandoned this approach, more that it has been squeezed in a different direction. You can hear it on songs like ‘Limit Break’ but there’s a sense of growth and maturity or at least, they’re expressing it differently.

On this album the band draws from numerous sources but their main feature is what you could call ‘passive modernity’. This comes from the idea that geeks have inherited the earth, which is an allusion to traditionally geeky pastimes entering the mainstream. Video game references and niche allusions are more widely applicable than they first appear, for example. Combining this with sweeping statements like “Giving up feels way too good” means there is a fair chance the band might be on your wavelength.

The major drawback here is that although the songs are doing different things the guitar parts unintentionally makes them feel a little samey. This is not because they are identical but because they all use same style of lick. To work around this the band structure each song differently , at times making them sound like a less wild Fall Of Troy, but it can be a little wearing and you find yourself anticipating the fiddly guitar parts. This isn’t a bad thing, it’s more a feature of their sound, but it is slightly unforgiving.

Despite this, each song has its own defining feature. ‘Mimic’ has a great opening riff and a real swagger to the way it moves while ‘Leviathan’ plays out over a buzzing, burning amp sound which gives it a strange atmosphere. The upbeat ‘Sleep Paralysis’ leans more into a punky vibe, making it the ideal choice for a single and one for the curious to check out.

Palette Knife’s new record avoids broad strokes. ‘Keyframe’ is a piece of technical emo expressionism.

IAN KENWORTHY