If you haven’t encountered Boss Keloid, their sound is a progressive mixture of rock, metal, stoner, doom, sludge and a lot more in between. It’s wrong to say they sound like Mastodon, but they don’t not sound like them. They exist in a similar creative space. Back in 2018 they caught everyone’s attention with the gruff beauty of ‘Melted On The Inch’. Three years later they earned accolades with the rich song-scapes of ‘Family The Smiling Thrush’. Their most recent album ‘The Calming Influence Of Teeth’ threw something of a curveball, featuring a more raw and riff-based repetitive sound. This new record takes a different direction. Over the course of an hour, the seven songs that constitute ‘Float & Aperture’ explore a richer and more varied sound. It doesn’t contain simple songs, or short songs, and each feels like a mass of contradictions, but it’s easily their most accessible work. There’s even a chorus or two.

On previous records their work often felt more like abstract art similar to Picasso, where a series of incongruent shapes and images represent a feeling. Here the songs seem to work in the opposite direction. The best way to describe the music is as a jam session where everyone’s playing a different song. While that might sound off-putting, what results is Paul Swarbrick and Alex Hurst using their guitars to evoke feelings with effective emotional depth. As their shifting styles switch between bright licks and effect-pedal filters, they create a strange tapestry. That’s where it’s reminiscent of an Escher painting. You can hear one part, or another, but the way they fit together has an uncomfortable logic. It’s an extremely intoxicating sound, almost like a magic trick.

While the guitars often feature effects like wah-wah, the most interesting choice is a pitch-shifted sound. It takes prominence on the wandering parts of ‘Landslide’, where the light notes glisten strangely while the heavier riffs feel blurred in the opposite direction. Nonetheless, you can feel it threaded throughout. It’s a choice that helps shape the record’s character, giving it a loose, indistinct quality, but it never feels intangible. The reason for this is the drums. The rolls, like the ones that open ‘Breeze’, feel massive but the smaller sounds, like the thump and tick and constant tink-tink,  all have a real gravity so they cut across the songs in different ways. On the loose, watery ‘Weight’ it feels like Ste Arands is steering a ship across the ocean, fighting against the musical tides and forcing the sound to shift direction. This gives it an unpredictable energy and it’s a joy to listen to.

One of the album’s most notable elements is the way Alex Hurst’s gruff singing takes prominence. Compared to their previous work it’s more flavoured and is expressed as a kind of country rocker sound. It gives the album a more approachable, carefully crafted vibe which is where you really feel the band’s evolution. In fact ‘Pedestal’ almost sounds like a ‘proper’ song despite the music twisting and squirming beneath his voice. Throughout the album’s runtime, he scatters some really cool vocal motifs like on ‘Aros’ where he sings the word ‘around’ with the weight of an iron girder or on the heavier sections of ‘Accord’ where he gets to use a big, distorted bellow that emphasises the song’s tempestuous emotions.

The album’s overall feel is one of interaction and it has a crisp, clean sonority that sounds as if it was recorded live. There’s certainly a depth and honesty to the sounds, especially in how notes ring out, giving it texture while enhancing its differing flavours. Notably the bass stands out on ‘Aros’ and there is an delightful Eastern style to the refrain that holds ‘Landslide’ together. 

Every song is a trove of interwoven ideas and it is difficult to pick highlights. The most obvious choices are the watery tones of ‘Aros’ which feel particularly inspired or writhing, tickling guitar riffs and clicking muted parts on ‘Breeze’. However the album is rich in sonic experiments, especially on landslide’ where their contrasting guitar styles create an evolving, uncomfortable picture that constantly feels like it’s slipping away.

Although the Escher staircase goes around and around without beginning or end, the real marvel is its construction. Similarly the record’s layout means that although the songs lead into each other, it’s their relative positions that enhance the overall experience. Because the track length tapers inward, becoming longer and then trailing away, it gives the album quite an unusual flow. However, the amazing feat is that it retains focus and cohesion despite the rolling, twisting song style. It’s not as simple as being the band’s ‘best’ album but it is a clearer and more effective expression of their ideas. Whichever way you look at it ‘Float & Aperture’ is a work of art.  

IAN KENWORTHY

Moni Jitchell’s live set-up is stark; A drumkit, twelve strings, two amps, two people, one microphone. That’s basically the sound of ‘Aware’. It’s similar to bands like ’68 or Jamie Lenman’s new record ‘Puke’ or a corrupted version of the White Stripes, where their whole schtick is the interaction between a guitarist and a drummer. Recorded and mixed by Ross McGowan at Glasgow’s Chime Studios and mastered by Matthew Barnhart it captures a raw, textured sound but it might take some getting used to.

Each of the album’s nine songs is built around David Scott’s guitar playing while Grant Donaldson batters his drumkit and yells over the top. It’s an abrasive sound and never feels particularly tuneful but it has a strange, hypnotic quality, and is an interesting contrast to the sound of 2023’s ‘Unreal’. Although the song construction feels similar, the sound is darker, thicker and slightly more evil. It captures a different kind of atmosphere.

Opening track ‘Ask’ smashes through its short runtime, getting things underway with a short, sharp shock. The guitar part saws back and forth but the drums do the hard work as it breathlessly captures your attention. The second track ‘New Table’ introduces one of the album’s most interesting features, the guitar drone. While the tap-tapping drums keep the song flowing, the riffs fall into a kind of holding pattern that makes it feel strangely uneasy. This idea is repeated in interesting ways throughout the album as the guitar riffs often seesaw back and forward giving songs like ‘All To See’ or ‘Hear’ a certain rolling wave/seasickness feel. It’s one of the defining features of the overall sound and proves to be strangely hypnotic.

When discussing their music, the duo make a big deal of David Scott using a twelve-string guitar. Why? Because it seems a strange choice for this type of music. Usually, duos favour the heavier, thicker sound of bassy strings which allow the riffs to battle with the drummer. Here though those extra strings offer more layers and sense of depth. Indeed, the riff on ‘No Offering’ sounds more like a ‘normal’ band and it’s absolutely crushing, telling you a lot about how their music works.

For a band predicated on the sound of two people, that’s not all there is. Although they work within a two person framework on some songs, they add extra instruments and explore different soundscapes. Notably the intoxicating title track ‘Ache’ features a more technical-sounding riff and feels more ‘musical’ than the others. Similarly, the bassy sound of ‘Fault’ gives it a thrilling undercurrent to its spidery riff; the effect is something like a traffic jam, which is much bigger compliment than you might think.

Of course, arriving in 2026, the new album enters a world still bleating on about A.I. music. It’s a strange place. Almost no one has a clue what they are talking about, everyone is at cross purposes and the whole idea that A.I. is making anything is ludicrous. Computer models are not alive. They don’t know anything, they don’t create anything, they just lay down what comes next, statistically. And they get those statistics by ripping of every artist who ever wrote a song. Moni Jitchell are the opposite of A.I. music. They’re the anti-A.I.

One of the album’s defining features is Donaldson’s voice. He’s a shouter, similar to Jeremy Bolm from Touche Amore where the presentation of his voice bares no real relation to what the music is doing. It’s a constant ‘R-ROOAR, R-ROAR’ sound that is more about cadence and expression than style. On the most interesting tracks like ‘Aware’, he tones down the yelling making it less caustic and almost warm. This creates much needed variety and adds a layer of texture to the album as a whole. It’s also striking how the he uses a drawn-out yell to bring ‘Limp Eyes’ and the journey to a close.

No one wants to listen to A.I. music. No one. Relatively ‘normal’ people will use that accursed word ‘filler’ to mean a song that isn’t a big, catchy single. But even that kind of song has an inspiration, hours of work, and choices. Moni Jitchell’s work feels real and dirty and messy. Their second album is darker, more hypnotic and more creative than their debut. If a semi-sentient computer put out ‘Aware’, you’d think it was broken.

IAN KENWORTHY

In the history of band names rarely has one been so perfect as Venus Grrrls. Literally the goddess of love intertwined with the attitude of the riot grrrl movement. That’s their sound, right there. They describe it as ‘Goth Grunge’ which means they power the atmosphere of dark wave and post-punk with the beating heart of a rock band. It’s a lovers’ tryst between Siouxsie And The Banshees and Guns N’ Roses and it’s absolutely intoxicating.

Thus far Venus Grrrls’ career has been like a ball at Thrushcross Grange; lively music, a great opportunity and handful of singles. The new EP is their first big push, basically showing off exactly what they’re capable of. For this reason, it opens with the single ‘Eve’. Powered by an absolutely crushing drum beat from Alannagh Doherty and a throbbing bassline from Hannah Barraclough it whirrs like a terrifying industrial machine. As Eliza Lee’s guitar saws down the centre you can feel yourself being churned up in its emotive gears. It’s a thrilling start. With the standard set so high the subsequent songs are free to explore more varied soundscapes.

Each song has its own distinct identity. So although songs like ‘Carmilla’ and ‘Wormfood’ are powered by delicious riffs they writhe and contort into different shapes. With its shimmering verses and gated drum sound ‘Mother Knows’ is evocative of dreams and memories. Brad Mair’s production captures a rich and layered sound, but it’s all about spaces and the broad canvas vocal narratives can be painted upon. As the songs ebb and flow it’s hard not to get swept into its swirling romance. The special ingredient though is the dirt, the grubby guitar tone that buries under your skin. The glistening keyboard stabs on ‘Carmilla’ give it a delightful, new romantic tone but the outro peels away into a wicked, Slash-style guitar solo giving it a dangerous, salacious quality.

GK, the band’s vocalist, has a haunting, sharp voice, like a fractured mirror. Between the powerful choruses of ‘Eve’ or ‘Evergreen’ she leans on “ah” sounds and softly hummed notes to ensnare you in her melodies but always catches you out with her reflections. There is a vampiric undercurrent to ‘Carmilla’ implying sexual tension but it’s more explicit as ‘Mother Knows’ explores the eroticism of a graveyard rendezvous, making it startlingly intense. That said, the whispered, sensual parts and soft moans on ‘Wormfood’ are even more alluring.

Beauty isn’t just in the eye of the beholder, it’s beneath gorgeous soundscapes, inside dirty guitar riffs and is filtered through dark romanticism. ‘To Die As Lovers May’ is an intensely bewitching EP.

IAN KENWORTHY

Last year’s debut album, ‘To Live In A Different Way’, sounded like My Bloody Valentine via Loathe. It combined a restrained heaviness with shoegaze, like a dream. You weren’t sure where one wall ended and another began. It led you along a corridor, the boundaries were blurred and they faded into each other, and yet there is a destination, a pathway. By contrast, this just sounds like Loathe. It’s not a bad thing. However, it means they have traded one sound for another and you might not be impressed.

Open the wrapper and inside the EP are three songs and a short interlude. They share a sound that is too rich to describe as ‘modern metal’ but fits within that bracket. The songs ‘Smile’ and ‘The Rain that Follows Me’ feature thick, heavy guitars that thump along, propelling them forwards. They’re decorated with pick-slides, making them feel naughty like the heaviest Architects tracks on ‘Holy Hell‘. However, both feature layered, harmonious vocals that at least attempt to create the strange, dreamlike quality that made their debut so alluring. Each layer interacts with the other so that Alex Ioannou’s voice is both dominant and filling the spaces in an intoxicating blend. He also finds interesting ways to keep his lyrics in step with the music by over-emphasising each syllable. So, for example, he sings the word ‘me’ as ‘may-ay-ay’ giving it a distinctive sound. Both songs are strongly crafted pieces that make the EP worth checking out.

All three band members, Cameron Humphrey, Sam Clark and Ioannou, concocted and produced the EP together, giving it a clear sense of direction and purpose. It’s also a way to show off this new sound. They refer to it as a “concept EP,” exploring the complex way they hide darkness. Ironically this is the same theme as their debut album, just presented in a more straightforward way.

The accurately titled ‘Fury’ is an entirely different beast. Featuring massive, thudding, bassy guitars, it sounds angry and dirty. Ioannou’s crusty yells get swept away amongst the sonic battering, meaning it has no interest in the smudged beauty of dreams, unless they border on the nightmarish.

Love Is Noise are exploring a new pathway. ‘The Space Between Happiness And Heartache’ sounds too sure of itself to be a creative experiment. Like Harry, you can be disappointed what the EP isn’t, or embrace what it is; a rich, layered exhibition.

IAN KENWORTHY

Culture goes around in circles. Anywhere you look you can see repeating patterns. In politics, fashion, art. Nothing stays the same but the important thing is that each time a circle repeats, the context changes. Nothing is exactly the same. Everything is a reaction to a reaction to a reaction. That’s where Prodigal come in. After years of metal bands constructing and polishing their music, they’re doing something different. They’re getting in a room together and capturing the magic. Obviously, it’s not just that, but it is key to understanding what ‘The Floating World’ is, and why it works.

The EP has one distinctive feature; it was recorded live. The guitar strings squeak and squeal, the drums thud and thump, you can feel the cymbals ringing out and the distinctive thwack of the snare. It’s a sound that might leave you digging through your 30-year-old music collection trying to find the indie label nu-metal bands it reminds you of, and it’s not a bad thing. It’s the same impulse behind the garage rock revival. Something old swaggering in dressed as something new. In that vein, the best way to describe their sound is if early Deftones were fronted by Korn’s Jonathan Davies.

While their influences aren’t subtle, there’s something different here; the combination of sounds feels exciting, and it’s due to the shifting guitars. As they shift gear between low bassy riffs and high stabs, it results in a thrilling mix of drive and panic. On ‘Drowned’, that switch is so extreme the notes seem to be bent by a whammy pedal creating a massive sound. When combined with droning, druggy, moaning on ‘The Door’ or indeed the rapid-fire verses on ‘Drowned’, these guitar tricks create a sense of purpose. It’s a trick that also holds together the delightfully messy ‘Pulling Apart’.

When you make a recording, it’s difficult to separate the song from its presentation, like blowing on the edges of a paper napkin. Here, the combination of nu-metal style riffs, yelled vocals and swirling effect pedals are blended in a way that renders the vocals sounding like cries for help in a sea of filth.

At the EP’s midpoint ‘Opium-12’ provides the highlight. It’s built around a massive repeating riff that stops and starts with such a huge punch it’ll smash a grin onto your face. On ‘Undue’ the lead and strummed guitars offer a greater sense of breadth. But as it descends into an abyss of heavy, sludgy detuned riffs and squeals, it leaves a mess of sweaty catharsis.

Having used up all his glittering riches, the prodigal son returned poor, and was embraced. Prodigal have shed all the trappings of modern production. They arrive wanting to be loved. ‘The Floating World’ makes that very easy.

IAN KENWORTHY

Let’s take a step back. Once upon a time there was an alt-metal band called Butcher Babies. They built their name with an intense live show. It was all about attitude, an absolutely terrifying assault based on Heidi Shepherd and Carla Harvey screaming at each other over grinding guitar riffs. Years passed, their music evolved and then in 2024 Harvey left. Everything had to change.

Having Shepherd as the sole vocalist redefines the band, and ‘NIGHTBLOOM’ is a different kind of record. The established “Butcher Baby” attitude is channeled into more traditional song structures, featuring less screaming, more clean singing and fewer chugging guitars. It’s the direction 2023’s ‘Eye For An Eye…’ pointed towards but this pushes those features further, and there is an obvious reason for this; the record was produced by Howard Benson. The difference this makes is so stark you’d be shocked if he didn’t have a songwriting credit on every track. Basically, he lends the record the high level of craft and construction that the band have often struggled to maintain. Every song feels like a quality piece of work. Each feels distinctive. Each is simply great.

Wisely, the album opens with ‘Lost In Your Touch’, the most Butcher Babies song here. It’s basically built around a thick guitar riff and aggressive screaming but it is also built around a big, clean chorus, designed to establish what their sound means now. Between this and the similarly styled closing track ‘Black Dove’, the band explore different aspects of their new sound, pushing themselves in different ways but retaining the same sense of propulsive energy.

The music is modern metal, comparable to recent Architects records. This is heard most clearly on ‘Broken & Beautiful’ where the verses are electronic pulses but guitar riffs underscore the choruses. Each song is a variation on this idea and some are heavier than others. At one end of the scale ‘Fever In My Neck’ is filled with vicious metal riffs while ‘Black Clouds Over Georgia’ borders on soft rock. Stripping out the repetitive thrash-style grind that defined 2015’s ‘Take It Like A Man’ makes the sound much more accessible and results in a tonality that might be less distinctive but is far more consistent.

This isn’t the first time the band has worked with outside songwriters (you can easily tell which songs on 2017’s ‘Lilith’ were written by Atreyu’s Brandon Saller) but here the whole album feels like a collaboration. Again, this isn’t a bad thing; it’s all about quality. Each song is carefully constructed and the spaces are filled in different ways to add flavour. There are thoughtful keyboard melodies on ‘Leaving California’, ripping guitar licks on ‘Black Clouds Over Georgia’ and whirling synths on ‘Are You Waiting Up?’ But none of them feel cluttered in a way that detracts from the song’s emotional arc. The overall effect is a record with subtle character despite being made up of straightforward songs that all feel like singles.

Without a secondary vocalist, and with a much heavier emphasis on singing, the band’s whole dynamic has changed. Luckily, Shepherd is a great singer. Her style leans on phrases in unusual or varied ways which is strong enough to match her biting screams. For comparison, it’s a similar style to In This Moment’s Maria Brink. In fact, the record’s biggest strength is Shepherd’s strong approach to melodies. They’re delightfully weird on ‘Sincerity’ where she sings the title in a counterintuitive way yet packs hooks around it so the song doesn’t lose its momentum. Or on a ‘Fever In My Neck’ where she over-pronounces the words and leans on each syllable making it feel thrillingly nasty. For someone so skilled at death growls she also makes great use of higher registers. The best example is the single ‘Blame It On The Wind’ where the massive chorus switches between a forceful statement and a high denouement. It’s catchy, straightforward and genuinely great. Indeed, every song could be described like this, making for a record that feels easy when obviously it’s not. It’s the kind of record that’s ideal for a gym session; consistent and energetic.

Shepherd has an intriguing approach to lyrics. Change is on her mind. The choices she makes here contrast and intertwine with her previous work in unusual ways. Although there are the references to destruction and ‘gasoline’ found on previous records, here the theme of change is explored using different bird metaphors. You can hear this most directly on ‘Black Dove’ and ‘Songbird’ but the idea of growth and leaving permeates the album. In effect, it’s about regret. Although sorrow defines ‘Black Clouds Over Georgia’ and ‘Lost In Your Touch’, it contrasts with the ideas of change found on the more aggressive songs to create a sense of depth. However, it is the penultimate track ‘Leaving California’ that proves to be the highlight. The chorus has a mournful edge and the sadness in the way Shepherd sings ‘Shudda known better’ provides a strong emotional hook. Positioned towards the end, it feels like the record is building toward it, creating a gentle arc.

With a new lineup, change was inevitable. The dynamic is completely different but the trade-off proves worthwhile. Butcher Babies have shed their feathers, grown into something graceful and become a fully-fledged member of the flock. By surrendering some of their uniqueness they’ve made their strongest and most consistent record.

IAN KENWORTHY

Arriving at the end of summer, the EP captures the sense of fading sunlight and days closing in. In keeping with their 2018 ‘Borrowed Time’ EP and their biggest song ‘End Of An Era’, these four tracks are about looking back. While the lyrics explore seasons, endings and literally seeing things in ‘The rearview’ what gives them this feel is the tone.

Close your eyes and listen to the music. There’s something familiar about the sound, perhaps a little too familiar. It’s not just the comfort of memory, it’s also the curse of genre. Ultimately though, it’s about choices. Imagine making that paper plane. Each carefully chosen line and fold makes changes its trajectory of flight. The band knows this, they know how to make their songs fly, yet everything, from the melodies, to the drum beats, to the guitar licks driving ‘Stuck In This Moment’ is recognisably pop-punk. This leads to a sound consistent with bands like The Story So Far, State Champs, Roam and so many others. You can even hear it in the genre-specific production choices like the slow, echoy drum fades on ‘Long Gone’, which you’ll recognise as those on the opening of Blink 182’s ‘Feeling This’ – those kinds of choices. It sounds ‘good’ rather than inspired.

Singer, Tripp Rowe has a distinctive style but, amusingly, it’s distinctive in the same way as many other pop punk singers, for example the ‘Oo’ sounds pronounced as ‘ew’ or how ‘gun’ becomes ‘gone’ on ‘Victim Of The Suburbs’. This gives it the comfort of familiarity. Indeed, it’s amusing that ‘Blink Of An Eye’ contains the refrain ‘I’ve got new ideas’ when the presentation harks backward. However, the EP is about the past and nostalgia, and with that, it fits.

Despite looking backwards, what they’re selling is confidence and competence, and the EP bristles with both. The music is energetic, without being too rowdy, and brushed with the honesty of emo. It’s hard not to get caught up in the delightful swing and sway of ‘Stuck In This Moment’ or stop/start singing parts of  ‘Blink Of An Eye’ but the final song ‘Long Gone’ is striking. It becomes a gallop during its second half, changing the tone entirely. It’s like they’re actively moving on, and that’s a great place to leave it.

‘Closer Than It Seems’ is carefully crafted but weighted by the past. It’s a solid, enjoyable slice of pop-punk that captures the sound of a fading summer.

IAN KENWORTHY

]]> https://www.punktastic.com/album-reviews/scene-queen-metalicious/ Wed, 09 Sep 2026 11:00:13 +0000 https://www.punktastic.com/?post_type=album-reviews&p=242146 Pink is the colour. Barbie pink, bubble-gum pink, it has so many connotations. Scene Queen, Hannah Collins to her friends, embraces them all. With her new EP ‘Metalicious’ she’s embracing something else too, metal. Over six tracks she’s exploring the heavier side of her sound; Bimbocore never sounded so brutal.

If you haven’t stumbled across Scene Queen her music mixes elements of trap, rock, breakdowns and hardcore, all combined with a glorious wit; what she describes as ‘Bimbocore’. This time, there’s more. You see, inside everyone are two people – or at least, there are inside Hannah Collins – a bubbly motormouth and a darker side. That duality is what she’s exploring here, and it sounds like a type of mania.

The contrast is obvious. On songs like ‘Shopaholic’ or ‘Tracksuit’ her delivery switches between singing and death growls, but that’s not all. The EP is far stranger than that. It takes the pop-adjacent effervescence found on her 2024 album ‘Hot Singles In Your Area’ and wraps it around darker, filthier guitar riffs and punishing breakdowns. While parts of ‘Drop Dead Gorgeous’ sound like Linkin Park filtered through a pair of curling tongs, the title track features full-on deathcore (courtesy of Left To Suffer) that stings like hot wax on a very sensitive area. Flipping between these sounds and trap beats, like on ‘Manicure’, gives the songs a sweet & sour flavour that is surprisingly alluring.

Vocally, she favours an interesting trick, repetition. This works remarkably well, especially with the detached way she sings “Ring Ring Ring Ring” as a melody line on ‘Pink Flip Phone’. On ‘Drop Dead Gorgeous’ the refrain is clearly a riff on ‘Rest In Peace’ and would be irritating if she didn’t give it momentum by changing the presentation each time. In contrast the repeating phrase “Hittin’ the mosh” on ‘Meltalicious’ is used to create a sense of stasis so that when the huge stampede of deathcore hits it induces a crushing sense of tonal whiplash.

Despite having her tongue firmly wedged in her cheek the lyrics are honest and sexually liberal. There are two ways of looking at the title; Metal-icious or Meta-licious. Both work. Either it’s about Collins wrapping her tongue around the delicious sounds of metal, or about being delightfully metatextual about herself, music and the scene in general. There’s also a third reading by way of the EP’s cover art, which has Collins pictured wearing what look to be a pink pair of Meta’s AI glasses, sometimes dubbed “Pervert Glasses” for their insidious connotations. While it may be a stretch to assume she’s definitely sporting a pair, she is well known for delightfully barbed takedowns of toxic culture – check out her 2024 single ‘18+’ for an indication of how pointed her work can be – and the tone here is no different. It’s almost chaste compared to the in-your-face approach of ‘Hot Singles In Your Area’, but it does feature a song called ‘T!ts Out At Brunch’, which injects a dose of smutty humour.

‘Metalicious’ is a fascinating sonic experiment that swings wildly between irreverent and intense. It’s a gloriously unsubtle EP, like a big, pink patchwork quilt.

IAN KENWORTHY

Maybe this sounds familiar, maybe you’re from Manchester like Midnight Swim. Even if you’re not, you should probably check out their self-titled debut. They’re a rock band and, after collecting their scattered singles onto 2023’s ‘Into The Night’ EP, they’re ready to break the surface.

Shock derives from the unexpected, a sharp jolt to the senses. You’re less likely to experience it if you submerge yourself slowly. So if you’re familiar with bands like Anberlin, Kids In Glass Houses or You Me At Six – rock bands with something heavy in their DNA – you’ll easily slip into the sound. They’re keen to describe it as ‘alt-pop’ but there’s something else beneath the surface, a love for swaying rhythms that invites you to dance.

Bodies of water, with their shimmering surfaces, are renowned for what they hide. Once you immerse yourself in the record, you’ll find it behaves in the same way. This is partly because of the band’s roots in a variety of local bands, meaning you can hear all kinds of interesting influences coming together to create the whole.

Over the summer, the moors above Manchester have been on fire. Occasional tongues of flame, heat, smoke, moments of intensity, but the defining characteristic is how it creeps up on you, spreading until the whole area is engulfed in flames. That’s also how the record works. It has a slow-burning quality that takes a little time to get going, and it’s all to do with the sound. Danny Heaton and Matt Lunn’s interwoven guitar parts have a rough, crinkly sound that helps shape the music. Although they use riffs to drive ‘Tease’ and ‘Don’t Want To Talk About It’, there is an undercurrent that powers songs like ‘Play It Cool’ which operates more like a corkscrew, drawing you along with its momentum. At its best, ‘Push Back’ is built around a huge, funky bassline from Matty Ashton, and the solo part on ‘I Don’t Wanna Talk About It’ proves that he can skillfully control their swagger.

Some of the songs also feel more alt-rock than others. On ‘Sinners’ this is a trick of the bright guitar tone, while on ‘Do You Want To Get Away’ they use wide, strummed chords like a reflecting pool. Other elements are blended into the sound, giving it unexpected flavours and character, especially more ballad-like ‘Bend & Break’ or the way the softened guitar effects on ‘In The Rain, By The Car’ actually sound like rainfall. Indeed, you’d be hard pushed to find a song title that captures the experience of visiting Manchester’s reservoirs so accurately.

Sitting by the reservoir, perhaps on a picnic rug, at the foot of the moorland you might hear the song of a ring ouzel, the cackle of ducks or the fascinating call of a heron. Each bird has its own distinctive sound and likewise Jack Valentine has a genuinely interesting voice. His singing style favours a slightly unnatural, forced sound as though deepened by back of his throat, making him sound chunky and powerful but tense. This gives him opportunity to do the opposite which leads to fascinating sections where he relaxes and sighs out syllables, creating a wash of emotion. It’s a delightful trick.

Reservoirs can appear to be natural bodies of water but are manmade, constructed from a series of choices but contained within a solid wall. Valentine’s songwriting does something similar, so while he uses repetition to create choruses, adds simple refrains or cries of ‘Hey!’ it is all braced inside the driving guitar parts. This is notable on the rock-solid ‘Tease’ which makes for a kind of effective brainworm. ‘Play It Cool’ even experiments with a vocal tick that is both surprisingly tasteful and extremely brief. However, he’s also a storyteller and on songs like ‘Fade’ or the softer parts of ‘Bend & Break’ he creates a narrative and sense of character with the restrained framework. It’s an effective piece of work.

As a debut album, it establishes the band’s sound, contains catchy singles, offers varied style and paints with broad scope. Each song has different energy and swagger making it feel pleasingly varied. In fact, it ticks all the boxes, and Valentine says it best on the album’s strongest cut ‘In The Rain, By The Car’ when he ‘Can’t stop thinking about it’.

A sense of motion runs through the album and although the record’s second half features slower songs like ‘This Is The Last Song I’ll Write About You’, there’s enough power balladry about it to save it from being lacklustre. It’s also where you find ‘Like You Love To’ which gives the band chance to play something a little more expansive.

Valentine repeatedly sets the song’s subjects against time. Phrases like ‘soon’ and ‘when’ create a sense of vague motion and hint at the slow drive of change, of indecision. It’s an interesting tension, particularly when combined with the mid-tempo music. This is also evident during the shouted verses of ‘Don’t Wanna Talk About It‘ as though he isn’t quite sure of his own aggression.

It has been a curious summer, aside from the perils of cold water and moorland fires, Manchester’s mayor left to lead the country, drawing attention to the city. What better time for the band to release their debut.

‘Midnight swim’ is a slow-burning rock record with hidden depths.

IAN KENWORTHY

Buzz surrounds Showing Teeth, despite having released just two singles they opened for Bring Me The Horizon on their ‘Count Your Blessings’ Anniversary shows. ‘A Fate Worse Than Loneliness’ has to justify that excitement. Let’s be clear, it does. In effect the seven tracks are a showreel saying this is what we can do.

It’s not hard to see why everyone is so excited; vocalist Addison is a TikTok sensation. There’s some debate if her name is an alias but her 2023 videos of her singing in the car went viral. The reason, her voice is stunning. Not only can she sing but her screams vary in style and intensity. This incredible style places her in the pantheon of metal vocalists alongside Poppy and Courtney LaPlante. That good.

On this EP she collaborated with multi-instrumentalist Zach Munowitz, Periphery drummer Matt Halpern and producer Dan Book. The resulting music is both thrilling and absolutely crushing. Each song has its own feel and style but the combination of sounds is impressive as it is intense.

The opener ‘Bad Exchanges’ is the kind of metal Knocked Loose make, layering breakdown-upon-breakdown-upon-breakdown. It’s a muscular song that uses buzzsaw, wasplike guitar parts to create a sound so violent and aggressive that the actual breakdown feels like a reprieve. Never mind it leaving you grinning, you might need novocaine.

While the two previously released songs offer a twist on the same style, each has their own distinct features. The thudding guitar tone and pig squeals on ‘Rip’ feel dangerous while ‘Labyrinth’ uses a djent guitar style and high, slightly processed singing to give it a modern metal edge. Both feel urgent, grubby and remarkably on-pulse.

Excitingly, they explore other styles. With its groove riffs, electronic verses and big chorus ‘Make It Out’ is a great slice of modern alt-metal. However, the highlight proves to be the blistering ‘Shallow Grave’ which blends these ideas into a crushing song about self-reflection. Indeed, the EP’s title and lyrical tone reference the so-called ‘loneliness epidemic’, capturing the cultural moment with its the meme-adjacent EP cover featuring a yawning kitten with sharp teeth. It’s a brilliant image, capturing a wry sense of humour and conveying the band’s modern sensibilities.

The closing track ‘Paradigm’ offers something different. Piano-based, in a style reminiscent of Flyleaf, it drifts on a melody until its clicking, shifting drum loop, contorts it into a huge arena-filling ballad, proving their scope matches their ambitions.

The hype is justified. ‘A Fate Worse Than Loneliness’ isn’t just Showing Teeth, it’s baring fangs. It’s audio dentistry: Skilful, painless, and will leave you grinning from ear to ear.

IAN KENWORTHY