Green Banana

  Jodie Langford opens 2025 with I See Only Red , a track that doesn’t knock—it kicks down the door. It arrives furious and wide-eyed, like something summoned from the fevered edge of sleep, where fear becomes form and shadow becomes story. Langford, Hull’s high-voltage spoken word firestarter, remains unmatched in her alchemy: punk attitude, rave momentum, and razor-edged lyricism, all swirled into a Molotov cocktail of brilliance that explodes on impact. With longtime collaborator Endoflevelbaddie fanning the flames from behind the desk, I See Only Red doesn’t so much build as it erupts—dragging the listener into the stifling stillness of sleep paralysis. It’s a soundscape steeped in menace: throbbing basslines pulse like an unquiet heart, synths flicker like faulty lights in a haunted room, and Langford’s voice slices through the gloom with knowing venom. Her delivery is fierce and sardonic, but never without that familiar glint of mischief, like she’s narrating the horror fro...

TwoLips kicks down the door of sonic convention with her latest single,  CHAOS —a blistering, grinning middle finger to all things buttoned-up and overly curated. If you’ve ever wanted to dance your way through an existential crisis with punky pigtails and a trap beat rattling your ribcage, congratulations: your anthem has arrived. The track is a controlled detonation of electronic swagger and snarling attitude, fronted by ‘TwoLips’ who sings like someone who just discovered fire and is daring you to touch it. Her lyrics call out the absurdity of modern life with a wink, a sneer, and maybe a glitter bomb. It’s part protest, part party, and all unfiltered chaos. “Fall off your pedestal,” she invites, “it’s way more fun down here.” And truly, the bass agrees. The trap-influenced beat snarls with punk energy, polished just enough to sound like it’s wearing combat boots to a gallery opening. The result is a genre stew thick with attitude, rebellion, and just the right amount of fever....

  Breaking Sputnik ’s debut single  Scars  announces itself not with a whisper but a growl from the void. Written by Alex T in a van overlooking the wintry Atlantic during a long, isolated February on Ireland’s west coast, this is music forged in the margins — off-grid, off-script, and defiantly off-center. The track’s dark, moody bassline creeps like fog, while Alex’s raw, storytelling vocals thread through the chaos like barbed wire: brutal, intimate, and oddly comforting. Built on a backbone of relentless percussion and blistering guitar noise,  Scars  is a searing distillation of exile and resistance. There’s punk’s disobedience, the bleak hum of early industrial, and the synthetic heartbeat of sleepless cities — yet none of it feels borrowed. It’s less homage, more weapon. Alex doesn’t sanitize the pain; he amplifies it. But instead of wallowing, he roars forward, dragging bruises behind him like trophies. “Each scar is a story,” he declares — not as lament...

  Resistance , the latest single from UK band Bureau de Change , doesn’t ask politely—it storms in, unapologetic and pounding, heart racing with intent. It’s hard-hitting and resolute, a track that snarls with purpose yet moves with clarity, like a protest march that won’t be silenced. Behind its distortion and grit lies something deeper: a call to reclaim joy as an act of defiance. Drawing a wry mirror to IDLES’  Joy as an Act of Resistance , Bureau de Change flips the phrase inward. Here,  Resistance  is not a burden but a celebration—of voice, of conviction, of standing tall when everything conspires to bend you low. The song pulses with the urgency of protest, shaped by a landscape where speaking out comes with penalties, where peace is policed, and where women’s voices are too often lost in the noise of dismissal. It’s in that space—between rage and resilience—that the track finds its footing. It doesn’t just demand change; it exalts the right to demand it. The ...

  After making a brilliantly chaotic splash with Death by Coconut, Captain Frederickson return with Dyson Airblade Domestic , a noise rock oddity that proves they’re not done making us laugh, scream, and question our household appliances. Clocking in at just over two and a half minutes of grime-coated guitar riffs and basement-born feedback, this new single is as much a sonic tantrum as it is a tongue-in-cheek ode to the most overqualified bathroom accessory imaginable. Blending gritty textures with deadpan narration, Dyson Airblade Domestic doubles as a scuzzy guide to upgrading your home hygiene game—if you’ve ever dreamed of turning your ensuite into a motorway service station, this is your anthem. But beneath the electric squall lies genuinely clever storytelling: the domestic absurdity is painted with both affection and ridicule, as if Sonic Youth got stuck in a B&Q aisle with a mission to reimagine modern life through distortion pedals and sarcasm. There’s something hila...

  Pushwagnergruppen  are here, and they’ve brought more chaos than a malfunctioning espresso machine in a clown factory. Their new single “ Oberdada ” is the kind of track that kicks down the door to your brain, shouts something incomprehensible in a fabulous outfit, and then leaves you humming the chorus while questioning your grip on reality. Billed as the world’s only Dada punk band (because of  course they are), this Norwegian trio isn’t here to play nice. They’re here to disorient, delight, and possibly derail your afternoon. “Oberdada” is a jerky, distorted, absolutely infectious punk art tantrum. It’s got all the charm of a toddler with a megaphone and a PhD in surrealism. And yes—it’s somehow lick-able. Don’t ask. Just feel. Front-dadaist  SURREALISMUS  (Geir Magne Staurland) delivers vocals like a man possessed by a German dictionary and a seagull.  DA GAMA  (Tor-Arne Vikingstad) slaps the bass like it owes him money in a dream logic economy, ...

  Percy Higgins ’ “ Creature Feature ” sounds like what happens when you try to walk in a straight line through a collapsing funhouse—groovy, chaotic, and slightly terrifying. A wild cocktail of art rock, psych, and alternative hip-hop, the track doesn’t so much play as it lurches, thrashes, and occasionally stares into the abyss before shaking itself off and getting back to the beat. Crafted entirely in an East London flat (because who can afford a studio in this economy?), Higgins’ DIY production crackles with a manic energy, bouncing between head-nodding grooves and sudden, disorienting detours. Just when you think you’ve got the rhythm down, the floor drops out from under you—but in a fun way. Lyrically, “Creature Feature” is a scathing, side-eyed lament for a generation that’s never known adulthood without a crisis looming over their bank account, sanity, or WiFi connection. The words cut through the music like someone half-laughing, half-screaming at the absurdity of it all. ...

  Lazy Queen ’s new single  Unemployed, Uninspired   is a glorious middle finger dressed as a punk song—and it flips the bird with style. Dropped on April 4th via Icons Creating Evil Art (yes, that’s really the label name, and yes, it fits perfectly), the track is part of their upcoming mixtape  Lost, Never To Be Seen Again vol. 1 , which sounds like a cryptic message from a punk band lost in IKEA, but is actually a resurrection of unreleased early material. The song itself? It’s like getting drop-kicked in the chest by your own bad decisions—but in a good way. From the first second, it’s full throttle: guitars snarling like rabid dogs, drums punching you in the throat, and Henrik García Søberg (they/them) howling like someone who just got ghosted  and  stubbed their toe.  According to Henrik, it’s “the musical equivalent of screaming ‘fuck-off-and-let-me-self-destruct-in-peace’ into one’s pillow.” Frankly, if you’re not doing that at least once a week...

  They say there is nothing new under the sun, but Naked Planet ’s latest release,   Plant , demonstrably disproves this age-old adage. With a bold fusion of nature and electronic music, this track turns the humblest of natural elements into something entirely innovative.  Every sound within  Plant —whether it’s the beat of the drums, the swell of chords, or the swirling melodies—emerges not from traditional instruments, but from real-life plant recordings. Leaves rustling, stems bending, and the faintest vibrations of plants are painstakingly sampled and transformed into a vibrant tapestry of sonic texture. This isn’t just music; it’s a living, breathing soundscape that feels both deeply organic and mysteriously otherworldly. The delicate nuances of nature’s pulse blend seamlessly with the electrifying energy of dance music, creating an experience that is at once grounding and transcendent. Each note feels like a step deeper into a forest where the rhythm of the ear...

  Akkiles82 ’s latest single,  High Tech, Low Life , pulses with the electric energy of a cyberpunk vision, capturing the soul of a future Yokohama where technology and humanity collide in vibrant chaos. From the first beat, the track pulls you into the heart of this neon-drenched city, where towering skyscrapers cast long shadows over the streets below. The bass reverberates like the very foundation of Neo Yokohama, shaking the concrete and chrome cityscape with its unrelenting force. The soundscape is alive with the hum of laser grids and the ethereal glow of artificial cherry blossoms, their luminescent pollen drifting down onto the dancers in a superclub tucked beneath the looming cityscape. Akkiles82 weaves together metallic rhythms and deep, throbbing synths, evoking the city’s vibrant underground culture—a place where the line between man and machine dissolves. Amidst the flashing lights and pulsating bass, you can almost see the silhouettes of robots, joytoys, and huma...

  Cherry Trees  by Kat Kikta is less a song and more a breath of serenity, a quiet exhale in a world too often holding its breath. It drifts in like the first blush of spring, its delicate layers unfolding with the softness of petals caught on the wind. There is a hushed reverence in its sound—a deep, resonant stillness that feels like stepping into a sacred space where hope lingers in the air. Kikta doesn’t just compose; she conjures. Harps glisten like morning dew, violins trace delicate patterns in the sky, and rhythms move with the steady patience of nature itself. It’s a song of renewal, of resilience, of the silent strength found in things that bloom despite the storms. And at its heart, her voice—gentle yet resolute, as if whispering secrets meant to be carried across time. But  Cherry Trees  is not merely beautiful; it is purposeful. Its melody lulls, but its message stirs. Woven into its dreamlike soundscape is a quiet urgency, a call for peace not shouted ...