Green Banana

  Kasador ’s “ Big Man Keane ” doesn’t politely introduce itself—it kicks the door off its hinges, swigs a beer, and screams about the apocalypse. It’s a gloriously unhinged cocktail of Tom Morello’s guitar pyrotechnics and the spit-flecked punk mania of Amyl & The Sniffers and Idles, served shaken, not stirred, and definitely not safe for the neighbours. The riffs rip like a power tool on caffeine, and the drums sound like they’re trying to overthrow the government. Frontman Cam Wyatt is in full prophet-of-doom mode, hollering about America’s love affair with sensationalist news—the kind where whoever yells the loudest wins, and everyone else loses their soul. He skewers the media circus that rewards big lies, bad takes, and moral rot like it’s prime-time entertainment. Somewhere between the lines, you can hear him asking: “How did we get from empathy to endorsing bombing children?” (Spoiler: it’s the ratings.) But this isn’t just finger-wagging—Wyatt’s having too much fun set...

  Alternative artist  Sarah Durbin  has taken Catholic guilt, plugged it into an amp, and cranked it to eleven with her gloriously unholy new single, “ Sister Mary Catherine .” It’s less a song and more a punk-rock exorcism—complete with eye rolls, power chords, and the faint scent of burning incense. In Durbin’s deliciously twisted universe, Sister Mary Catherine was such a dreadful nun that even Hell couldn’t ignore her résumé. Now she’s running the place—and Satan’s out of a job. “I hope her ghost hears it and hates it,” Durbin declares, which might just be the most punk-rock prayer ever uttered. The track itself is a riotous cocktail of snarling guitars, pounding drums, and choir-like harmonies that sound like a Sunday service gone off the rails. It’s a middle finger to shame, dogma, and every nun who ever confiscated a mixtape. The music video is equally divine and deranged, channeling The Nun for the spook factor, Scream for the camp, and The Craft for that moody, e...

  Detroit’s underground  resident trickster  Alex Wilcox  is here, and he’s not pulling any punches. His new single, cheekily titled “ FUCK THAT ,” is less a polite invitation to dance and more a demand to surrender your frontal lobe to the beat. Consider this a warning: if you’re the type to clutch pearls at expletives, this one isn’t for you. But if you relish abrasive vocal samples and the kind of rhythms that rattle drywall and test your neighbor’s patience, you’re in for a treat. Wilcox thrives on controlled chaos, and “FUCK THAT” is no exception. The track loops profanity like a weapon, weaving it into a web of twitchy techno beats that crawl under your skin and make your body twitch whether you like it or not. There’s a playful absurdity to the repetition—it doesn’t just shock, it teases, becoming both mantra and menace. What makes it shine is the tension between precision and mischief. This isn’t sloppy noise—it’s South...

  “ GDD, ” the latest single from Leeds’ unruly collective Sleuth Gang , is a three-headed beast of a track — loud, sharp, and impossible to pin down. With three vocalists trading verses like blows in a back-alley brawl, the song feels like a manifesto delivered through clenched teeth and grinning defiance. Sleuth Gang’s signature fusion of punk, rap, and hardcore bleeds through every second, a sonic whirlwind powered by twin guitars, a thunderous rhythm section, and sheer adrenaline. Lyrically, “GDD” tackles the seductive danger of false idols — those who twist belief into obedience and profit from devotion. Each verse brings a different lived perspective, creating a dialogue rather than a sermon. One snarls with frustration, another spits with satire, and a third steps back to question the cycle of blind worship. It’s rebellion wrapped in razor wire, but also deeply self-aware — Sleuth Gang know they’re not just pointing fingers; they’re asking listeners to question who they foll...

  Filthy Filthy ’s “ Bad Apple ” isn’t here to sit quietly in the fruit bowl—it’s the song that rolls off the counter, bruises itself on the tile, and still insists on starting a mosh pit in your kitchen. With raunchy, racy guitar riffs and a bassline meatier than a late-night drive-thru burger, this track is built to be loud, sweaty, and joyfully obnoxious. From the first chord, “Bad Apple” screams for chaos. The pop-punk sensibility is undeniable, but instead of whining about suburbia, Filthy Filthy crank out an infectious chorus that practically begs you to lose your voice shouting along. It’s the kind of hook that sneaks into your head uninvited, then refuses to leave—like that one party guest who won’t stop air-drumming on your furniture. This song isn’t about sophistication. It’s about punching the air like you’re suddenly in a stadium, even if you’re just in your bedroom wearing pajamas. It’s about turning up the volume high enough that your neighbors reconsider their life c...

  If Halloween had a doorbell, it would sound exactly like massie99 ’s new single, “ Ding Ding Bitch .” Produced by Taylor Dubray, this track is the musical equivalent of a jump scare followed by a belly laugh. It’s short, sharp, and punky enough to knock your candy corn straight onto the carpet—but charming enough that you’ll shrug and grab another handful. From the first riff, it’s clear this isn’t your average spooky-season playlist filler. Think Drew Barrymore in  Scream  if she’d dropped the phone and picked up a mic, or  The Purge  reimagined with glitter, eyeliner, and Franzia boxed wine. It’s bratty girl punk with a crooked grin, delivering both menace and mischief in under three minutes. And the references? Chef’s kiss. One moment you’re sipping cheap wine, the next you’re stuck listening to your boyfriend butcher Sublime’s “Santeria” at the afterparty—except this time, it’s fun. That messy, chaotic energy is exactly what makes “Ding Ding Bitch” stick. ...

  Strange Pink ’s new single, “ My Friend and You ”, doesn’t so much walk into the room as kick the door off its hinges and demand you buy it a pint.  From the first filthy throb of Eddie Alan Logie’s bass, you know you’re in for something gloriously scruffy. Sam Forrest’s guitar rasps and scratches like it’s been dragged through a hedge backwards, while Dom Smith’s drums push everything forward with the confidence of someone who knows chaos can, in fact, be highly organised. It’s punk at heart, but there’s a woozy, psychedelic shimmer lurking beneath the grit—as if Sonic Youth decided to try meditation, but then got bored and started a bar fight instead. The band’s pedigree is nothing to sniff at: Forrest has already proven his knack for noise with Nine Black Alps and Sewage Farm, while Logie and Smith have sharpened their claws across Yorkshire’s underground. Together, they sound like they’ve been waiting for this exact moment to let loose. And then there’s Smith himself—a d...

  Bureau De Change ’s new single   Office Chair   (out August 8th) is the anthem nobody asked for but every weary office worker desperately needs. If you’ve returned from your summer holidays with a tan, a bad attitude, and a deep hatred of the phrase “touch base,” this one’s for you. The track opens with guitars that sound like a printer jam set to a beat, while the bassline trudges forward like a worker on their fifth coffee of the morning, still somehow half-asleep. Vocals arrive with the same energy you’d muster at a “mandatory fun” Friday, dripping with sarcasm as they call out the absurd rituals of office life: buzzword bingo, passive-aggressive Post-it notes, and the unholy horror of a “cake for Karen’s birthday” email thread. Lyrically, it’s less a protest song and more a group chat message set to music—the kind you’d whisper to your desk neighbour while pretending to look at spreadsheets. It’s a ballad for the ones silently counting down to 5:30, eyeing the clock...

  At Green Banana, it’s no secret we’re card-carrying members of the Jodie Langford fan club—but her new single “ S.T.B.Y .” has us positively frothing. Hull’s beloved spoken-word firebrand has taken inspiration from John Cooper Clarke’s infamous poem “Twat” and spun it into a darkly comic, electro-industrial tirade that’s as witty as it is infectious. Produced by her long-time collaborator Endoflevelbaddie—Hull’s self-anointed King of Electro—the track bristles with futuristic hooks, claustrophobic atmospherics, and beats that stomp like steel-toed boots on a sticky nightclub floor. Over this backdrop, Langford unleashes her razor-tongued delivery, gleefully skewering life’s irritations with a mix of venom and humour. “Sucks to be you,” she sneers, not so much pointing the finger as raising both middle ones in poetic solidarity. The beauty here is in the balance: Langford doesn’t claim to harbour enemies, but instead channels the everyday absurdities that gnaw at us all. From met...

今回は2024年末に惜しまれつつも大阪に引っ越した得体の知れないノイズクイーン黒柳卍子ことウメノさん30年弱の東京バンドマン人生を振り返りたいと思います。 岡山で宅録       16,17歳から自宅で1人で多重録音をしていました。渋谷系、なかでもチープな感じの音楽が好きだったから。楽器は鍵盤とか打楽器とか色々。そんなちゃんとした感じじゃなくて、モゲモゲでカワイイ感じ。4トラックのカセットMTRで。最初はラジカセ2台でピンポン録音してたんだけど、どんどん音が小さくなっちゃうから無理だなと思って、彼氏に誕生日にMTRをもらいました。今聴いたらビックリするよ、なんで今こうなっちゃったのか意味わかんないもん！当時と今の自分の感性の開きがすご過ぎる…。  東京に来る       バンドは大学からですね。文芸部だったんだけど、当時仲が良かった現・夫が軽音楽部に入ってて、そのライブを観て衝撃を受けて。2年の時に途中入部で軽音楽部に入りました。実は入学した時点で音楽やろうかなと思って軽音学部を見学に行ったんだけど、ダサ過ぎて…。コピーバンドと古くさいメタルやハードロックの巣窟だった。一方で文芸部には面白い人が集まってたから、そうだメンバーこっちで集めてオリジナルやれば良いじゃん！と思って。周りの音楽が好きで可愛い女の子に片っ端から声を掛けまくってメンバー揃えて、満を持して軽音学部に入部。ちょっと可愛いとかちょっとカラオケが上手い女子が、楽器が出来る男を捕まえてコピーバンド組んでるのがクソだせえなと思ってたので、最初から下手でも絶対にオリジナルでやろうと思ってた。あと、男の手は借りねえとも思ってた(笑)単に練習とライブが出来る場所を確保するために軽音学部に入った感じ。当時の文芸部の人達って、本も漫画も読むし映画も詳しいし、音楽も多岐にわたって聴いている面白い人が多くて。正直、軽音楽部より音楽的な知見も幅広い人が多かった。Queに毎月出てるアシッドジャズの先輩とか、青山でDJイベントやってる先輩とか、色々な人がいたからね。その時の私のパートはドラムです。消去法でドラムしか残らなかった、人気ないんだよね〜ドラム！(笑) モルモット ⭐︎ ハムスター       1 年後輩でカメコ(以下カメちゃん)って子が文芸部にいて、...

  What happens when a jazz-loving time traveler crash-lands in a Berlin rave? You get Bbop ’s “ Charleston (Hyper Swing Flip) ,” a turbo-charged reimagining of the 1920s classic that puts more swing in your step than a jitterbug on double espresso. With brass that blares like it just broke out of a speakeasy, and a beat that gallops like it’s late for a bass drop, this track doesn’t just nod to the Roaring Twenties—it hands them a Red Bull and tosses them into a strobe-lit warehouse. The tempo is unapologetically frantic, but gloriously so, with Hypertechno rhythms slamming into vintage swing like Gatsby got a hold of a drum machine. Bbop, who hails from Berlin (where techno is basically a birthright), fuses his classical piano chops and jazz background with club-ready sensibilities. And then—because why not—he sprinkles in some Arabic flourishes and calls it ‘Future Swing.’ You’ve got to admire the chaos. This isn’t your grandma’s Charleston—unless your grandma moonlights as a DJ....