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Cave World. An eclectic project of stir-crazy dilution living as a hermit unbeknown to the world or aware of what surrounds it.

There’s no two ways to describe Viagra Boys’ music to the average passer-by or to the generic dabbler of music. Basically, this Swedish sextet – of formally classically trained jazz musicians – essentially make unapologetically raw and bass-driven sludges of post-punk that is ultimately devoid of any sentiment or human instinct.

It has all the ingredients for a stir-crazy cocktail cooked up in the kitchen: (probably the same kitchen microwaving batteries and making squirrels into a hat, mind) distorted narratives of a not so sound mind – or resourceful songwriting? – imposed with sharp accidentals from misshapen jazz instruments and a crude mess of dystopian noise that fits swell in-between the crooked avenues of hardcore and latter-day punk.

“Can you believe it, lizard people? Oh, they’re harvesting our children. Our children are growing up with lizard gills. And animal hair that ain’t normal baby hair. That’s animal hair, you can tell if you touch it, oh, it’s disgusting. I can’t believe it, when I was younger none of this existed. Everything was fine, everything was perfect and now it’s ruined. It’s ruined because you voted on the wrong motherf*cker. Because you didn’t believe him. You wouldn’t believe the sources that I linked you. I told you to read, I told you to do your research. I told you man, I told you they’re harvesting our babies for Adrenochrome”. – Creepy Crawlers, Viagra Boys

A mash-up between the fractured anxiety of Iggy Pop with the illustrious primal songwriting that the likes of Squid possess, Viagra Boys are on a new frontier. Whether they’re the aliens themselves is another story altogether. It’s a crazy dystopian drive of going nowhere in particular, going at no particular speed and with no desire to stop and question your own morality. I think I went insane listening to this album and I’m all here for it. A real different class of post-punk that can’t really be replicated or compared to. My stand-out favourites from the 12-track album would be big-balls-swinging Baby Criminal, Sleaford Mods-infused crazy-hermit themed Troglodyte, straight-edged bassy reflux, Punk Rock Loser and the swampy delusion of Big Boy.

Some worthy repeats in it for you, particularly if you’re a fan of punk: both for old fans and new.