THE COMPULSIONS Drop a Vicious New Lyric Video, Torching AI-Era Pretenders and Industry-Manufactured Darlings

(New York, NY) — While the music industry stuffs its feeds with algorithm-approved pop-outs and label-built mascots, The Compulsions kick the door off its hinges with the lyric video for their forthcoming single, “Baby, Baby, Baby (Baby).” It’s a nasty little reminder that real danger still comes from humans—sweating, snarling, bleeding—down in the trenches.

From the first bar, Rob Carlyle sounds like he clawed his way out of a basement window—guitars rattling around him like chains in a hallway. There’s a primal, lived-in menace to his voice: part blues shaman, part alley prophet, all grit. The performance lands somewhere between a gravel-throated bluesman and a streetwise rock ’n’ roll hustler—an energy no machine can counterfeit, and no label incubator can manufacture.

The foundation was laid in early demo sessions with longtime creative partner and New York Blues Hall of Famer Hugh Pool, who built a drum loop that hits with the finality of a locked vault. Then Rob Clores (The Black Crowes, Spin Doctors) storms in and tears the hinges off the organ, turning the solo section into a fevered, resurrection-gone-wrong ritual. It’s blues and punk and lust and payback—all colliding at full speed.

Visually, the lyric video feels like a threat delivered after dark. Shot by Delissa Santos, the black-and-white footage captures Clores beating the hell out of the keys while Carlyle stalks in the background and Pool commands the board. Carlyle’s neon-pink handwritten titles slash across the frame like a warning note slid under a door.

In a moment when “artists” are being printed out of servers and overhyped by committees, “Baby, Baby, Baby (Baby)” is a violent reminder of what the real thing sounds like: raw nerve, crooked grin, blood under the fingernails. Music that isn’t here to charm you—it’s here to give you the reckoning you earned.

Watch the lyric video now on The Compulsions’ Instagram.



Crank it. And don’t say you weren’t warned.