Crawling from the darkest recesses of a London wasteland, Bad Fractals are a thundering, psychedelic, acid punk and glam trash rock might just be a new genre for me, but I suspect there will be several readers tuning in who aren’t familiar with the genre’s roster. Hailing from the UK, Latvia, Germany, Sardinia & Greece, and with culturally diverse backgrounds in music & performing arts, Bad Fractals bring a uniquely raw, theatrical energy to the party.
As the needle drops on the opening track, I strap myself in for a journey through some far-out places. In 2023, the band teamed up with Youth & Michael Rendall to produce & mix their debut album. I have before me, even if it’s taken the proverbial age to see the light of day. Claiming to be repping for the disillusioned, and being the rage of punk, it’s a big claim to live up to, so I pile on in with my elbows up and gumshield in as ‘Bee Sting’ kicks off, well, not so much kicks off, rather rides in on a cocksure groove with a lot going on the production sounds very clinical mixing some far out sounds with your more trad crust adjit punk.
The album unfolds with lots of gear changes, sounding part PIL, part groove, jazzy freeform rock and a bit of every type of punk tossed in for good luck. At times, I’m scratching my head about where to pitch it, and if I like it or not, one thing I do like is their confidence. These guys can obviously play and try to leave it all out there on every song. ‘Chemical Weddings’ grooves like the first dance again, not really knowing where this sits, maybe they have cracked it and created their own genre alongside the likes of former chumbawumba frontman interrobang. They are right out there musically, take ‘1/2 price paradise’ as an example, mixing Crass with an MDMA acid whig out if you want something more chaotic than the Ozric Tentacles, then these guys might be your jam.
‘Free Range’ is frantic and wacky, then it gets blown away by ‘Strike’ as it rocks hard, followed by a trippy ‘Walk Of Shame’. I guess it took three years to sort out the wonky head from trying to produce this bottle rocket, chaotic acid rock freak out.
Maybe not something I gravitate towards, but an interesting trip and once the earworm has been released, who knows, it might burrow into my noggin and I’ll be a fan in next to no time. Tell that to the Taxman. I’m off to lie in a darkened room
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