Slug. Cockeyed Rabbit Wrapped in Plastic. Here is a band that is comfy-cosy with the sort of imagery that would put off your Aunt Paula and prime even Jimmy Bullard’s gag reflex. However, if you were to check this song’s ingredients before you consume it, you might get a surprise; the sheer number of influences Cockeyed Rabbit evokes makes it the musical equivalent of a dimension-hopping episode of Rick and Morty, as we’re ably hurled from allusion to allusion. Here’s what my philistine palate could detect…

An unexpectedly New Rave vocal delivery surfs a rambunctious wave of unshackled drums and punchy pentatonic riffs. We’re reminded of Absolution-era Muse at points, before being mocked for entertaining such a preposterous thought by a totally non sequitur vocal-and-drum break which bears the song’s verbose title. Things get even more unfamiliar as the musical motifs we’ve been clinging to for dear life and direction are cast aside, and replaced by a lengthy, rather proggy guitar solo that wouldn’t sound out of place on an Alex Lifeson solo album. Suddenly even this subsides, and we are left with the final sucker punch that the 2.47 minute song can muster, delivered in a glove of vocal harmony that is equal parts Kraut Rock and Queen.

Unique, beguiling, headache rock from Sunderland.

 Words by Sam Hurst

Tip by Chris Horkan

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