Pleb, a Leeds‑based duo featuring members of Cattle, Grub Nap, and Groak, arrive with a debut EP that feels less like a recording and more like a blunt-force object. They describe Grease Trap as the tank beneath a sink that catches food and fat before it clogs the drain, an appropriately filthy metaphor for a project built from grindcore abrasion, death‑metal grime, doom‑laden weight, and hardcore ferocity. Guitarist Delia Fraser and drummer Steve Myles assemble these pieces with zero apologies, proving they’re not backing down from anything without a fight.
Right from the opening track, ‘Clods of Shit and Bone’, it’s clear this isn’t some polished, pop‑metal detour. The growling feedback and post‑punk tension slice through the air like a knife, building into a sludge‑soaked snarl that crawls up your spine. When the tempo kicks into a 500‑mph sprint, it channels the Scum‑era Napalm Death spirit so intensely that you can practically imagine Lee Dorrian nodding in approval at the Leeds duo carrying the legacy forward.
‘The Bruises Mean It’s on the Way Out’ erupts like a cannon blast, functioning as an alternate soundtrack ripped straight from the Metal Hurlant universe, pure gore, pure sci‑fi, and pure rebellion. It’s a middle finger to corporate comic‑book gloss, a reminder of how stories can be told without devolving into popcorn‑fuelled nonsense.
Pleb extend that middle finger toward the corporate falsetto machine, and yes, toward Steel Panther too. They play mean, fast, and with total conviction. Tracks like ‘The Eyes Melt First’ and ‘Put It Back’ feel like a grindcore mutation of VOIVOD and Venom’s early Noise/Neat‑era chaos, drenched in sludge thick enough to soundtrack video games between Dead Space 2 or Cronos: The New Dawn. They’re essentially composing their own adult‑animated film, channeling the spirit of the 1981 cult classic Heavy Metal and the 1988 landmark of anime, Akira.
‘Evolutionary Roadblock’ revs the engines even harder, setting up a menacing pace that primes listeners for the head‑banging momentum of ‘The Streets Aren’t Reliable in the Slightest’. Delia’s guitar work is all kill‑shot, no pretense, she’s not chasing guitar‑god status, she’s carving out her own vicious identity. Her riffs hit with the force of Celtic Frost and the precision of Napalm Death’s Mitch Harris, especially on ‘You and Me Baby Ain’t Nothing but Cannibals’, where Steve transforms into a percussive werewolf devouring everything in sight before tearing into ‘Belly Up’.
And no, this isn’t the cringey Twilight franchise. As Alex DeLarge says in Stanley Kubrick’s A Clockwork Orange, “a real horror show”. It’s a chainsaw‑splattered slasher that nods to the true horror greats of the ’70s and ’80s, the kind of gore-fest that would make Dario Argento and George A. Romero, grin at the carnage.
There are plenty of tips of the hat to the bands mentioned, but the real joy is digging into Pleb’s debut EP yourself and deciding what you find buried in the muck. Whether you get it or you don’t, Pleb are absolutely a band to watch and listen to. And in the words of Optimus Prime from Transformers: The Movie, “All we need is a little energon, and a lot of luck”.
