Actual Bastard brings hopelessness, self doubt, nihilism, psychic dread, social anxiety and all yer best boys over for a bag of cans and a pitch black laugh.

The music is like a willow dipping its boughs in a stream, turning its leaves in the wind like a shoal.

Tenth album from beloved Canadian collective finds them getting even more insular and melancholy than its predecessor.

Weekends like this are a beacon of light in darkening times. . . Supersonic is a gem, don’t take it for granted.

This is, perhaps, Gnod at their gentlest, but they’ve not mellowed out.

This is not passive, you need to engage if you want the good stuff, you’ve got to meet it somewhere. In this album’s case, that’s out in the woods.

Vivid with life and unease. As always with mclusky there’s biting tunes, dark wit, and terse wisdom.

Loud, loose, and thrillingly alive, it’s a much needed reminder that not everything is soul-suckingly terrible.

Provocative and stimulating, URGH builds on their debut, I’ve seen a way, creating an intoxicating sound world of its own.

I feel like I might not be playing it loud enough to get the full impact of the thumping beats but it clearly points to greater things to come.

I wouldn’t really describe this as a synth record or as techno but it wanders its own path between them.

Twenty years of The Lovely Eggs seems ridiculous doesn’t it? I remember 2005 like it was, erm, well, I kinda do. Not that long ago was it? The longer they go, the more impressive it is. Maximum DIY. For Dave and Holly this band is their life; they have struggled and fought doing everything themselves for two full decades now, and weirdly it does not seem to have ground them down.

Although it runs the full spectrum from gentle pickin’ through to face meltin’ it finds its best moments in some newer corners between.

It is undoubtedly an unusual quest to try and reveal the hidden romance of public utilities and national infrastructure through instrumental electronic music, but it’s one which continues to deliver delightful results.

Folklore, weird histories and superstition threaded through uneasy compositions of piano loops, vinyl hiss and odd drones.

Friday starts later and Sunday is usually a little more mellow (until The Bug anyway), but Saturday is the overstuffed filling in the festival sandwich – a ridiculous but delicious feast.

Battling mounting odds, and the encroaching horde of dead-eyed money men, the Supersonic crew keep the torches burning for the experimental and the just plain weird. Despite continuing venue difficulties, 2025’s edition of the festival was as great as ever, a defiant celebration of musical exploration and the shared magic of performance.

It’s raging, but in a fun way. You’re gonna love it.

Friends! Comrades! Brothers and sisters! Supersonic Festival 2025 hastens towards us, a tasty samosa in one hand and an overloaded sackful of musical adventure in the other.

Summons the music’s tougher, more upbeat, alter-ego(s) to come out and burn through their social battery.

Chop Club On Road is a reflective meditation. Less grafting, more zoning out this time.