Articles by Jared Dix
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.
If you’re in the mood for some zone out drone psych it absolutely hits the spot.
Riff driven, horror themed, chunks of heavy metal good times.
moisturizer finds Wet Leg growing into their power and it’s a great summer album, catchy, fun, witty, in love.
On the release of ‘Horses’, the second track ahead of their forthcoming EP Manic Pixie Dream Pop Jared Dix has a quick word with Birmingham electro-punks Monoxide Brothers.
A little cosmic, a little shambolic but mostly an album in love with the limitless joy of sound.
Despite the pain that twists through it this is a very human and beautiful recording.
Massive and imposing, the sound is also warm and detailed. It’s a glorious noise to get lost in.
An extraordinary patchwork of sounds set out with the bold geometry and clear, bright, colour palette of their artwork.
Wrong Speed veterans put a shift in at the art-punk foundry.
The new line-up brings some amazing vocal harmonies and puts the sax up front and centre. Less cosmic journey and more raucous rock ‘n’ roll dance party. It’s melodious and bold, not jazz or atonal skronk. The overall effect is very 70s in feel though, amped up rock ‘n’ roll, proto punk. Strikingly unfashionable but undeniably tremendous fun.
This one then, is a history lesson, part of a continuing examination of an extraordinary cultural contribution. It awaits your curiosity.
Collapsing thirty odd years of underground rock weirdness into something powerful and sticky.
Angry and absurd, sharply constructed. It’s pretty much everything you want from a fourth mclusky album.
