Review: The Dirt

Next up is the new album Monkeypunch from The Dirt, a marital sonic psych-punk duo spanning the UK and Japan. Formed in 2021, they’ve already built a reputation for doing something genuinely different - blending looped guitars, punchy percussion and rapid-fire, thought-provoking lyrics into a sound that feels like five musicians packed into two. With a relentless DIY ethos and two studio albums under their belt, this is a band that don’t just make noise - they shape it into something hypnotic, repetitive and strangely addictive.

The album opens with Intro (Truth Extinction), a low-fi spoken word piece that paints a dystopian picture of the near future. It’s grim, but not without energy or purpose. There’s an undercurrent of rebellion running through the poetic delivery, and as the music begins to swell, so does the sense that this isn’t defeatist - it’s defiant. It feels eerily current, like a theme tune for the world we’re drifting towards, setting the tone perfectly for what’s to come.

End Games kicks in with a swagger that feels almost Iggy Pop in its movement, but quickly evolves into something far more modern and urban. The vocal delivery is sharp, direct and impossible to ignore, pulling you into its message. There’s a clear punk ethos here, but it’s fused with futuristic beats and abrasive, buzzsaw guitars. It carries the same sense of purpose that once fuelled bands like The Sex Pistols or Rage Against the Machine, yet the execution is entirely its own. The “Let’s go” refrain is oddly infectious, cutting through the chaos with a hook that sticks.

Next comes Bed of Nails, which eases in with a Doors-like atmosphere before the guitars erupt into something more chaotic and grunge-tinged. The vocals are delivered with a restrained venom - not shouted, but loaded with intent. There’s a poetic quality to it, slightly spaced-out and reflective, giving the track a depth that reveals itself more with each listen. This is a recurring theme across the album - every spin uncovers something new.

Gaelor opens like an 80s electro-goth epic, showing yet another side to the band before the vocals drag it firmly into the present day with a confident urban edge. The hook sits within a deceptively simple guitar line that almost feels like a second vocal - catchy, repetitive and strangely uplifting in a warped, off-kilter way. It’s controlled chaos, layered yet minimal, building steadily before fading away like it was never there.

With Crash Test, the electro-goth elements return but on a much bigger scale. It’s hard to call the frontman a singer - he’s more of a wordsmith, wrapping ideas and themes around the music in a way that brings the track to life. There’s social commentary here, but it’s never forced or preachy. Instead, it reflects the confusion and contradictions of 2026 in a way that feels honest and open. The hypnotic vocal delivery almost distracts from just how layered the instrumentation is - another track that rewards repeat listens.

Darwin’s Law shifts things again, echoing the spoken word style of the intro but with a more intense and evolving delivery. It demands your attention, its non-linear structure allowing each listener to take something different from it. One of the team described it as a 2026 take on The End by The Doors, and it’s easy to see why. The way the vocal builds in intensity without ever tipping into full aggression is a masterclass in restraint.

Demon Seed follows as a neon-lit nightmare, walking the line between calm and chaos. The slow-burning intro gives way to a more rhythmic, aggressive vocal style, and because that aggression is used sparingly across the album, it hits harder when it arrives. There’s a slightly more commercial edge here, with echoes of Carter USM at their darkest, making it one of the more immediate tracks on the record.

OAK creeps in quietly before building into something primal and hypnotic. The vocal delivery is almost chant-like, the lyrics abstract and open to interpretation. It’s a track that invites you to find your own meaning within it, rather than telling you what to think. The repeated “OAK OAK” refrain adds a raw, human energy that contrasts beautifully with the futuristic swirl of the instrumentation.

Finally, the album closes with Chaos, and it’s exactly that - one last surge of energy where everything comes together. The guitars twist and drive the track forward while the vocal soars above, punctuated by the aggressive repetition of the title. It builds, shifts and evolves before eventually burning itself out, leaving a silence that almost demands you go back to the beginning and experience it all again.

Monkeypunch is bold, brave and unapologetically different. It’s an album that refuses to sit still, constantly shifting, challenging and rewarding the listener in equal measure. The Dirt don’t just push boundaries - they ignore them entirely. And in doing so, they’ve created something that’s as chaotic as it is compelling. One thing’s for certain… this record doesn’t just punch - it leaves a mark.