Amyl & The Sniffers embrace chaos, humour, and fire on their third album.

Words: Ciaran Picker.

If you want a band to tread on eggshells and ease you in, then Amyl & The Sniffers aren’t the band for you. Renowned for being a heartfelt throwback to the days of vicious, visceral punk-rock, thrashing and brawling their way to the top of the tree, they find themselves at the biggest point of their career. To document this exact moment - this tightrope between cult following and global stardom - they’re back with an album that delves deeper into their political message, full to the brim with personality and with more panache and poise than you might expect.

Recorded at Foo Fighters’ 606 Studios in Los Angeles, their third album ‘Cartoon Darkness’ takes personal diary entries and morphs them into a universal experience, backed up by a soundscape that’s kicked up into sixth gear and befits the hallowed ground on which the album was made. "It was very, very special," vocalist Amy Taylor reminisces. "We were using the desk that’s been signed by Stevie Nicks. It’s where ‘Rumours’ and ‘Nevermind’ were made, so it’s like, ‘If this album is shit, it’s our fault!’"

Thankfully - and unsurprisingly - the album is far from it. Arguably their most rounded release yet, ‘Cartoon Darkness’ contains all the impish charm and mischief that you’d expect - plus enough foul language in opening track ‘Jerkin’’ to make those of a nervous disposition have a fit - but with an added depth and layering of sounds that turns a run-of-the-mill punk album into a record that sees the Melbourne quartet set their sights on the stratosphere.

‘Cartoon Darkness’ embodies the world around them from both a personal and societal perspective. Covering topics as universally important as climate change, the use of data and AI, and ongoing widespread misogyny, it’s a searing tirade that proves Amyl & The Sniffers have no intention of curbing their fiery side in favour of more fame. It’s brought them this far, so why can’t it take them even further?

Despite this laser-like focus on the issues of the day and the added pressure of the history of their surroundings, there’s still more than enough humour and levity on the record, providing much-needed relief from what could otherwise be pretty demoralising subject matter. This clash between fury-fuelled ragers and humour-heavy breaks is the exact conundrum summed up in the album’s title.

The phrase is a lyric used in punk anthem ‘Doing In Me Head’, one which uses the rebellious spirit of 1970s anarchists to analyse 2024 with a fire and frustration that is almost depressingly relatable. Where it’s easy to get dragged down by this, Amy does the opposite, running headfirst at a problem with a cheesy grin and determined ambition.