The Wombats have always been the indie band with a twinkle in their eye and a foot on the dancefloor. Bursting out of mid-2000s Liverpool, the trio made a name with witty lyrics about neurotic love lives and nights out, all wrapped in ridiculously catchy tunes. Dismissed by some as "landfill indie" back in the day, they've outlasted the naysayers – evolving, scoring chart hits, even finding new life on TikTok – all while never taking themselves too seriously.

With their new album 'Oh! The Ocean' out now, we look back and pick ten essential Wombats tracks that capture their journey from giddy upstarts to seasoned indie heroes. Conversational and humorous, yes - but underneath the jokes, there's genuine craft and a legacy of tunes that have made many a night unforgettable.

If The Wombats have a signature song, this is the one that wears the crown. 'Let's Dance to Joy Division' is an indie disco anthem celebrating misery by throwing its arms around pure joy. Over spiky guitars and a thumping beat, frontman Matthew "Murph" Murphy urges us to "celebrate the irony" – because what's more fun than dancing to one of the most famously gloomy bands ever? The result was irresistible: the song became an encore staple and was even voted NME's Best Dancefloor Filler in 2008​. It's aged into a cult classic that brings festival crowds together in euphoric singalongs (helped by the fact that its chorus is absurdly shoutable after a pint or three). At Wombats gigs, it often culminates in a scene of mayhem – think adults in full wombat costumes invading the stage, dancing like loons around a cackling Murph​. In a world of po-faced peers, The Wombats broke ranks with a grin, proving you can be clever, cathartic, and a little bit silly all at once.

Jump forward a decade, and here's 'Turn', showing how far The Wombats have come without losing their touch. This 2018 single is a shimmering alt-pop gem that finds Murph in a contemplative mood. Over a relaxed, woozy groove, he muses about love's little madnesses – "Maybe it's the crazy that I'd miss," he admits, delivering one of the band's most oddly romantic lines. 'Turn' is smoother and more mature than the frantic riff-driven hits of their early years, yet it's no less infectious. In fact, it became something of an alternative radio staple, even snagging Annie Mac's Hottest Record on BBC Radio 1 upon release​. The song racked up tens of millions of streams, proof that the Wombats could navigate the streaming era just fine​. With its sun-drenched synth hooks and a chorus made for crowd swaying, 'Turn' confirmed that The Wombats' knack for earworm melodies had only grown stronger with time – now with a dose of reflective depth creeping in amid the usual fun.

In 2007, The Wombats announced their presence with a tongue firmly in cheek. 'Kill the Director' was their frenzied takedown of rom-com clichés, delivered at breakneck speed. Murph famously declares, "This is no Bridget Jones", as the band charges through jangly chords and pogo-ready drums. It's ridiculously tuneful and riotously funny – a 2-minute-50-second eye-roll at Hollywood love stories from three lads far more concerned with real life's messiness. The song's kinetic energy and quotable one-liners made it an instant fan favourite​. It even found a second life on TV, cropping up in The Inbetweeners, cementing itself as an anthem for disillusioned teens on both the dancefloor and the sofa. Critically, it showed that behind the jokes was a band with serious pop chops: hooks upon hooks and a tight rhythm section that never lets up. Listening now, 'Kill the Director' is a time capsule of mid-00s indie mania, sure – but it still thrills with its youthful sarcasm and that breathless pace that leaves you as breathless as the band sounds by the end​. Not bad for a song that set out to skewer Hugh Grant movies.

With a title like a B-movie and a chorus built for a packed club, 'Tokyo (Vampires & Wolves)' marked The Wombats' triumphant leap onto global dancefloors. In 2010, this track heralded a new era: slicker production, synths buzzing under the guitars, and a nightlife-ready vibe. Murph sings about running away to Tokyo amid creatures of the night – a metaphor for escapism. The song's electro-indie punch was immediately effective. It became one of their most successful international singles, even cracking the charts in Australia (peaking at Number 33) and landing at eight in Triple J's Hottest 100 of 2010​. In the UK, it turned many casual listeners into fans, drawn by those irresistibly catchy "oh oh oh" hooks. 'Tokyo' also proved the band could incorporate dance-pop elements without losing their identity – Murph's wit and the band's energy still shine through the neon glow. By the time the last chorus hits, you feel like you're on that crazy night out with them, vampires, wolves and all. An essential party track in the Wombats canon, 'Tokyo' succeeded in building hype for their second album and kept the indie discos alive​.

For many early fans, this is where it all began. 'Moving to New York' predates the band's debut album (it was first released in 2006) and later became one of their highest-charting hits. It's an anthem of youthful frustration wrapped in a ridiculously catchy package – all stabbing riffs and a shout-along chorus. Murph wrote it about the comedown after Christmas back home, dreaming of swapping rained-on Liverpool for the bright lights of NYC. The relatable angst (who hasn't wanted to move far away at some point?) and the punchy, Britpop-esque energy struck a chord. The song eventually hit Number 13 on the UK charts, the band's highest showing to date back then​. Over time 'Moving to New York' has become a staple of The Wombats' live set – a fan favourite the band plays with giddy enthusiasm even now​. That opening guitar riff is enough to send a crowd into delirium, and by the time the chorus arrives, you'll likely find yourself hollering along. It's a reminder of The Wombats' indie-rock fundamentals: witty angst, a driving beat, and a melody that practically grabs you by the collar and insists you move.

One of the joys of following The Wombats is seeing how they smuggle melancholy into songs. A standout from 2018's 'Beautiful People Will Ruin Your Life', 'Lemon to a Knife Fight' shows this skill in spades. First off, there's that wonderfully odd title – a phrase Murph coined after losing an argument with his wife, feeling as outgunned as someone who brought a lemon to, well, you get the idea. The song begins ominously, with dark surf-rock guitars twanging under Murph's brooding vocals before exploding into a huge, anthemic chorus. There's a cinematic flair here (fittingly, Murph was inspired by a scene from Twin Peaks) as if our hero realises he's utterly unprepared for the battle of love but charges in anyway. The track's potent mix of moodiness and momentum makes it – the way it pairs emotional vulnerability with a danceable indie-rock punch​. By the time Murph yells, "I brought a lemon to a knife fight!" in the final chorus, you're ready to charge with him, hopeless odds be damned, shouting along all the way.

Few songs capture The Wombats' playful party spirit like 'Techno Fan'. This track from 2011's 'This Modern Glitch' album is the band at their most exuberant and tongue-in-cheek. It's an ode to being an awkward indie kid lost in the pulsating lights of a Euro dance club – "Dutch courage on the dancefloor", as one lyric wryly notes. Ironically, for a song about not really liking techno, it's as danceable as anything they've done: bouncy synths, a four-on-the-floor beat, and a chorus that launches into the stratosphere. 'Techno Fan' shows off The Wombats' talent for blending genres within their own thematic pot – it's indie-rock having a gleeful fling with electro-pop, unmistakable as them, but trying something new. Fun, a bit absurd, and utterly infectious, 'Techno Fan' is The Wombats letting their hair down and inviting us to do the same.

Diving into The Wombats' deep cuts can be rewarding, and 'Metro Song' is proof. Never released as a single and originally available only on a Japan-only 2006 album, this track became a treasured secret among the Wombats faithful​. Why essential? Because early Wombats had a scrappy charm that 'Metro Song' bottles perfectly. It's all here – the jagged guitars, the upbeat tempo, Murph's cheeky storytelling – unpolished perhaps, but bursting with personality. The lyrics paint a wry picture, and the chorus is deceptively huge for a song that was effectively a posh B-side. Listening to 'Metro Song' feels like crashing a rehearsal session or a sweaty basement gig circa 2005, catching a hungry young band just before they hit the big time. There's a scrappy exuberance that hardcore fans adore – so much so that many will cite this as an underrated favourite. Consider 'Metro Song' the connoisseur's choice on this list: proof that even The Wombats' offcuts are worryingly catchy and worth knowing by heart.

By 2015, The Wombats had grown up a bit – and 'Greek Tragedy' was the glorious evidence. This track from their third album, 'Glitterbug', is drama distilled into four minutes, a song that manages to be dark, dancey, and deeply affecting all at once. The band dialled up the synths and heartbreak: Murph chronicles a relationship's collapse with references to ancient tragedy, singing, "She hits like ecstasy" as everything falls apart. The irony, of course, is that he makes despair sound ecstatic. 'Greek Tragedy" showed a marked departure toward a more serious tone for the band​, yet it kept their knack for a massive chorus intact (the "oooh" hook here is a killer). The song became one of their best-charting hits globally​, proving that The Wombats could mature without losing their audience. Its impact has been far-reaching: the accompanying music video – a grimly comic mini-horror film in which a crazed fan murders the band – became a talking point​, and years later, the track found an entire second life thanks to a viral TikTok remix. The upshot is that 'Greek Tragedy' now bridges generations of listeners - a trick The Wombats pull off better than almost anyone.

Rounding out the list is a song that captures The Wombats in a moment of intoxicating introspection. 'Jump Into the Fog' is as much a mood as it is a tune – a slightly noir-tinged pop song that opens with menacing piano chords and Murph's sly observation that "It's just a matter of time before we're all found out." The track builds into a lush, synth-laced chorus that feels like stepping willingly into chaos, hand-in-hand with the band. Lyrically, it's one of their more cryptic efforts, hiding its darker subject matter behind wry imagery, but musically it's immediate and grand. Upon release, it gave The Wombats another radio hit and showed their range beyond the spiky antics of their debut. Fans quickly took to its atmospheric vibe, and it became a staple of their live sets​.