AMYL AND THE SNIFFERS - Cartoon Darkness (2024)

07 Aug, 2025

lled, ironic, and furious about current social and mainstream topics without being absorbed by them. That distance is just enough to let her voice erupt lyrically. You can clearly see a development from the first, self-titled 2019 album: the (conceptual) aggressiveness has grown and her vocals have shed those filters, delivering a raw scream and a more intense and ever more persuasive performance. It seems now the band orbits around (and is shaped by) Amy Taylor. This is the album of “maturity”: there’s charisma, there’s anger—sometimes controlled with remarkable clarity and inventiveness—there’s a feeling of independence that echoes in the impressions left by listening. From Pixies-esque songs to the gritty English sound of the early ’80s, you can recognize a style (sometimes even a punk spirit). But without all the crisp, detailed post-production common to many bands in that gray area between the punk and post-punk genres that’s so popular now.

They aren’t domesticated, upper-class living room types like Fontaines D.C., nor are they as produced and glossy as IDLES.

Even on the softer tracks—through every album—they stay true to my expectations, I hear that punk-rock core with drums and beats that recall the Ramones, and guitar riffs that, at points, are as cheeky as those of TSOL.

And she pours her soul out with a authenticity increasingly hard to find today.

If I had to point out a flaw: they are a true unicum on the global stage.