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The first notes of Mandy, Indiana’s new record hit like a dare: a jittery pulse, a club-ready kick, and low synth rumble that feels like a machine warming up. Within moments the calm breaks. Cymbals crash, guitars wail, bass grinds and Valentine Caulfield unloads a vocal assault that refuses to be ignored. URGH announces itself as an album that will test your nerves and demand attention.
How URGH reshapes the band’s noise-rock identity
On their second full-length, the Mancunian-Parisian quartet tighten their noise-rock core and push it into sharper, stranger territory. Instead of repeating a formula, they expand textures. Songs mutate, collapse, and rebuild. The result is abrasive but deliberate music that rewards focused listening.
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URGH trades straightforward riffs for sculpted sonics. The production favors tactile details — metallic clashes, granular synths, and ragged guitar edges. Those elements combine to form compact, intense soundscapes that feel handcrafted.
Studio craft: production choices that give the record its bite
Co-produced and co-mixed by Scott Fair with Daniel Fox of Gilla Band, the album has a muscular, physical sound. Tracks often feel like small constructed environments. Each layer sits in a precise place.
- Mixing emphasizes percussion hits and abrasive textures.
- Synths are treated as both harmonic and percussive devices.
- Vocal treatments range from raw shout to glitchy Auto-Tune.
This hands-on approach makes URGH a record that reveals new details on repeat plays. It’s a headphones-first release, dense with micro-moments.
Key tracks and what they do
The album unfolds in jagged vignettes. A few standouts show how Mandy, Indiana balance chaos and structure.
- “Sevastopol” — An opener that sets a jagged tone. Distorted synth stabs and processed vocals immediately establish tension.
- “Magazine” — Starts restrained and then bursts into violent percussion and screaming guitar. Caulfield’s voice drives the track’s ferocity.
- “Dodecahedron” — Lives up to its title with kaleidoscopic synth layers that fold into a dizzying outro.
- “Life Hex” — A nod to retro horror aesthetics, complete with atonal guitar flourishes and cinematic dread.
- “Cursive” — Built on a repeating rhythmic motif that fragments as the track progresses. It feels like a collage assembled in real time.
- “Sicko!” — Features New York rapper billy woods. His verse weaves dense, image-driven lines into the band’s claustrophobic backdrop.
- “I’ll Ask Her” — The album’s most direct narrative, delivered mainly in English, and among its most confrontational pieces.
Voices and politics: themes threaded through the lyrics
Valentine Caulfield’s delivery is central. She alternates between venom and wounded clarity. Her lyrics confront abusers, hypocrisy, and larger political pain without softening the language.
She directs anger at specific targets and wider systems. One track evokes scenes stretching from European cities to regions under siege, insisting on accountability and survival. Elsewhere she names and unmasks predatory behavior within male social circles. Those lines land hard and leave little room for doubt.
Guest verse that cuts
Billy Woods contributes a dense, rapid-fire turn on “Sicko!” His imagery compounds the album’s unsettling atmosphere. The pairing of his cerebral rap with the band’s abrasive backdrop creates one of the record’s most intense moments.
Musicianship: how the band reacts in the moment
Beyond the studio manipulation, the record captures visceral interplay. Alex Macdougall’s drumming and Scott Fair’s guitars frequently collide in unpredictable ways. Simon Catling’s bass tends to anchor the turbulence with a gritty bottom end. The group dynamic makes songs feel like constructed arguments — each player answering the others.
Fair’s role as producer lets him sculpt the tracks as if he were assembling found objects. The music often sounds like it’s being remixed while you listen. That constant reconfiguration becomes a compositional device.
Why URGH demands attention
This album is intentionally difficult. It refuses to be background noise. It provokes, unsettles, and at times overwhelms. That friction is the point.
URGH is a record that rewards persistence. The more you dig, the more the textures and confrontations reveal themselves. It’s a work built for listeners who don’t shy away from discomfort and who want music that engages both body and conscience.
