The mere mention of Mclusky is often enough to elicit a laugh. Formed in 1996, the Welsh noise-rockers made absurdity their business from day one. With such song titles as ‘The World Loves Us And Is Our Bitch’ and ‘Kkkitchens, What Were You Thinking?’, it’s safe to say they never took themselves all that seriously. Joking aside, the hard-riffing surrealists released a run of three stellar studio albums before splitting in 2005. Now, after a tantalisingly slow reformation that began in 2014, they bring us the world is still here and so are we, their first album in 20 years. A glance at titles like ‘kafka-esque novelist franz kafka’ and ‘the battle of los angelsea’ suggests frontman Andrew “Falco” Falcous’ knack for wry non-sequiturs hasn’t diminished. Is it possible, though, that beneath the relentless shtick Mclusky have… matured?
The album opens with ‘unpopular parts of a pig’, its scratchy, dissonant guitar, tightly distorted bass and natural, roomy drums sounding warmly familiar. Eighteen seconds in we’re treated to a classic Mcluskyism: a speak-sung acapella section followed by a sudden implosion of riffing and screamed vocals. These light-footed dynamic changes worked a charm twenty years ago and in 2025 they’re no less thrilling, pitching energy levels sky-high from the off. But Mclusky aren’t playing by numbers. The off-beat stabs and caveman drums of ‘cops and coppers’, and the bluesy, sleaze-rock lead line of ‘the digger you deep’ indicate a willingness to experiment with the old formula.
‘Way of the exploding dickhead’ is an anthemic moment. With lyrics mocking the uproar surrounding surge-priced tickets to enormo-dome reunion gigs and a horrifying video featuring an incessantly twerking gym bro, we’re reminded that Falco’s lyrics often function as delivery systems for caustic social critique. ‘People person’ follows suit and its refrain of “I’m just a normal man, I’m not a people person” feels oddly comforting to those of us with misanthropic tendencies. However, it’s the more cryptic and indecipherable moments on the album that prove the most enjoyable. ‘Chekov’s guns’, for instance, juxtaposes imagery of snooker halls, bathtubs and firing squads to hilarious effect.
The world is still here and so are we will inevitably be weighed against the band’s 2002 classic, Mclusky Do Dallas. A special album indeed, full of joyous pop hooks, menacing basslines and more one-liners than a working men’s club comic. But to wallow in nostalgia is to miss the point. As the title of this release reminds us, Mclusky are here with us now and guess what? They’ve grown up. Don’t panic: they’re as daft and irreverent as ever but there’s a newfound inventiveness to their songwriting that’s clearly the result of experience. With Falco and drummer Jack Egglestone perennially busy with projects like Future of the Left and Christian Fitness, the past twenty years haven’t been spent idly, and it shows. Playful, scathing and explosive, Mclusky are officially back in business, and business is good.
