A melting pot of oscillating narratives, thunderous soundscapes, and sweeping, no-stone-left-unturned commentary, South London’s frantic, genre-defying septet aren’t just reinventing the wheel with each new release, they’re metamorphosing: blurring the lines of alternative music with their ambiguous and delightfully inscrutable songs.

Sticking with the canine motif of their 2024 debut WOOF., ’s artwork depicts a celestial pup, a shining beacon in angel wings against a grey-washed background. One might naïvely assume that this means their second output would be more uplifting, pure, or feature themes of a lighter nature, but feints aren’t only reserved for Hollywood movies. Where WOOF. ventured into frenetic Sprechgesang – imagine how A Grand Don’t Come For Free would’ve sounded if Mike Skinner had frequented dingier underground clubs and fell for the trances of grittier, more electro-led techno – is a more expansive and unpredictable beast.

Though it was born from the chaos of seemingly endless touring, and penned in the aftermath of taking turns with burnout, the album does possess its lighter moments. Self-proclaimed as “quite wedding-y,” “Snakes” adopts an acoustic approach, melding spaghetti western with toned-down rock that gloriously displays frontman Joe Love’s melodic and enchanting vocals. Similarly, “Aliens” harks back to IDLES with the addition of a grand and often eerie string quartet, adding up to something that could almost be a swaying, arm-in-arm anthem.

These softer moments, however, are just oases of respite, offering brief, few-minute-long breaks in between the snarling, eardrum-rattling Fat Dog tracks we’ve become accustomed to. Album-opener “Smile and Wave” simply doesn’t hold back. Listeners are thrown directly into thrashing waters, while humorously nodding to the penguins of the films (“[Smile and wave] is what the penguins say to each other," say the band. "It’s about however fucked up a situation gets, you should keep your cool.”). Here, there’s no polite introduction, no hand-holding as we step into the writhing sound; we’re straight to the third date, completely at the sonic mercy of Fat Dog.

Shackled to a zealous rhythm, “Go Fuck Urself” offers up more jubilant, indie pop-leaning vocals and more easily deciphered lyrics that point to the macabre (“There's nothing in your head / Until you're swinging in your auntie's shed”). It's utterly melodious, but the ‘80s pop shift comes as a complete surprise after "Smile and Wave", as if the album was being listened to on shuffle. This disjointedness features throughout , but once accustomed to sonic whiplash, what’s realised is a record that, while all a-jumble, is filled with well thought out compositions.

Another ambush comes in the form of the John Lennon-inspired title track. Paying homage to “How Do You Sleep”, we see an unexpected, colossal club beat taking the reins. Daring, Fat Dog proclaims “If you wanna cancel me / Then go ahead and do it please,” taking a brazen jab at cancel culture. Further commentaries note pro-life perspectives (“The Devil”), volatile relationships (“Bad Dog”), and Disney conspiracy theories on “Shit Love” (“You try to freeze me, Walt Disney”).

is a thrilling, carnivalesque extravaganza, and an oftentimes confusing record, but one that I’m more than happy to be baffled and completely turned around by.