The London punk-rap band’s second album advocates for repatriation and an aggressive approach to the rental crisis. But equally important, says frontman Bobby Vylan, is promoting hope and self-worth

Bobby Vylan attended his first pro-Palestine protest at the age of 15, escorted by a friend’s mother. He remembers the “feeling of people coming together and using their voice to say that they don’t stand by the actions of this country”. Nearly two decades later, the singer and guitarist of rap-punk duo Bob Vylan has found himself marching again amid the escalation of destruction in Gaza since October 2023. He has also been calling out bands that describe themselves as leftwing but haven’t shown solidarity with Palestinians: at a show in Dublin in November, he castigated Idles and Sleaford Mods for their “cowardice”. (Idles subsequently voiced their support ; Sleaford Mods’ Jason Williams said he is “horrified by the atrocities committed in Gaza and Israel”.) When I meet Bobby in Shoreditch, he reiterates his disgust for any act that stays silent despite having a radical aesthetic. “You might want to think of a new angle for your next album,” he says.

A burning sense of rage against injustice amplifies his fearsome but beautiful roar on stage and in the studio. Bob Vylan sing music that draws as much from grime as it does hardcore and tackles themes from the cost of living crisis, unscrupulous landlords and toxic masculinity in explicit, cursing, mocking fury. On the one hand, their abrasiveness makes their popularity seem remarkable – their last album, Bob Vylan Presents the Price of Life , reached the UK Top 20 – but they also couldn’t be more attuned to the state of the nation, their visceral live shows a jolt out of the doldrums: no wonder people are paying attention. They’ve formed their own scene far from the UK’s post-punk orthodoxy, collaborating with the likes of avant garde Bristol producer Grove, Laurie Vincent of Soft Play (formerly Slaves) and Enter Shikari. Still, they’re aiming higher this time. On their new album, Bobby sings: “The album went to 18 but they know I’m No 1.” Humble as the Sun represents an ambitious step up, with hip-hop-influenced production and high-profile samples, including revamping Fatboy Slim’s Right Here, Right Now on a track of the same name.

MPF is a progressive punk festival that plays to a younger crowd. It promotes startup/DIY bands led by women, people of colour and LGBTQ+ people by putting them on the same stage as more established acts

In his first interview since the death of the influential band’s guitarist, Geordie Walker, the singer talks about their friendship, transhumanism and his fears that rogue AI will destroy the world

There are many crazy stories about Jaz Coleman. There was the time he went missing and resurfaced living a nomadic existence in Western Sahara. He has claimed to have seen a UFO – actually seven orange orbs, one bearing the image of a stick man – in central London. Once, he was so annoyed by a Melody Maker review that he stormed into the magazine’s offices and dumped rotting liver and maggots over the reception desk. Today, though, video-calling from Argentina, he is reflective and emotional.

“I’m still in terrible shock,” says the 64-year-old from behind dark sunglasses in the South American daylight. “It’s been an incredibly difficult time for everybody around Killing Joke.” He is talking about the death of Kevin Walker, better known as Geordie. The hugely influential guitarist and band co-founder died in Prague in November , also aged 64, after a stroke.

Born in early-80s Hamburg, they became the toast of goth discos. As they release a singles collection, they recall their shock at seeing Thatcher’s Britain – and the sexist cynics who underestimated them

Anja Huwe realised things were about to change for Xmal Deutschland in 1982, when they opened for Cocteau Twins. Up until then, the band had been a creative experiment concocted by five women in Hamburg’s small but productive punk scene. Now, embarking on a UK-wide tour and recently signed to 4AD, the experiment was starting to look like it could become a phenomenon.

“I wanted to be part of a band but not really the front person,” remembers vocalist Anja Huwe. “When we had our first gig with the Cocteau Twins, that was when I really realised: this could be something for me.”

Thirty years on from their masterpiece album The Downward Spiral, we assess the studies of faith, authority and self-loathing from Trent Reznor’s band

Year Zero isn’t Nine Inch Nails’ strongest album, veering towards the kind of overproduced studio product that Grammys voters like – although there is still a distinct imprimatur to this mainstream blues-rock, as if finished with a black NIN wax seal. God Given is its pop moment, with distorted noises building the type of groove that Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera or Kylie Minogue might have tried out at the time in a moment of label-troubling moodiness.

Coldplay become act to headline most times with their fifth top slot, while Shania Twain is booked for the Sunday teatime ‘legend’ set as the lineup is announced

Dua Lipa, Coldplay and SZA will headline Glastonbury 2024, a diverse spread of A-list artists matched by a strong supporting lineup across the festival including Little Simz, LCD Soundsystem and Burna Boy, plus Shania Twain in the always-jubliant “legend” slot.

Much loved by Glastonbury founder Michael Eavis who once said they can “call in and do the milking any time” on his Worthy Farm site, Coldplay continue their longstanding relationship with the festival, becoming the first act to headline the Pyramid stage five times. They launched themselves into pop-rock’s big leagues with their first headline performance in 2002 when they had only released one album, and have since headlined in 2005, 2011 and 2016, as well as doing a livestreamed performance to an empty Pyramid stage field in lieu of a 2021 festival cancelled due to the Covid-19 pandemic.

(Third Man)
What started life as a disco EP designed to help the band through personal difficulties has evolved into a refined, joyful take on their distortion-lagged rock

In 2015, Philadelphia’s Sheer Mag released their second EP in collaboration with a tiny Brooklyn punk label. Its lead track, Fan the Flames, was one of those songs that just stops you in your tracks. It seemed to be rooted in music that had far less to do with punk than the mainstream hard rock that predominated when punk first reared its head: there was Thin Lizzy and quite possibly some Lynyrd Skynyrd in its unhurried sound, while lead guitarist Kyle Seely was audibly engaged in the kind of playing that would once have been approvingly referred to as “laying down” some “tasty licks”. But the sound was lo-fi and absolutely everything was caked in distortion, including the voice of Tina Halladay, a potent, soulful wail that, on closer inspection, was delivering a call-to-arms against unscrupulous landlords and gentrification. Between the classic rock references, the noise, the dextrous musicianship, the vocal delivery and the righteously pissed-off lyrics lurked the exciting sense that this was a band who weren’t quite like anyone else around at the moment, amplified by the fact that Sheer Mag didn’t do social media, or grant interviews to the press.

Since then, Sheer Mag have eased up on their media blackout and released two full-length albums that honed the sound found on Fan the Flames: retro-glancing rock of the hard – and, occasionally, soft – variety, noisy punk/garage aesthetics, political lyrics, killer guitar playing and Halladay’s equally killer voice. Both 2017’s Need to Feel Your Love and 2019’s A Distant Call come highly recommended – if you’re in the market for a vaguely New Wave of British Heavy Metal-influenced call for armed socialist revolution, hasten to the latter album’s Chopping Block – but Playing Favorites is a noticeably different beast. For one thing, it started life as a disco EP – an attempt, the band have suggested, to shake off personal difficulties through euphoric music. These origins are still intermittently audible on Playing Favorites, both in lyrics that deal with emotional upheaval – not least the death of Halladay’s abusive father – and in its sound. You hear disco during the breezy All Lined Up and the episodic Mechanical Garden, which slips from tough powerpop to orchestral interlude to intricate funk, complete with blazing guitar solo courtesy of Mdou Moctar . Moonstruck, meanwhile, dramatically diverts from its slide guitar-strafed country rock intro and heads euphorically towards the dancefloor, bearing a freewheeling melody that has a hint of the Jackson 5’s I Want You Back in its DNA.

The alt rock pioneer has earned social media adoration for her trap-infused new song Bye Bye. Now she’s following it up with a ‘realistic’ new record , as well as a collection of her late brother’s writing

The Daft Hunks are two twentysomething YouTube influencers who don’t review music so much as react to it (their most-watched videos see them listening to Olivia Rodrigo and Lana Del Rey in real time). On their latest video they check out the new single from Kim Gordon. “She’s 70 years old and still doing it,” says one of the Hunks. “That’s crazy,” says the other.

They begin playing Gordon’s new single, Bye Bye, its dread-inducing hip-hop beats scraping against each other as Gordon intones a scribbled to-do list. “Buy a suitcase, pants to the cleaner,” Gordon raps threateningly. “Call the vet, call the groomer.”

The Canadian band have weathered shocking attacks, alcoholism, collapsing popularity and being papped with Paris Hilton – so why are they breaking up amid their genre’s resurgence?

For a generation raised by Napster and MTV, the video for Sum 41’s Fat Lip is up there with 9/11 news broadcasts and Sonia Jackson’s surprise baby on EastEnders among the definitive footage of the turn of the millennium. Backing one of the band’s sweetly snotty pop-punk songs, handheld cameras capture teens skateboarding with fireworks; girls get Chelsea haircuts; crust punks taunt the police. Strung together like every early 00s Saturday flashing before your eyes on your deathbed, Fat Lip – still with one of the brightest choruses in punk history – preserves the feel of a subculture gone mainstream.

It was included on 2001 debut album All Killer No Filler, but Sum 41 actually formed back in 1996 in Ajax, a small town just outside Toronto. They were still teenagers when they signed with Island Records, following the same path that catapulted Green Day and Blink-182 out of their local DIY scenes as A&R guys searched for the next poster kids for disaffection; All Killer No Filler’s songs were propagated everywhere from MTV and video game soundtracks to teen dramas and superhero blockbusters. At the band’s commercial height, frontman Deryck Whibley was a paparazzi magnet, dating Paris Hilton then marrying (and later divorcing) Avril Lavigne, prompting relentless tabloid gossip about his personal life.