Viagra Boys Cave World

Cave World, the searing third album by post-punk renegades Viagra Boys, is essentially a manifesto on stupidity. On top of that, the Swedish five-piece also takes a dig at toxic masculinity and how it emboldens bad behavior—all while poking some fun at themselves. If it came from a more serious-minded group, its message could take a more ideologically charged view that borders on preachy. Coming from Viagra Boys, one could expect the sort of depraved hijinks they've consistently dabbled with since their 2018 debut LP Street Worms.

Right from the outset, the band reveals some of their darkest songwriting on album opener Baby Criminal, in which they tell the story of an innocent child who's turning into a domestic terrorist in the making. Frontman Sebastian Murphy uses the United States as a template to base his biting humor, acknowledging that the insanity that prevails in that country seems more unhinged than most. It's hard not to agree with him. He reinforces that idea in more general terms on Troglodyte, making a strong case for apes having more intellect than tinfoil-wearing extremists spewing out nonsense.

Murphy pounds this message throughout Cave World with steadfast insistence, which might seem somewhat irritating but is most likely the point. This is where the humor comes in to provide some levity, like on Punk Rock Loser, in which the band aptly uses a warped bluesy stomp riff as a backdrop to describe a creepy deadbeat filled with misguided confidence: “I don't seem insane/But I fuckin' am and I'm rocking a little gold chain.” Murphy puts on one of his most visceral performances on Creepy Crawlies, swooning and growling about the mass anti-vaccine hysteria over menacing psychedelia: “With tiny little legs that creep around your body/collecting information.” His way of personifying vaccines is preposterously irrational, yet, sadly, not too far from something your indoctrinated conserative uncle would say.

What's more brazen about Cave World, outside of their commitment to acting as misinformation-touting satirists, is how the band take a more sonically adventurous route. Rather than spicing their punk-driven sound with skronky sax, the band taps into flute-flecked electro-punk (Troglodyte), frenetic German techno fit for the Run Lola Run soundtrack (Ain't No Thief), and minimal new wave (ADD). Nowhere is their desire to shake things up more palpable than on Big Boy, which begins with swamp-tinged delta blues before morphing into an acid house beat—with no other than Sleaford Mods’ Jason Williamson to bring home their message about those who boast like man-children.

Just when you think Viagra Boys have exhausted their ideas, outside of the surprisingly confessional ADD, Murphy and his cohorts crank up the energy one last time on Return of the Monke. The aural equivalent of a sudden whiplash, the hard-charging cut ventures into pop-minded territory with a deliberate chant (“Leave society/be a monkey”) that perfectly compliments its noisy guitars. The band has fully de-evolved, urging for a primal response that, more than its sneering metaphors, never feels gratuitously nihilistic. Theirs is the messy, imperfect plea we could use right about now.