Seattle’s Bread and Butter return with Psycho World, a fuzz-drenched, riff-heavy joyride that dives headfirst into the neon-lit chaos of modern life. Their latest effort expands on the power-pop punch of their debut, embracing a rawer, more unhinged energy that flirts with garage rock, proto-punk, and classic rock swagger.
From the opening track, Psycho World establishes itself as a high-octane experience. Guitars snarl and crash like waves against a concrete pier, while the rhythm section stomps forward with the reckless abandon of a muscle car peeling out at midnight. The melodies remain sharp and infectious, but there’s a newfound urgency in the band’s delivery—like Cheap Trick if they were raised on a steady diet of Dead Boys and The Stooges.
Lyrically, Psycho World captures the strange tension of modern existence—digital overload, political exhaustion, and the desperate search for something real in an increasingly artificial world. Tracks like Electric Panic and Media Overload serve up sharp-witted commentary wrapped in punchy hooks and distorted guitar licks that feel as chaotic as the themes they explore. Neon Vice, a standout on the album, rides a glam-rock groove into the night, all swagger and sweat-soaked attitude.
Bread and Butter have never been a band to overcomplicate things, and Psycho World thrives on that philosophy. This is rock and roll at its most immediate—loud, loose, and built for the stage. While the album still carries their signature sense of fun, there’s a darker edge lurking beneath the surface, giving the record a bite that lingers long after the last note fades.
For fans of vintage power pop, garage grit, and anthemic hooks, Psycho World is a wild ride worth taking. Strap in, turn it up, and let the chaos unfold. – Jason Felton