Forging a deep new sound, this Bristol outfit’s cohesive vehemence and vigour has produced something lithe, fleet-footed and constantly mutating In 1991, Godflesh released Slavestate, a single which added a sample of Humanoid's cyborg techno hit Stakker Humanoid to their austere churncore. Justin Broadrick later noted, "We got some shit from people, but we also accessed a whole new audience". It seems almost inconceivable now that there was a time when fans of leftfield rock were still suspicious of any electronics more complex than a thudding drum machine, and when anyone wishing to broaden the palette would be met with cries of "sell out!" Although conversely, in the wake of Madchester, so many drab indie chancers were grabbing desperately at 808s that flicking swiftly through Melody Maker could leave you with "there's always been a dance element in our music" inkily imprinted onto every finger.
After releasing their debut E.P, Chamber in 2019 and their follow up, Flood in 2021, The bristol-born group have put together a skin-crawling debut album after signing to Fabric's label, Houndstooth. Notorious for their blend of industrial production and absolutely crunched up guitar riffs, the band have applied the spontaneity and enigmatic nature of their live shows onto a record with hypnotics loops and echoes that pull you in, soak you in fuzz and spit you back out. Right from the haunting opener "Blood Club", Scalping sound like some futuristic warning signal in the distance.