Scream Team’s “Modernist Panic!”: A Debut Album That Hits Like a Brick

Brentford’s band, Scream Team, have dropped their debut album Modernist Panic! and, honestly, it’s everything we hoped for and more. Following the runaway success of their debut single, “They Stole My Car,” which somehow hijacked the top of the charts on its release (a real hold-up, if you prefer!), the band has served up a full album that’s as cheeky, sharp, and relentless as their fans have come to expect.

For the uninitiated, Scream Team is what happens when you stick a punk attitude in an indie suit, splash on some absurd humor, and give it a megaphone. Frontman Kevin Lysander leads the charge with his trademark sung-sprechstimme delivery—half-sung, half-spoken, fully sardonic—backed by muscular guitar riffs, driving rhythms, and a steady stream of clever backing vocals.

If Modernist Panic! has a manifesto, it’s scrawled across the tracklist in bold letters. From the sly digs in “Art is Dead” to the post-party vibe of “Paycheck Party,” the band never stops poking fun at the absurdities of modern life. “Failed Revolution (But the T-Shirts Were Cool)” is exactly the kind of ironic commentary we’ve come to love from these lot, while “Youth Is Wasted on the Young” puts a bittersweet cap on the album with its mix of regret and deadpan wit.

And then there’s “Total Football,” which has Kevin Lysander doubling down on his dry humor as he applies football tactics to, well, life itself. It’s ridiculous, relatable, and ridiculously relatable.

The guitars are loud, the wit is sharper than a rusty blade, and the whole album feels like a sprint through the crowded, chaotic streets of their hometown. It’s raw, scrappy, and honest—exactly what you’d want from a band like Scream Team.

Scream Team might be new to the game, but Modernist Panic! shows they’re playing in the big leagues. If “They Stole My Car” was their breakout moment, this album proves they’ve got the chops to keep us hooked for the long haul.

So, grab your headphones, crank up the volume, and prepare for the chaos—Scream Team is here to stay. Modernist Panic! is out now on Head South. Listen loud.

If there’s one band pulling no punches this year, it’s Sheffield’s fiercest export — Mother of Tigers. Today, Head South Records is proud to release the band’s second single, “Mermaids and Shipwrecks”, a blistering, sea-soaked anthem from their debut album The Death of Teenager Dreams.

Built around a mysterious and baroque atmosphere "Mermaids and Shipwrecks" is both a confessional song... and a battle cry. It's all salt-stained lips, dragging tides and tangled nets — a love song for the beautifully doomed.

“It’s about being stuck in a fantasy someone else built for you,” Michaela Ward-Chambers (lead singer) explains. “You’re seduced by it at first, but soon you realise you’re just trying not to drown. And maybe, deep down, part of you wants to.” She pauses, then laughs. “Weirdly, that made it easier to write.”

The nautical metaphors flow deep. "There is seawater flowing in my veins / And I keep myself anchored in your chains" — it’s not just heartbreak, it’s a shipwreck. The tension between seduction and self-destruction plays out like a storm at sea. “There’s power in telling the story of your own wreck,” Michaela adds with a smile. “Even if you’re still dragging the anchor.”

Guitarist Freya Thomas describes it as “the most ‘us’ song on the record so far. It’s got that blend of classic rock drama and something darker, something slinkier.”

If the song feels cinematic, the music video takes it even further. Directed by Juliette Ashmoir, it drops the band in the middle of a dark, gothic seascape — a creaking ship lost in a midnight storm, surrounded by crashing waves and spectral light.

Drenched in rain, wrapped in tattered velvet and dripping eyeliner, the girls play their instruments as lightning forks overhead and wind howls through the sails. There are ghostly mermaids, sea foam shadows, and one unforgettable shot of Michaela singing from the ship’s prow, wind tearing through her hair....mascara running like warpaint.

“We nearly froze to death,” laughs Derya Çetín (drums). “But it looks absolutely stunning. We love the redult".

"Mermaids and Shipwrecks" follows the band’s debut single "Debutante" and it's available now on every platforms.


Dive in.

Listen here

Edited by user 13 May 2025 15:53:22(UTC)  | Reason: Not specified

“This album has origins, but no borders, no nationality”, said Hana Rahman in a recent interview.

And she means it. "Once Upon a Time in Brum" is made from the fabrics of her life — not entirely biographical, but absolutely rooted in her experience as a young British-Indonesian woman navigating the complicated, brilliant, messy reality of modern Britain.

For those who only know Hana Rahman as “that girl who made the controversial track about dying in Birmingham” — welcome to the bigger picture. Once Upon a Time in Brum isn’t here to play it safe or small. It’s sprawling and specific, autobiographical but half-dreamed, intimate yet meant for speakers that rattle walls. Sure, there are roots — Indonesian, Brummie, soundsystem deep — but no neat borders. This is the long way ‘round Rookery Road: past corner shops, block parties, family dinners, late-night bus rides. Rahman’s debut doesn’t chase easy identity or tidy genre boxes. Instead, she leans into the glorious mess — the louder, layered, cross-cultural mix that actually feels like real life.

A Brummie Odyssey in 16 Tracks

The record opens with “Prelude: Welcome to Brumtown”, a jazz-rap sax-laced intro that sets the tone for what’s to come: not just a tour of Hana’s Birmingham, but a re-imagining of it. "Mama Wore Gold at the Airport” follows, a fantasised, wide-eyed arrival in Britain, as in a Bollywood movie. It’s hopeful, shiny, and knowingly exaggerated.

But "Once upon a Time..." is not a fairy tale. The struggle is real in "BrickWallz", where Rahman explores the pain of alienation in a system not made for you. "No Right Name" is quietly devastating, confronting the microaggressions of mispronounced names and the weight of accents that don’t “fit in.” Elsewhere, "Asian Cutie" one of the album’s most striking moments, a subversive slice of electro-hip hop swagger, laced with vintage Indonesian melodies. dismantling the fetishization of Asian women with sharp lyrical precision and a grin in her voice.



Rahman first made her name behind the decks, spinning eclectic sets that swerved between Asian funk, ska, and vintage dub. That sensibility thrives on Once Upon a Time in Brum. This isn’t a singer-songwriter record or a DJ project—it’s both. And neither. Think clattering hip-hop beats colliding with jungle rhythms, Sri Lankan folk looping under electroclash synths, and R&B vocals dancing over samples from Bollywood golden age cinema.

“This Is the Sound of Brumtown”

Yes, this is a Birmingham record — "Steel City Dub", "Brum Ting", and "Bouncing Rookery Road" are perfect echos of the city— but it’s also a global one. In "RAHMANISTAN F.M", the spiritual centre of the album, Rahman dreams up a swirling, Afrobeat-splashed vision of a borderless state built on rhythm and mixity, where no one is too “foreign” or “other” to belong. It’s positively chaotic, it’s warm, and it’s everything the country could be if we listened to our DJs more than our politicians.

There are moments of tenderness, too. "Famili" is a warm reminder that family ties — sometimes messy and complicated — are the real backbone of identity. The interlude "Dinner at 6.30pm" plays like you're sat in Hana’s kitchen, samosa in hand, Mum arguing in the background, reggae dub humming under the surface. Her stories are specific—but they echo across generations of migrant families. Elsewhere, On “Bakulan Grocery Markt”, Hana paints the small-world intimacy of a family-run Indonesian grocery shop in Birmingham : sambal, neon lights, and price tags in two languages. Sounds like home.

Then there’s “Jalan-Jalan” (Bahasa for “wandering” or "walk! walk!"), the next official single, and certainly the most rock infused track... too relatable for any woman who’s ever had to expérience street harassment.

The closing track, a cover of "Must Catch a Train" from British ska legends Symarip, might catch you off guard. After all the chaos and critique, it’s tender, even romantic. It suggests that maybe—just maybe—love and joy could be one answer to the politics of integration. And maybe it’s just a nod to the small, ordinary joys that help people survive in cities that barely make space for them.

So yes, Once Upon a Time in Brum might be messy. It might be unclassifiable. But it’s also something much rarer: honest. And in a climate of cynical posturing and pre-chewed pop rebellion, Hana Rahman’s uncompromising debut is the realest thing you’ll hear this year.

And if you’re still trying to figure out where Hana Rahman fits? Don’t bother. She’s already left the station. Catch up, or get left behind.

"Once Upon a Time in Brum" is out now on Head South Records. New single “Jalan-Jalan” drops later this Summer.

Edited by user 26 July 2025 22:08:43(UTC)  | Reason: Not specified