Born in mid-2010s Stockholm, Viagra Boys established themselves in a handful of records as one of the most biting voices in contemporary post-punk. Led by the charismatic and unpredictable Sebastian Murphy, they have made derision their weapon: that of an age saturated with conspiracy, toxic masculinity and digital credulity. Cave World, their third album, radicalises this work of demolition with a chilling lucidity.
The critics, largely won over (an 82 average across ten reviews), hail the intelligence of a record that manages to make one laugh at the collapse. Beneath its drunken-party exterior, Cave World paints the portrait of a modern caveman, regressive and paranoid, an avatar of a present in which reason is retreating. The press praises the verve of the writing as much as the precision of the execution.
Musically, the band refine a detonating cocktail: rubbery post-punk basslines, demented saxophone, electronic sallies and near-danceable grooves. The dry, nervous production leaves full room for Murphy’s ragged voice, by turns hallucinated preacher and disenchanted buffoon. It is a perfectly organised chaos.
One might object that this accumulation of grotesque vignettes eventually spins in the void, and that the laughter, in the end, masks a certain emotional emptiness. The record favours the charge over introspection, and the listener in search of flesh and blood will at times be left wanting.
Verdict: 8/10. A ferocious, funny and profoundly despairing record confirming Viagra Boys as major satirists of a modernity adrift.
