Cartoon Darkness: The Sunny Nihilism of Amyl & The Sniffer’s 3rd Album

Amyl and the Sniffers are the band-du-jour. If you haven’t heard of them yet, get ready, they’re taking over the scrappy underground of Melbourne’s pub-rock scene worldwide with their third release, Cartoon Darkness. Packing 13 songs into a 33-minute run-time, it’s a pocket-rocket of an album: furiously explosive. 

Upon first hearing Amyl and the Sniffers (far more recently than I’d like to admit), my immediate thought was of the outlawed punk-rockers of early 2000s teen flicks – think ‘Löded Diaper’ from Diary of a Wimpy Kid or Avril Lavigne, in contrast with Hannah Montana. Whilst not the most highbrow of comparisons, I mean that as the utmost compliment; they’ve immortalized the spirit of teenage rebellion and boxed it into an LP.  Cartoon Darkness is truly alive, truly present: aware of the void of that is the modern future, but not depressed by it. This playful energy is a breath of fresh air, amongst the overthought, must-change-the-world mentality that plagues alternative musicians of the adult world.

Cartoon Darkness, a title taken from the lyrics of ‘Doing In Me Head’, epitomises the sunny nihilism of its name. The album is a myriad of social commentary, from gender politics, to the tyranny of social media. A track list that could quickly get depressing, were it not for the band’s relentless positivity and humour. In an interview with hometown publication Triple J, frontwoman Amy Taylor concedes that yes, ‘the world is boring and we’re gonna die’ but she doesn’t want to mourn prematurely, and rather live it up whilst we’re here. If it is a frog-in-a-pot situation, she’s suggesting a pool party. It’s this mindset that gives way to the gleeful, pedal-to-the-metal sound that characterizes the band. Their writing process is exactly what you’d expect. Guitarist Declan Mehrtens affirms that a large section of the record was written on impulse, as ‘The more you have to play a song, the more stale and less excitement is in it’. Whilst he admits that sometimes this method produces ‘dog-shit’, you can hear that life and movement in their work. Giddy Up (2016), the band’s first LP was written and released in a 12-hour whirlwind, and whilst the band have matured since – taking a careful 24 hours to produce this album– their new release is certainly not stagnant.

The record opens with the provocative threesome (minds out of the gutter, please), of ‘Jerkin’, ‘Chewing Gum’ and ‘Tiny Bikini’. Whilst I’m not one to be shy – albeit gutter humour– the opening lyrics of the album are so crude I’m reluctant to transcribe them in print. The Sniffers, if you will, are great, producing a classic rock sound reminiscent of Aussie ancestors AC/DC. What really differentiates the band however, are Taylor’s vocals, cutting through the catchy guitar riffs, all guns blazing. The centre of the album mellows into softer tracks ‘Big Dreams’ and ‘Bailing On Me’ (still peppered, of course, with the high-voltage, supercharged likes of ‘Pigs’ and ‘It’s Mine’). In comparison to the full assault of their two previous albums, Comfort To Me (2021) and Amyl and the Sniffers (2019), this slower feel is a new sonic venture for the band, bringing a depth and maturity that I hope to see more of in their future. Still, my top pick is the classic Sniffers tune, ‘U Should Not Be Doing That’, which embodies the spirit of the album, packed with irony, independence, and a healthy dose of vulgarity. It’s a stellar track. 

My qualm with Cartoon Darkness, however, is that it should have stopped there. The record’s final trio is by no means bad, but in my opinion, doesn’t add anything to the album, and it becomes a bit samey at this point. Scathing musical criticism aside, the album composition is great – a vivid, established personal sound with some fun new twists – a concoction that’s put them on top of everyone’s ‘ones to watch’ lists for 2025.

In an age filled with men like Donald Trump, we need more women like Amy Taylor. I hate to fall into the trap of beelining to focus on a female artist’s appearance, but it can’t be ignored – she is SO cool. Rocking a peroxide-blonde Farah Fawcett cut and the booty shorts of ‘Tiny Bikini’, she is truly the star of the show. “Holy mother of god, this is a true rock star” said Billy Corgan of The Smashing Pumpkins, upon first seeing her onstage. Watching her perform, what comes – or rather races- to mind is Gwen Stefani in ‘No Doubt’, circa Tragic Kingdom (1995).  Whilst there’s an obvious visual resemblance, I think what triggers this association is the gutsy feminism of ‘Just A Girl’, the anger and passion of which reverberates through Taylor’s writing. Her lyrics and tone are a mocking bark, as she shrieks ‘the losers are online and they are obsessed’ in the face of the easily aggravated but essentially empty-mouthed ‘losers’. In interviews she is down-to-earth and genuine; when asked about the influence of literature on her music she just laughs and says ‘I love books’. But this doesn’t at all detract from her intelligence and self-assuredness, rather, she wants to avoid the holier-than-thou mindset, and make the band’s overt political rioting accessible, rather than intimidating. ‘I don’t want them to feel ashamed’ she tells The Guardian, ‘the security guard might live on a farm in Kentucky and shoot animals and eat them – he might not know about, like, identity politics’. Their relentless political focus isn’t lost in the cacophony of Cartoon Darkness, and their experience going into their 3rd album draws a focused perspective onto these, more specific, niches.

With a stint as BBC Radio 6’s ‘Artist in Residence’, and a feature on NME’s top 50 albums of 2024, Amyl and the Sniffers are -literally- everywhere with their new release, and about to embark on a 2025 world tour. They’re starting at home down under, so if you missed them in the UK this autumn you’ll have to wait until mid-July to see them supporting Fontaines D.C. at Finsbury park – in which time they’ll likely have released another 3 albums and topped the charts – it only takes them a day. 

Words by Madeline Royle-Toone