Leicester’s self-proclaimed “aristocrats of punk” return with “BEAST,” a piano-driven slow burn that proves snarl and sensitivity aren’t mutually exclusive. As the eighth track unveiled from their forthcoming album Chaos (out 14 March 2026), the single offers a darker, more introspective detour — but without sanding down the serrated edges that define the band. “BEAST” opens in an unexpectedly restrained space. A melodic, almost reflective piano line lays the groundwork, giving the impression of confession rather than confrontation. There’s vulnerability in the air — regret, lost intimacy, the quiet wreckage left behind when love collides with ego. For a moment, 9 O’Clock Nasty let the listener lean in.
Then the drums crash the party. What begins as introspection mutates into something more volatile. The acid seeps in — not just sonically, but emotionally. The guitars coil tighter, the rhythm section grows teeth, and the track reminds you that even a song about lost love can bare its fangs. This isn’t heartbreak as soft-focus nostalgia; it’s heartbreak as self-reckoning. The damage isn’t abstract. It’s owned.
There’s a psychedelic undercurrent running through the track that sets it apart from the band’s more overtly bristling beat-anthems. The atmosphere feels slightly surreal, as if the song is unfolding in the afterglow of a long night out — when bravado fades and uncomfortable truths creep in. Yet the band’s trademark bite remains intact. The tension between beauty and abrasion is where “BEAST” thrives. the song leans into the uncomfortable idea that sometimes we are the architects of our own romantic collapse. It’s not just about lost love; it’s about the “ugly selves” we drag into relationships while trying — and often failing — to be better. That self-awareness gives the track weight. It broods. And when it ends, it leaves a silence that feels intentional, almost cinematic. If Chaos promises a collection of sharp, beat-driven anthems, “BEAST” suggests the album will also explore the cracks beneath the swagger. It’s a reminder that punk doesn’t have to shout to feel dangerous. Sometimes it just has to stare at itself in the mirror — and not look away. Leave your coat. Walk into the night. 9 O’Clock Nasty are already there.
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