There’s something gloriously unruly about ‘Mohawk’, the new single from Def Nettle, a track that kicks the door off its hinges and dares you not to move. From the first twitch of guitar to the final, knowing smirk in its closing moments, this is a band operating at full voltage, gleefully tearing into both punk mythology and their own place within it.
Sonically, ‘Mohawk’ is a masterclass in tension and release. The guitars slash with wiry precision, nodding toward the stark urgency of Joy Division while shimmering with the brooding elegance of The Cure. Def Nettle treat those influences like raw material; bending them into something muscular, groove-heavy, and defiantly present-tense. The bassline struts with danceable confidence, while the drums snap and stomp with an almost physical force, conjuring images of sweat-slicked club floors and packed-out late-night sets.
At the heart of it all is the electric interplay between Glen Brady and Lisa Doyle-Taaffe. Their vocal chemistry crackles, with Brady’s sly, half-spoken delivery colliding with Doyle-Taaffe’s razor-edged flow, creating a dynamic that feels theatrical without tipping into parody. Together, they dissect the commodification of counterculture, all while cheekily acknowledging their own complicity in mining nostalgia’s glow. It’s sharp, self-aware writing that rewards repeat listens, peppered with lyrical Easter eggs referencing the alt canon of The Smiths and beyond.
Instrumentally, the track pulses with intent. Guest guitarist Dissenter Melody injects bursts of serrated riff-work that feel both celebratory and confrontational. The rhythm section of Damien Fox and Ely Siegel locks into a groove that’s taut yet fluid; something punk in spirit but undeniably funky in execution. The result is a soundscape that feels equally at home in a gritty New York loft or a euphoric Manchester warehouse.
If this is the band’s next chapter, it’s a thrilling one: bold, rhythm-driven, and utterly unafraid to question the very subcultures that shaped them. ‘Mohawk’ grabs history by the collar, laughs in its face, and then sets the dancefloor on fire.