Opening track ‘The Slammer’ is ubiquitously PWEI, opening proceedings as all their great albums do, by making a lot out of their four initials, before the already released ‘Bruiser‘ and ‘Disco Misfits’, get things started properly, hints of The Prodigy behind the vocal volleys of the frontmen, they’ve lost none on their energy over the intervening years, and these are songs that are gonna sound immense live on their upcoming tour, you can almost picture the middle age mosh-pit bounce now.

And speaking of The Prodigy, there’s a reworking of the 1994’s Music For The Jilted Generation collaboration track ‘Their Law‘, with both acts still love enough to continue to play live, this version hits even harder than the original, with extra lyrics on a song that is sadly still relevant now as it was back in the rave-halting days.

There’s small easter egg reminders of their past in places, for example on ‘Vive Le Rok”s “pretty pretty, hey, pretty pretty” whilst the old-skool rap of ‘Built For Fun’, with its hometown shout outs and the zany nonsense of ‘Play A Fast’Un‘ could have been from their early 90’s classic album Cure For Sanity, but this is no nostalgia venture.

They chill out sonically with the Eastern vibes of ‘Never Mind The Botox‘, but lyrically it’s still as sharp as on anything else on here, but overall, it’s general mood is that of an angry record, but rightly so, there’s a lot to be angry about, the mid-point interlude ‘Mofo Face‘’s chirpy chorus a case in point. (…)

So, yes, Pop Will Eat Itself are still relevant, in fact more so than ever, in this era of bands not getting mad but looking after their careers instead. Hopefully, we won’t have to wait ten years for the next one.

(God Is In The TV)

Nun ist es nicht so, dass der frühere The-Verve-Frontmann in den letzten Jahren zum Shakespeare gereift wäre. Wohl aber hat er sich wieder in einen Pop hineingefuchst, der Erwartungen negiert, Haken schlägt und nicht immer den einfachsten Weg sucht.

Das wird vor allem in der ersten Albumhälfte deutlich: So ist das eröffnende „Lover“ mit seinem Winken Richtung World Pop verwandt mit dem, was Anfang der 1990er-Jahre in Manchester passierte. Die Lust an der Abwechslung findet in den dezenten Americana-Querverweisen von „Out Of These Blues“ und im muskulösen Rock von „Heavy News“ eine gelungene Fortsetzung, bevor „I’m A Rebel“ von Produzenten-Silverager Mirwais Richtung Seventies-Disco und French House geschoben wird – und einen Ashcroft zeigt, der sich der Kopfstimme bedient.

Auch der Titeltrack sucht mit markanten Big Beats den Tanzboden. An anderer Stelle fehlt diese Prägnanz. Dann versinken die Songs wieder in jener Belanglosigkeit, die immer einer der Bestandteile von Ashcrofts Solo-Katalog war. 

(musikexpress)

Vielmehr setzt Dekker auf eine reduzierte Instrumentierung: akustische Gitarren, sparsame Begleitung und gelegentliche sanfte Perkussion-Elemente. In dieser Zurückhaltung liegt seine Stärke. Der Song „Let Me Take You“ etwa zeigt Dekkers Stimme im Mittelpunkt, getragen und ausdrucksvoll, begleitet von leichtem Gitarrenklang und ruhiger Rhythmik.

Dekker gelingt es in diesen Songs immer wieder, das scheinbar Unaussprechliche in Klang zu verwandeln, Momente des Innehaltens, des Zweifelns, des Suchens. Andere Stücke, wie etwa „Change The Chord“, greifen Motive von Veränderung und innerem Konflikt auf, ohne je in  ein Klischee abzurutschen.  In „Not Feeling Up“ etwa klingt eine direkte Verlorenheit an, die man selten so nüchtern vorgetragen hört.

Mit „Neither Up Nor Down“ liefert Dekker ein durch und durch nachdenkliches Werk ab, eins, das nicht laut sein will und sich in den Mittelpunkt drängt, sondern beobachtend, im Raum dazwischen. Wer sich auf diesen Klangraum einlässt, wird reich belohnt: mit Momenten der Einsicht, mit kaum betontem Pathos und mit einer Stimme, die Spuren hinterlässt. 

(Superfly)

There’s so much going on in this album that it feels like it would have been easy for the five-piece to lose sight of the bigger picture, yet for all its abrupt shifts and intricate details, ‘Getting Killed’ somehow doesn’t ever feel like there’s too much at play or like its creators aren’t in complete control. Instead, this is a band living up to their reputation as exhilaratingly free-spirited, not so much proving they deserve all the accolades and fervent fanaticism bubbling around them but demanding it.

(NME)

Whatever it is, Getting Killed rounds up the anxiety, desperation, and existential dread of 2025 and delivers it in a way that no other band alive could. Such an adept distillation of a tumultuous era is rare, and Getting Killed is an equally uncommon instant classic that should prove to be as valuable to its audience as those aforementioned indie-rock cornerstones once were in the late 90s and early 00s. It’s a different beast than those were, sure - but that’s the point. Getting Killed blazes a new kind of trail for a new kind of time. As Cameron Winter sings on the final verse of the towering closer: “I have no idea where I'm going. Here I come.”

(Sputnik Music)

The band sounds at once locked-in and reckless, as if they’ve discovered how to weaponize sloppiness and sprawl into pure momentum, and the result is never anything less than thrilling. “Cobra” lets some tenderness seep in without softening the surrounding pandemonium, while the title track is a swaggering, funk-driven workout featuring a Ukrainian choir sample, pausing just long enough for Winter to confess, “I’m getting killed by a pretty good life/I have been fucking destroyed by the city tonight,” before spiraling back into another delirious freak-out.

Even at their most excessive and baroque—“100 Horses” rides militant repetition into a hypnotic frenzy, with guitars screaming and drums tumbling over themselves—Winter and company keep their wilder instincts grounded. These songs are meticulously constructed, their apparent disorder anchored by an exacting attention to texture, momentum, and tension.

(Slant Magazine)