In the psychic wastelands of the 21st century, one particular sonic force looms large. Transcendental like the malignant force that fuels the zombie movies of lore, Part Chimp have made it their business to shake speaker-stacks, fry brains and induce jouissance and tinnitus alike across the UK.

The band's live show is everything that makes Part Chimp the most intimidating primate fit to lay waste to Bath. It is a fearsome testimony to a band with a skewed melodic skill to match their mighty potency. Echoes of their forebears - the ornery prehistoric lurch of Melvins and the droogy ur-clang of Sonic Youth among them - can be distantly discerned, yet they’re now drowned out by an individual assault as pulverising as invigorating, nihilistic yet life-affirming. This band will demolish your house, but you’ll cheerfully thank them for it afterwards.

The bands joy at playing live comes through the panic and chaos of always being on the verge of a sonic calamity. Mostly due to their decrepit equipment, never writing set lists, drunkenness and under-rehearsing. People are used to some degree of professionalism when they see a band. There’s a lot of ‘confidence’ in music these days which can leave audiences cold. Part Chimp have always represented the shambolic element of performance.We love it when peoples gear fucks up, strings break, amps fritzing. It brings out the reckless abandon in a performance, which is precisely what we will get from Part Chimp in 2024.