Saint Agnes - Bloodsuckers (LP) - Red Vinyl

Saint Agnes have always thrived on theatre and threat, but Bloodsuckers sharpens the fangs. The London outfit’s second full-length, released in 2023 as the follow-up to Welcome to Silvertown, feels like a line in the sand. The grime and spaghetti-western swagger of their early days is still in the bloodstream, yet everything here hits harder, meaner, more combustible. Kitty Austen spits every line like she is carving out space with her teeth, and the band meets her with riffs that grind and a rhythm section that stomps.

The title track is the invitation and the warning. Bloodsuckers lunges in with a serrated guitar tone and a chant that begs to be yelled back from the pit. The production keeps Kitty’s vocal right on the lip of distortion, so her phrasing cuts through even when the guitars swarm. It is not pretty, which is exactly the point. There is a blunt, cathartic pulse to the way the song builds, drops, then charges again. It is the kind of opener that tells you to turn the volume clockwise and quit worrying about your neighbours.

What makes the record stick is how it manages tension. Saint Agnes aren’t content to just flog one tempo for forty minutes. They work in sudden breaths and shivers, those small pauses before the kick returns, which makes the climaxes land with extra weight. When the guitars splinter into noise, a hook will often slide in on the next bar. When the drums start throwing elbows, a melody will snake around them. You can hear a band that has done the miles on stage, tightening bolts until the songs change gears like a well-loved ute.

Lyrically, Bloodsuckers is heavy with revolt and survival. Austen’s delivery carries a fighting spirit that feels personal, not postured, and that intensity turns even the more hooky choruses into something with teeth. There is anger here, but there is also clarity. Lines about bad actors and power games sit beside rallying cries that sound like they were written after long nights and longer tours, when your throat burns and your heart is still full. It is that mix of grit and resolve that gives the album its shape.

The guitars deserve their own nod. They move from chainsaw chug to feedback-smeared squeal without losing body. Solos are kept on a tight leash, more about texture than showboating. Bass and drums keep it brick-solid and punchy, with plenty of headroom so the kick thumps without swallowing the rest. The mix leans dry and immediate rather than roomy and reverbed. That close-up feel suits these songs, which want to be right in your face, not drifting off in a haze.

If you already have Saint Agnes vinyl on your shelf, this one sits next to the debut like a blood brother, same family, different temperament. If you are new and wondering why people hunt for Bloodsuckers vinyl, it is because this thing is built for loud grooves. The quiet-to-loud swings read beautifully on a turntable, the guitars gain a bit of extra hair, and Austen’s voice rides the wax with a rough shine that digital sometimes tidies away. The artwork also pops in full size, which never hurts if you like your sleeves bold and a bit menacing.

There is plenty of talk about where Saint Agnes fit, but Bloodsuckers sounds most alive when you stop measuring and let it take the room. You get the thrill of punk energy, the grime of alt rock, the bite of something heavier, all without losing the hooky core that gets people moving. It is easy to picture a packed room howling the chorus to the title track with pints lifted, then falling quiet as a verse creeps in, then exploding again when the drums return. That communal push and pull is baked into the writing.

If you are crate-digging or looking to buy Saint Agnes records online, this is the one that will likely win a new fan in your household. Saint Agnes albums on vinyl tend to vanish from bins fast, so if you spot a copy at your local Melbourne record store, do not overthink it. The record also sits nicely alongside other grit-forward vinyl records Australia listeners love, the ones you throw on when you need the room to feel a bit bigger, a bit louder, a bit less polite. Bloodsuckers is not here to make friends. It is here to remind you that rock can still bruise and still heal in the same breath.