The Snuts - Burn The Empire (LP)

Burn The Empire landed on 30 September 2022, and you can hear The Snuts stepping out with a sharper set of teeth. The West Lothian lads were already stadium-ready after W.L. hit number one in the UK, but this second record tightens the screws. It is lean, loud and politically barbed, with Jack Cochrane spitting lines that feel built for sweaty halls and muddy fields. If W.L. was the euphoric coming-of-age, this is the morning after, eyes clear and jaw set.

The title track kicks the door in with a chant-ready hook and a thump that feels closer to a terrace singalong than polite indie. It is not subtle, and that is the point. The Snuts have always had a knack for a chorus you can holler from the back, but here they turn that instinct toward power and frustration. You can hear it in the wiry guitar lines from Joe McGillveray and the bulldozing rhythm section of Callum Wilson and Jordan Mackay. The whole thing moves with purpose, like they have somewhere to be and a lot to say on the way.

Zuckerpunch might be the cleverest sledge on the record. The clue is in the title. Cochrane takes aim at the sugar rush of social media and the hangover it leaves behind, and the band back him with a buzzing riff that jitters like a pocket vibrating at 2 am. It is fun and bitter at the same time, which is a sweet spot for this group. Then there is The Rodeo, a raucous crowd-pleaser that feels built for a Friday night at the Barrowlands. It swings hard, kicks harder, and will have pint glasses in the air by the second chorus.

The album’s smartest move comes with End Of The Road, a duet with London singer Rachel Chinouriri. Her voice brings a soft glow that cuts through the grit, and the chemistry is real. You get the sense the band knew they needed light to balance the shade. Across the tracklist they try new textures without losing their knack for big indie hooks. There is a little more bite in the guitars, a touch more urgency in the drums, and Cochrane’s vocal sits right up front, every syllable crisp and loaded.

Critics clocked the shift. NME and other UK outlets praised the band’s sharpened political edge and the confidence of the writing, and fans sent it up the charts. The record cracked the top tier of the UK Albums Chart and topped the Scottish tally, which felt like a well-earned lap of honour for a band that grafted from tiny clubs to festival main stages. It also cemented them as more than a one-album story. They could have chased another cosy singalong set. Instead, they got louder and clearer.

Spin it on a good setup and Burn The Empire vinyl jumps out of the speakers. The guitars have that bright, modern crunch, the low end warms the room, and those chanty choruses bloom nicely. If you are crate digging for The Snuts vinyl, this one sits right beside W.L. with pride. I’ve seen copies move fast at my local Melbourne record store, and it is the sort of album you recommend to a mate who likes their indie with sweat on it. If you prefer to skip the queue and buy The Snuts records online, keep an eye on reputable shops that specialise in vinyl records Australia, since local stock pops in and out. Collectors who like complete runs of The Snuts albums on vinyl will want this era represented, because it marks a shift from youthful euphoria to something tougher and more outspoken.

What sells it is intent. You can hear four musicians who know their strengths and push them a little harder, who swap vague platitudes for pointed lines about the world outside the venue doors. It still sounds massive. It still goes down a treat with a crowd. But the commentary sticks. Burn The Empire is not a sermon, though. It is a rally. Loud guitars, big hooks, a few bruises, and a heart very much in the right place.