Art-rockers wage war against conformity Instagram destroys culture
South London art-rock quartet HMLTD is tearing through the musical landscape with their third album, Fangs. This isn’t just a collection of noise and melody; it’s a philosophical wrestling match where German philosophy, biblical sacrifice, and the bizarre sounds of gabber techno collide under a banner they call ÜberGoth.
The album acts as a haunting portrait of modern existence, framed by the gothic imagery of a soul-sucking vampire. But beneath the sonic spectacle lies a much more immediate concern: the perilous dance of social media, the crushing weight of the algorithm, and the blind acquiescence of the modern man. Frontman Henry Spychalski suggests that this digital addiction creates a narrow, joyless existence, prompting a deep inquiry into what true freedom looks like.
Spychalski embodies this intellectual restlessness, channeling a Baudelairean bohemian spirit. Finding inspiration in places like historic French patisseries, he aims to cultivate the life of a flâneur—a deliberate rejection of ordinary constraints. Yet, in the lead-up to Fangs, the band found themselves grappling with the very commitment to an unconventional life that has been their defining characteristic for a decade.
The creation of the album itself was a deliberate act of rebellion against convention. The material for Fangs was scrapped and developed over a year, utilizing £40,000 of their third album advance. Spychalski admitted that the initial recording felt disconnected from the band’s true ethos of experimentation. “We ended up sounding like Neutral Milk Hotel,” he noted, emphasizing a desire to try and fail at something new rather than settling for something already proven.
The track ‘I Used To Ride In Limousines‘ serves as a manifesto. In the context of musical theatre, where characters project their future glories, this song acts as an inverse, exploring the experience of ego death. It is an anthem for those seeking a self-defined success, free from external validation or the need to manipulate their art for an audience. Spychalski argues that attempting to cater to external voices, whether from major labels or social media trends, inevitably leads to alienation and the prostituting of one’s artistic self.
To achieve this sense of liberated chaos, the band took a radical step. During the bulk of the creation process, Spychalski downgraded to a “dumb phone.” They traded studio time for a month spent in the French countryside, amidst a “crumbling, decadent, gothic old house surrounded by vineyards,” where the only directive was to create. It was here, amidst the decadence, that the intellectual foundation for the album took shape, drawing heavily on occult philosophy and figures like Julian Evola.
HMLTD’s music successfully marries the high and the low. They effortlessly weave in references to Wagner and Hegel alongside themes of lust and chaos. This willingness to embrace the contradictory—to be serious and fun, dark and playful—is what sets them apart. Their sound is a dizzying wormhole of references, from the sound of bats to references to Ugandan warlords, demonstrating a willful, wild curiosity that invites listeners to explore new ideas.
Ultimately, HMLTD’s work serves as a powerful counterpoint to the homogenizing forces of contemporary culture. They stand as a testament that true art lies not in conformity, but in the courageous pursuit of originality, failure, and the wild, unpredictable journey of self-discovery.