You need to listen to the new Mandy, Indiana record: URGH

Often, I focus on recommending older media that isn’t currently getting a ton of attention. But this week, I can’t stop listening to the new Mandy, Indiana album long enough to even think about anything else. It’s early still, obviously, but URGH is my favorite release of 2026 so far. The band that I fell in love with on I’ve Seen a Way has found an entirely new gear.

Frontwoman Valentine Caulfield is even more uncompromising. Most of the lyrics are in French, but even if you don’t know what she’s saying, you can feel the contempt. On “Magazine” she’s spitting in your face as she seethes:

Where on earlier songs she would strut or rant, on URGH she rages. The wordless fury of the album title is captured in the threatening hiss of her delivery, which culminates in the full-throated English-language roar of “I’ll Ask Her,” which closes with her repeatedly shouting:

The instrumentation feels like it’s being blasted directly into your face through a bullhorn. Drummer Alex Macdougall has sharpened the edges of his approach. URGH finds him locking into grooves so tight they could strangle; LCD Soundsystem dance-punk abandon meets the ferocity of Coralie Fargeat’s Revenge. On I’ve Seen a Way the synths and guitar were dissonant, resolutely uncomfortable. On URGH, they’re corrosive, as if being in the room while it was being recorded was physically painful. But it’s also somehow catchier.

What makes the album so impressive is that the band has compromised on nothing, made their sound more confrontational, and yet unlocked something that turns these blasts of noise and fury into genuinely infectious songs. I can’t get tracks like “Magazine,” “Try Saying,” “Life Hex,” and “Cursive” out of my head. I find myself unconsciously moving to the avalanche grooves even when the record isn’t on.

URGH is everything that made Mandy, Indiana great, but more. The heavy bits are heavier. The noisy parts are noisier. The catchy parts are catchier. And the groovy parts are groovier. They’re at the forefront of a growing cadre of bands that take inspiration from ‘80s no wave, ‘90s industrial, and ‘00s dance punk to create something righteous, political, and foreboding, but also incredibly danceable.