Viagra Boys have delivered a groovy, swaggering, utterly unhinged record that stakes their claim as a band committed to chaos, but executing it with sleek precision. The bass struts, the drums clatter, and guitars chunk along like they’re holding down a disco in a dive bar. Saxophones honk, handclaps crack, synths bubble - it’s maximalist and ridiculous like Electric Six or LCD Soundsystem, with a rapid-fire stream of fever-dream imagery. Psychotic pop culture references, social paranoia, and nonsense with just enough clarity to hit home.

Uno II manages to say something profound while barely saying anything at all. A weirdly elegant and hypnotic flute line acts in place of a sung chorus, while Sebastian Murphy delivers a self-deprecating monologue that both mocks and questions the whole idea of being a frontman, shrugging off his own importance. It’s funny and strangely endearing hearing a rock star undermining the myth of the rock star while still throwing the party, and that tension is key to what makes this band work: they play the role to excess while making it obvious they know it’s ridiculous. And while there’s humour and theatricality, it’s not parody in the way The Darkness or Steel Panther might be. They’re lampooning the concept of the rock star itself and the absurdity of the swagger, all while embracing it with both arms. It’s music that knows its own ridiculousness and finds liberation in it, inviting you to dance, laugh, and revel in the chaos. Murphy absolutely channels the same instinct as Mick Jagger, both inhabiting and mocking the role he’s playing, understanding that the stage is a place of heightened reality, and that sometimes you have to become a caricature to say something true. In 2025, the idea of a swaggering, untouchable frontman feels absurd, but that doesn’t mean we don’t still need a show. Viagra Boys deliver it with full awareness, and the result is the sound of a band that knows the game, knows the joke, and plays the hell out of both.