15 Egg Punk Releases You MUST Check Out

Perth, often called the most isolated major city in the world, also happens to have one of the most unexpectedly vibrant punk scenes you can imagine. For some reason, I always connect it in my head with another remote outpost of noise, Yakutsk, which also boasts a killer DIY scene. That’s a story for another time, and maybe one for DIY Conspiracy to dig into. So Ghoulies are a four-piece out of this city, I mean Perth. As I mentioned in the intro, I’m going to give each egg punk offshoot its own name. This one? Let’s call it ghoulie-style carnival egg punk.

Formed in 2020, Ghoulies have already cranked out a pile of releases. Shafted By The Algorithm is their fifth, not counting two must-hear splits with Pleasants and Aborted Tortoise. What they do is blisteringly fast, synth-driven egg punk with a dash of hardcore bite—at least that’s what hit me when I caught them live earlier this year. Their songs shove you onto a rickety carnival carousel loaded with ghoulies, spinning you into a sweaty blur until you can’t tell if you’re laughing or screaming. And you’re not willing to get off.

That live show? January at Komet (Hamburg): a tiny, garage-punk dive with a low-ceilinged cellar that maybe fits seventy people if you pack them in like sardines. No presale, door tickets only. Great bands roll through there all the time. Poison Ruïn played a few years back, and the place filled up in minutes. That night Ghoulies played with their pals (and partial alter-egos) Pleasants. It was the kind of show that sets your year on fire before it’s even begun.

Ghoulies, once they show up, you’ll never get rid of them. And honestly? I hope they never leave. This was the best start to a year that’s already shaping up to be a weird one.

And the second one from my side isn’t a typical egg punk release—but I already consider it one of the best of the year, at least within this genre. Steroïd is a project where egg punk meets epic metal, so I guess we’re calling it dungeon epic egg metal.

If you haven’t heard anything from Steroïd yet, you’ve definitely been missing out. It’s a one-man band that formed in Tasmania in 2022. The only thing I knew about Tasmania growing up was the Tasmanian Devil from cartoons. Maybe it’s intentional. To come from such a remote place and create this kind of wild music; or maybe it’s just part of the egg punk image. Who knows? The band is now based in Sydney, by the way. And if their Bandcamp page is to be believed, they’ve pretty much dropped a warzone into the city with this new release.

Chainmail Commandos is Steroïd’s third release, and I’d say it’s their best yet—even though I really loved the previous ones too. It’s a rollercoaster you want to ride again and again… and I’m not even a fan of rollercoasters, haha.

Crypt of the Wizard is the perfect label for this release. They’ve put out tons of great modern adventure metal and psychedelic rock releases. After their recent Gloomy Reflections release, Steroïd has taken the label to a whole new level, at least for me.

I’ve been following Sex Mex for a while now, ever since I heard the song “Goodwill” about two years ago. That counts as some time, right? Sex Mex is a one-man band from San Antonio, Texas, though it also becomes a full band for live shows (correct me if I’m wrong). I should give this a special subgenre tag. Let’s see… I think I’d call it garage sexy Texan love egg punk.

Imagine if The Spits and Zero Boys got together after bingeing on Devo and a weekend of video games, then started writing sharp, synth-tinged garage egg punk driven by a drum machine. That’s somewhere in the ballpark of what Sex Mex sounds like. Or maybe it’s just one guy piecing it all together at home while egg punk was having one of its biggest years in 2022. Either way, it hits.

It’s hard to keep track of how many releases there have been (though you can just check the Bandcamp), but Repackaged II is the fourth full-length by my count, plus a bunch of EPs and singles since the project started in 2022. That’s a solid output, but pretty typical for egg punk where quantity often fuels momentum.

Repackaged II is a fast, punchy garage punk ride: 12 tracks, all hits. The sound is surprisingly clean for the genre: tight production, crisp mix, and a fuzzy guitar tone that wraps everything in a warm, gritty layer without sounding blown out. The drum machine grooves lock in with synths and sharp vocals, giving each song a compact, catchy energy. If you’re into wired, synth-spiked punk with a playful edge and no dead weight, this one’s worth your time.

So we’ve had ghoulie-style carnival egg punk, dungeon epic egg metal, garage sexy Texan love egg punk—and now what? Of course: dungeon witcher rock’n’roll egg punk, straight from the basement of the legendary Blitz squat in Oslo. Yes, I’m talking about Molbo.

By the way, I had the chance to visit Blitz back in 2014. I really need to dig up who played that night, but I definitely fell in love with the place. I still clearly remember some already-drunk punks starting to barricade the doors after the show because someone spread a rumor that a group of Neo-Nazis from Germany were lurking nearby and might try to mess with Blitz. Absolute legends. But that’s a whole story on its own, ask me about it in person sometime.

Anyway, back to Molbo. A four-piece band playing their own brand of weird, energetic egg punk. Imagine a witch sabbath rave in the most Scandinavian basement possible, with brain-melting slushies, cursed aquavit cocktails, and Molbo blasting at full volume in the background. That’s the vibe.

I was torn about which of their recent releases to review. I first picked up the Mol-Bot EP (also great), but ended up circling back to their self-titled LP from earlier this year. It collects material from previous EPs and singles but also includes new tracks, making it more than just a retrospective—it feels like a full-fledged album. Shoutout to Erste Theke Tonträger out of Mannheim for putting this one out. Massive respect to that label for supporting bands like this.

Molbo already have five releases out, and I seriously hope they don’t stop anytime soon. The LP is wild and cohesive in its own way, like a chaotic concept record built out of synth punk scraps, dungeon riffs, and post-apocalyptic dance floor energy. Think Coneheads trying to summon the undead at a noise show, or Lost Sounds if they were raised on horror movies, Østfold folklore, and broken drums.

I also caught them live this year at Izero Hardcore Fest. I missed a few bands (as usual), but made damn sure I didn’t miss Molbo. They were touring with another killer Oslo band, AG-3, and played alongside two ridiculously good Polish-Belarussian locals—shoutout to User and Pisuar. Cheers to all of you.

Let’s go on. Let’s keep it weird. Do I have to say this? I guess I should stop.

PAL is a four-piece skronk egg punk band out of Cleveland, Ohio (yes, I also had to look up what skronk punk is—don’t judge me if you already knew). If you’re too lazy to check, here’s the boiled-down version I’ve gathered in the last 10 minutes: skronk punk is noisy, chaotic, jazz-damaged experimental punk. Now, drop that into the weird gelatinous universe of egg punk and you’re somewhere in PAL territory. That’s the best I can do to explain it.

I knew PAL from their earlier stuff already, but I have to say: this one really landed in my home-office-and-running playlist rotation this year.

Under Your Radar is their fifth release since the band started in 2023 (I might be wrong on the year, don’t sue me). As I mentioned, I’d already heard some of their older material—Pals, their debut, and their split with Frizbee (who are also on my list, btw).

It’s weird. It’s quirky. It’s super lively. It forces you to imagine yourself dancing a dance so ridiculous, so oddly specific, that you can’t actually picture it—but also, somehow, you totally can. You get what I mean?

’Cause honestly, I don’t.

So, I already mentioned Frizbee in my last blurb, and now it’s time to go deeper, I guess. I first heard them on their split with PAL back in 2023, and I was genuinely excited to see they dropped their first full-format release this year.

In previous blurbs, I’ve tried to characterize bands with some of my dumb personal associations, so let’s keep the tradition alive: Frizbee is flying through the field of raw, noisy, rock’n’rolling egg punk like.. well, a frisbee. And they’re doing it pretty damn well. So I guess it’s rock’n’rolling frisbee egg punk—as easy as that.

Listening gave me strong flashbacks to already-legends like Uranium Club and R.M.F.C., so if you’re into that wiry, twitchy, mutating strain of punk that sounds like it’s being transmitted through a broken satellite dish, there’s a lot here for your ears to chew on.

Sour Kisses is their second release and their first proper full-length—nine tracks that spin and swerve like a frisbee in mid-air: sometimes fast, sometimes slow, always unpredictable. (As possibly the worst frisbee player alive, I can personally vouch for the accuracy of this metaphor.) This release, by the way, came out on Painters Tapes out of Detroit, a label with a number of great garage and egg punk releases.

Not sure if this counts as egg punk, but that’s what I’m calling it. More specifically: grumpy-guy spoken-word egg punk. Vsevolod Plotkin, a Dublin three-piece with a drum machine and a name pulled from a Soviet/Russian filmmaker known for making bottom-shelf bangers (Red Mob, for example, imagine a spaghetti western Rambo-style flick made in the just-collapsed USSR, where the wild eastern ’90s are kicking off and anything feels possible), deliver a debut EP that’s sharp, funny, and bleak in all the right ways.

But back to the band and their release. Middle Ireland is a concept EP about the nothing-special, everything-heavy life in so-called “Middle Ireland”—a normal life “consisting of normal things happening to normal people.” These songs drag you through a grim parade of Irish small-town experiences in the 2000s: your dad gets laid off in 2008 and starts flogging dodgy calf nuts on the sly; your cousin comes back from Australia, newly sober, and hangs himself in a shed a few months later.

Middle Ireland is commuting five hours a day to sit mute at the lunch table, ignoring your coworkers, quietly panicking about whether you can afford organic eggs. Middle Ireland is being unable to talk to your wife or kids about anything except your job. Middle Ireland is behind us, maybe—but it never really left. It haunts us. It shapes what we do, what we say, how we think.

This EP captures that psychic hangover with dry humor, spoken-word narration, and clattering DIY beats. It’s a bleak little gem. Call it what you want, I’m calling it egg punk for the haunted wage class.

I couldn’t not mention Blitzer here. Let’s call it zirkus carousel egg punk played in a cow field.

Blitzer is a three-piece band that first caught my attention mostly because a friend of some of my friends plays in it—Inessa. I’ve been a huge fan of her previous project, Jesus Sister, which started in St. Petersburg and moved to Tbilisi after Russia launched its full-scale invasion of Ukraine (free Ukraine, by the way). That band’s still going strong, now with a new vocalist—also a really great person. Keep an eye on them.

But yeah, Blitzer. They’re based in Leipzig now, which I’d confidently call the egg punk capital of Germany. Dumb-EP is their fourth release since the band formed in 2023. Wait a minute—all the bands I’m writing about seem to have started around the same time. Hm, interesting.

Their Dumb-EP sounds like a carnival ride gone slightly off track: dancy rhythms, cowbell, scrappy garage guitar, and a live drummer who actually swings. It’s got all the ingredients, and then some. You just want to pick your weird drink of choice and disappear into it for twelve minutes.

There’s a manic charm to it, like a spinning carousel set up in a muddy field with no permit and too many clowns. I don’t like clowns that much, maybe a few, but I’d definitely hang out with these guys. They’ve already built something wild and compelling, and I really hope they keep pushing forward—I want more of this lovely chaos.

You remember the series The IT Crowd, right? That was the first thing that popped into my head when I hit play on the third EP from sprgrs out of Granada. Sprgrs is a two-piece operating somewhere between intellectual IT banter and lo-fi egg punk weirdness. Let’s call it intellectual IT lo-fi egg punk.

According to their Bandcamp, they kicked off in 2022, and since then have dropped three EPs plus a killer split with Möney. EP3 is the latest. As I’ve mentioned, sprgrs play unapologetically lo-fi; but for those of us who instinctively click anything with “lo-fi” in the description, that’s nothing but a green light.

If I’ve got it right, each sprgrs release runs on its own thematic current. Judging by the consistent, self-styled cover art, I’m guessing this one’s about education—though my very questionable Spanish only gets me so far.

I’ve enjoyed everything they’ve put out so far, and I’m already impatient for more.

I’m still not sure what the hell happened to Electric Prawns 1, but it’s probably worth asking the band about that; or maybe you folks can answer it in the comments? Anyway, since I’ve been trying to slap a subgenre tag on every band I cover, let’s do it here too: Electric Prawns 2 are surfing some kind of sunny-beach, electric-brain-damaging egg punk. The guitar fuzz comes in waves, shaking your skull until you feel like a cooked crustacean flopping on hot sand, surrounded by other weird, funny, totally fried prawns.

They’re from Moffat Beach, Australia—the spot where egg punk has really gone haywire these past few years, fueling that whole global hype cycle we’re still caught in. I first clocked the band this past winter after seeing them pop up on Billiam’s “Best of 2024” list, which was basically an egg punk treasure map. Definitely check that list if you haven’t—it’s worth it, assuming you’re still reading this stream-of-consciousness ramble.

Heavy Shitters is, believe it or not, their 20th release if you count every single, EP, and full-length on their Bandcamp since 2022. That’s King Gizzard levels of productivity—but unlike the Gizzards, Electric Prawns 2 have carved out their own fried little corner of the egg punk world.

Musically, this one leans more mid-tempo overall, though there are still a few sprint-to-the-finish burners tucked inside. Hooks are everywhere, buried under buzzing fuzz like my very first guitar pedal that I should probably dig out again. The vocals often veer raw and shredded, giving the whole record a live-wire immediacy—it feels more alive for its imperfections, which is exactly the point.

The tape came out on Knuckles On Stun Records, who’ve been quietly dropping one killer underground cassette after another. They’ve tagged me on almost every release they put out, no clue why, but it worked, because now I actually listen, and it turns out they’re curating some real gems.

At the end of the day, Heavy Shitters is a perfect release by dancing electric prawns, for dancing electric prawns. Here’s hoping one day I get to see them frying up the beach in person.

Teo Wise, originally from Acquafredda, Italy and now based in Leipzig—remember, the German egg punk capital—throws down a record that makes you wonder: is this really egg punk? At first I wasn’t sure if I should count it, but yeah, it totally belongs. Let’s call it spaghetti western egg punk. The first song makes that clear: cue it up and you’re riding into some dusty, neon-colored frontier.

Teo Wise kicked things off back in 2018 with the Col Cane EP, and Fermo O Sparo! is the latest, dropping in April 2025 on Turbo Discos, the label that’s basically a safehouse for all the weirdo garage and egg punk misfits. Perfect fit. Most of the songs are in Italian, which gives them this irresistible texture. The spaghetti western tag isn’t just a gimmick either: the record is structured like a movie, with an intro, instrumental breaks, and a narrative flow that carries across the whole thing. Listening feels like watching a brand-new western—shot on VHS, soundtracked by a punk band.

I don’t understand a single word, but that doesn’t matter. “Non Importa,” right? That track alone nails the vibe of the whole record: carefree, cinematic, cool without trying. To get the full picture, watch some of Teo Wise’s videos; suddenly you’re in this Italian dream, lived out in East Germany. It makes me want to chill, to dance, to run to the Italian coast and throw myself on the rocks in a cowboy hat, like daily life’s bullshit never even existed.

I almost caught him live in Hamburg a year or two ago but missed it—still kicking myself. Hopefully soon I’ll get to fulfill that small dream.

This release? Totally recommended. Blast it in good weather for maximum glow… or even better, during gray days when you need something to cut through the fog. I couldn’t stop listening when it dropped, and now it’s September and I still can’t.

This one’s technically from last year, but it deserves a revisit—because I keep coming back to it. ABSCAM out of Los Angeles are dealing in angry, raw, noisy, alien-coded egg punk, the kind that sounds beamed in from some busted transmitter on the outer rim.

Their debut self-titled tape hit me strangely at first. My initial listen left me unsure—equal parts fascinated and confused. But that’s the thing: it’s weird in a way that sticks. The more I played it, the more it pulled me back in, until it became one of those records you find yourself putting on over and over, like scratching an itch you didn’t realize you had.

Every track barely scrapes a minute, most even shorter, and that brevity becomes the hook. Each song flashes past like an alien spacecraft dropping in, blasting out a glimpse of the real party, then vanishing back into the void before you can grab hold. You’re left wanting more, stranded on Earth with the rest of the uninitiated. But I get it. I’m on board. Beam me up, ABSCAM.

Released jointly by Archfiend Records in LA and the ever-restless Noise Merchant in the UK, the tape feels like a document of controlled chaos—raw punk energy hacked into shape with jagged keys and collapsing beats. It’s ugly, ecstatic, and a little unhinged, which is exactly what makes it necessary listening.

I decided to include some splits in this roundup because, honestly, you can’t talk about egg punk right now without mentioning certain bands. And luckily for me, two of those bands—both of whom dropped killer releases this and last year—joined forces on this 7-inch. Think of it as a mutant Elvis clone behind the wheel of a VW Beetle, flooring it down the German autobahn, dreaming about the golden age of egg punk.

The record’s short—just four tracks, two from each side—but it feels like a fully fleshed-out release. The sequencing works perfectly: Autobahns come crashing in with their raw, wiry, rock’n’roll-infused weird-punk chaos, while Elvis II double down with blown-out Aussie swagger, fuzzed-out riffs, and hooks buried in static. The pairing makes sense—different approaches, same manic wavelength—and together they generate that impulsive, twitchy energy that makes you want to move. Call it “sending special impulses to the legs.” At least to mine.

And these aren’t just filler tracks for a quick split. All four are straight bangers. They hit hard and vanish quick, leaving you with that “flip it back over and start again” urge. It’s punk as shortwave transmission: one moment you’re told to free your thoughts on a bad day, the next you’re locked out but still hearing the pulse of true rock’n’roll through the static.

Released by Goodbye Boozy Records out of Teramo, Italy—a label that’s basically become a sanctuary for the strangest, most vital egg and garage punk in the last decade—this split is yet another reminder why they’re so essential. And yes, that makes two Goodbye Boozy entries on this list already. No surprise there.

Ok, let’s start here. Billiam, Melbourne’s hyper-productive weirdo, and Busted Head Racket teamed up to deliver what might be one of the wildest records mentioned in this piece—and maybe even in the whole short history of egg punk (though I might be overstating things). Can I call it a split? Technically, yes—but not in the usual sense. Both musicians wrote, recorded, and sang on all the tracks. It’s less a split and more a full-blown collaboration, and a pretty lovely one at that.

If I had to tag it, I’d call it panic-attack egg punk. But it’s not the kind of panic attack that shuts you down—it’s the kind that hijacks your body, makes you twitch, and forces you to dance like you’ve got a brain slug clamped on your skull. Let’s stick with that: brain-slug panic-attack egg punk.

Kidnapped ! swings between blisteringly fast bursts and mid-tempo crushers, the kind of pacing where your imaginary brain slug is just winding you up for the next jolt of damage. It’s the fun kind of brain damage, though—don’t worry too much. Six songs, all packed into the one-to-two-minute range, with the perfect opener “Have a Panic Attack With BBHR” setting the tone right away.

The record came out on Goodbye Boozy Records (who I already praised in the last review), and once again! Huge props to the label for dropping something this chaotic, unhinged, and essential.

The Oidz are a brand-new four-piece out of Leeds, already radiating the kind of manic energy you don’t stumble across often. Their sound? Ritalin-fueled intergalactic egg punk. Originally intended as a short-term project—just a few quick jams and then done—inspired by the likes of Gee Tee, Jay Reatard, and Uranium Club, they ended up sticking around (as these things often go).

The EP is wildly energetic, like a cassette on its last legs—but in the best possible way. It’s chaotic, fast, and irresistibly fun. I love it for its warped texture; maybe not totally unique in the grand scheme of egg punk, but it hits differently. Someone compared them to The Fall or Siouxsie and the Banshees on high speed, and that feels really weird but kinda about right. Honestly, I kind of want to crank the whole EP even faster—maybe I will. Four tracks, all hovering around the two-minute mark, and I’m already hungry for more.

This came out on Prison Records, a brand-new Barcelona label. Any connection to Prison Affair? No idea, but I’d love to know.

Scrambled Eggstras (aka Honorable Mentions)

I want to mention a few more new, or relatively new, releases that I feel deserve a shoutout. They popped into my head only after I had already written everything else down.

Kostenfalle – Demo

Kostenfalle is a duo from Hamburg, hammering out a wild fusion of electronic egg punk. It’s basically synths and bass guitar with Powerplant-esque vocals, and their demo rips—chaotic, catchy, and sharp-edged. As good as it sounds on tape, they’re even more feral live.

Apéro – Cold Drinks, Cool Snacks

Apéro is a trio bridging Hamburg and Sénas. Cold Drinks, Cool Snacks is their debut, and it’s an impressive first step into egg punk territory. The members are scattered across bands like Briefbombe, Loser Youth, Confetti Malaise, and Kapot (to name a few), and you can hear that collective punk DNA coming through. Their first show went down in Sénas, Provence, and they’re hitting a few German gigs right about now—expect a jagged but refreshing spin on the genre.

Beta Máximo – Último asalto

Beta Máximo is a one-person project out of Andalucía, and the recent release Último asalto hits with both forward momentum and a streak of melancholy. It blends dreamy, post-punk atmospherics with egg punk’s nervous twitch, making for a release that pulls you in from the very first track and doesn’t let go.