Iran Iran return with Dog Tramadol, a dense and disorienting new EP from the Bristol-based experimental math rock outfit. The band dive deeper into the murky waters of off-kilter riffage and finely tuned chaos, emerging with something that feels heavier, darker, and more structurally warped than their previous work.
Opening track “The Terrorist Days of the Week” sets the tone with monolithic, doom-laced guitar work—a lurching intro that feints toward familiarity before snapping into the band’s trademark labyrinthine grooves. Steve Nutt’s guitar tone is razor-sharp yet cavernous, twisting tightly with Lee Everson’s hulking bass lines. There’s an uneasy beauty in their interplay, a kind of calculated collapse that rides the edge between precision and volatility.
While doom elements loom large throughout, it’s the band’s willingness to derail expectations that truly makes Dog Tramadol compelling. The title track exemplifies this tension—leaning hard into sludge before veering into manic, complex passages that feel both urgent and meticulous. The technical proficiency is relentless but never gratuitous; every gear shift serves the greater momentum. Liam Smith’s drumming remains a force—authoritative, explosive, and key to grounding the EP’s sprawling structures.
A highlight arrives in the recorded version of “Re-tracked crack Panic Attack,” a personal live favourite now fully realised in studio form. It’s a warped, muscular track—packed with unpredictable turns and moments of strange elegance. Its centrepiece bassline evokes a touch of Primus, weaving through a climactic buildup that borders on hallucinatory. Guitars swell and fracture as the track lurches toward a frenzy, each transition more audacious than the last.
Final track “Shinzo Abe Lego Gun” released earlier as a single, acts as both a mission statement and a curtain call. It encapsulates Iran Iran’s refusal to sit still. There are flashes of influence from Poly-Math and Ni but Iran Iran have carved out a space all of their own.
Dog Tramadol is not an easy listen, but that’s part of its appeal. It’s a confrontational, exhilarating, and strangely introspective trip—math rock for those who like their edges jagged and their rhythms unrelenting. Let it in, and it’ll rattle around in your head for weeks.