From the moment The Grand Scheme of Things opens, it’s evident that Sugar Horse are operating on a different plane. Here, Sugar Horse aim to redefine themselves and destroy any expectations by delivering a statement that’s sharper and more ambitious than anything in their repertoire, a daring leap forward for a band already known for their bone-crushing ferocity.
Central to this evolution are frontman Ashley Tubb’s vocals, which take on an unexpected fragility that hovers above the instrumental chaos. His voice, brimming with raw vulnerability, channels an uncharacteristic tenderness for a group celebrated for their noise and brutality. This is most pronounced on “The Shape of ASMR to come” a piece where shoegaze textures intertwine with choir-like harmonies. Written as a tribute to his late father, whose death coincided with the start of recording, the entire record is steeped in a haunting, spectral presence. Ambient creaks and decaying soundscapes paint vivid pictures of grief—wrenching, intimate, and painfully human.
If The Grand Scheme of Things is Sugar Horse’s heaviest emotional offering, it’s also their most musically accomplished. Each track feels like a deliberate, monumental statement, turning the album into a sprawling journey that lingers long after its final, resounding chord. The melancholic swell of “Corpsing” blends brooding vocals with dreamlike, Cure-esque atmospherics, while the brutal “Mulletproof” unleashes guttural growls that rise like demons from hell. Navigating these shifts in tone with masterful precision, Sugar Horse construct a labyrinthine world of sound.
“Spit Beach” is an unrelenting onslaught, veering between moments of unsettling tranquillity and full-throttle devastation, dripping with aggression and sludge-drenched malice. Meanwhile, “New Dead Elvis” flips the script, delivering anthemic energy that somehow balances accessibility with a fierce undercurrent of discordance. It’s this interplay of beauty and brutality that defines The Grand Scheme of Things, making it such a compelling listen.
Recorded almost entirely live in the dilapidated husk of All Hallows Hall—a decaying church in Bristol—the band captures a chilling atmosphere, as if the building itself is etched into the music’s DNA. The place’s history seeps through every note like damp through crumbling stone, imbuing the album with an eerie presence that underscores its themes of loss and decay. Close your eyes, and you can almost feel the chill of the empty pews, the flicker of failing lightbulbs overhead—a crumbling sanctuary that mirrors the haunted soul-baring within.
On tracks like “Jefferson Aeroplane Over the Sea” with its surreal, dreamlike drift, and the frenetic chaos of “Office Job Simulator” Sugar Horse embody their duality—effortlessly shifting between celestial serenity and explosive chaos. Then there’s “Space Tourist” the 24-minute colossus that closes the album. It morphs from delicate, slow-building passages into towering walls of distortion, and then fades into 20 minutes of droning, sustained noise—a daring exclamation point that forces you to sit in its unsettling aftermath.
With The Grand Scheme of Things, Sugar Horse aren’t just hitting harder; they’re leaving a permanent scar. It’s their most ambitious and emotionally resonant work to date, cementing their place as one of the UK’s most daring heavy acts. This isn’t just a new chapter—it’s a defining moment. Ignore it at your own risk.