Minnesota needs a new wrecking crew. Enter Slut Intent, the most evocative hardcore punk band.
Sometimes, old school principles ought to be recycled. Observe Slut Intent even momentarily and convictions on ‘nazi punks’ will be shared. Observe debut album Slutworld from top to tail and you will be smacked in the face by just how eerily-timed it is. Slut Intent are from Minneapolis, a beautiful cultural hub currently overrun by ICE at its most horrendous, chronicled by several recent news stories of citizens murdered in cold blood by supposed enforcers of law. We know the stories, we’ve seen the footage, and Slut Wrench is, as a result, uncomfortable timely – “steer to the left, steer to the right / I don’t care if this takes me all night / here’s your license to kill / I think you’re gonna get your fill”. Again, those old school principles ought to be recycled; the nazi “punks” never went away; they just wear official uniform now.
Another old school punk principle resurfaces on Slutworld, that being its brevity. In its eighteen minutes, Slut Intent’s debut album spreads wings that supersede its small frame. The album was written and self-produced by five women with inestimable, and deeply justified, anger cemented by guitar pileups like rage upon rage. These pileups are imagistic, surveying the destruction of society (and the habitat that houses it), and the retaliation. The group’s two guitarists – Kailyn Grider and Elena Bittner – swarm with feedback-heavy atmospheres on Slut Internet, rising through the air, rising against the time-honoured bond of billionaires and blood money. They work in unison with drummer Cara Hagstrom-Skalnek on Mr. Chariot, shifting rhythms like different chapters in the fightback against lawless cops. Immense hardcore noise, recorded live but so noisy one would be forgiven for assuming much is overdubbed, is confirmed as singer Katy Kelly flings her lungs, on Glitch, at the “fucking cowards” who occupy land simply to destroy it; oppressing the people, poisoning the air, whilst masking their faces. Bassist Astrid Pulse plays the Dee Dee Ramone role to liaise with the immediacy of songs like Acrylics, itself a lampoon against rapists and those who come to their rescue.
The riffs are exceptional. Peppa Pig mixes diatonic and chromatic progressions of power chords before adopting weird, super-electrified, communicative lead lines like antennas on our heads, transmitting distress signals of a system, or person, not being there when needed – they’d happily watch you die. The fight song chord progression of Bonkers Even is as crazy as its name suggests, and as harshly earwormy as your favourite pit-opener, only this one contains important quips on controlling one’s own body, and the lawmaker’s inability to listen to those their laws affect – “your debate’s a monologue as if I have no voice”. The descending chords of the aforementioned Slut Wrench feel like hands being raised, and the quick limbs of Girls Night confirm the insurrection on the streets.
Slut Intent aren’t reinventing any punk wheels on Slutworld, nor do they need to be. Who needs innovation when you’ve got believability, gutturally-explosive guitars, and unashamed wrath working in your favour? The album will no doubt go down as one of the essential punk albums of 2026; emotional, evocative, sick of your shit.
Best tracks – Mr. Chariot – Glitch – Slut Wrench.
Rating – 8 out of 10
