We live in a sad world people. Where if you turn the radio on, you’re more than likely to be greeted by a homogenous wall of bland, wet pop.

Everything is so safe and so similar. It is all white noise, as this latest generation embrace a global elevator musak track, which is mostly Coldplay on an unnerving loop.

There is the slightest ray of hope in the shape of a female duo hailing from the South East coast of our fair shores, the Lambrini Girls.

Brighton-based Phoebe Lunny and Lilly Maceira release their debut album, entitled Who Let the Dogs Out, onto an unsuspecting world. And we should all be afraid. Very afraid.

Setting the angry agenda right out of the gate is “Bad Apple”. It’s a gritty grimy world that they audibly paint, as they tackle the issue of police brutality; and as the song points out, it’s not just one bad apple, but a whole rotten tree. It’s a loud indictment of the police service, shouting questions they want answered.

Edgy guitars and foreboding drums create a dark swell over which Lunny spits her lyrics over in “Company Culture”. It’s about how women can be treated as sexual objects in the work place, with Lunny declaring at one point “Michael, I don’t want to suck you off in my lunch break”. That’s telling him. You certainly get the impression that Lunny is certainly passionate about this subject, as she is about everything she sings/barks about.

The diatribe against the opposite of sex continues with “Big Dick Energy”. Everything about the track is angry, spewing venom at every turn. It’s the antidote to toxic masculinity that certainly puts those who partake in it definitely in their place.

“No Homo” is about as playful as these girls get, with a track that’s reminiscent of The Hives ‘Hate to Say I Told You So’, with its grinding, breathless guitar, making a statement about homophobia. And it’s certainly an album full of them.

Giving their take on diet culture with “Nothing Tastes as Good as it Feels”, as they hold up a mirror on society and the expectations made upon young woman to look a certain way.

“IAAM”. It’s an anthem. You can see it used in a Coca Cola ad. Stirring. Powerful. Corporate drivel. “Stood on a sea of pain” sings Chris. A sea of pain, Chris? Really? “Let it rain, let it rain let it rain”. You want it to rain on your painful sea Chris? Okay. “I’ll be back on my feet again”, they’re gonna be kinda soggy though, right Chris? Especially with all that painful rain and all. “’Cause I am a mountain”. A mountain with wet feet Chris? Are you sure about that? What about a little side table instead, just as sturdy but they have feet too. Chris has probably over-caffeinated, bless him.

It must be the future with its electro intro, hard beats, and its sci-fi name – “Aeterna”. It’s Coldplay does Ibiza. And yes, it’s as bad as it sounds. Big fish, little fish, dead fish. Lots of dead fish. Oh and making use of that choir for the outro, classy.

That piano intro can only be one thing, look out, earnest Coldplay on the horizon, alert! “All My Love”. Never has there been a more banal love song ever written. That’s it, add a bed of strings now, just to give it an extra level of thick syrupy goo. Keep your love Chris.

And so to the final track. “One World”. No really. Of course the band are going to finish their album with a track called that. It’s Coldplay after all. Chris sings “It’s only one world” a lot. A lot. It makes you think about the planet we live on. Think about what we’re doing here, wasting our time, listening to Coldplay. It makes you think about what you want for lunch, a baked potato with tuna mayo perhaps? But what it makes you think, more than anything, is when is this trite nonsense ever going to end. “In the end it’s just love” Chris repeats over and over. Don’t forget about the hate Chris. So much hate. Oh listen, a cute little outro of Chris singing “la” over and over. Probably the best thing on the album.

And it’s over. Now that’s something worth thanking God for.

So unfortunately, this tenth album hasn’t changed our mind about Coldplay. And we doubt it will change anyone’s mind. But those converted and worship at the organic temple of Coldplay will heart it.

They have, without doubt, transformed from a classy little band into a global threat to music as we know it. Which you have to admit, is some going.

A topic you wouldn’t expect from a two piece punk outfit is gentrification, but that’s covered here too with “You’re Not from Around Here”. But let’s face it, if any place has seen gentrification it’s Brighton, so they know what they’re talking about it. And as you can probably suspect, they’re not fans of it. It’s another shouty slice of punk that constantly slaps you around the face until you get the point.

Their next target are those born into a position of social comfort, with the track “Filthy Rich Nepo Baby”. The pair don’t mince their words, and it’s gloriously refreshing for it.

They tackle the subject of neurodiversity with “Special Different”. It’s a track that stands out for a slight lull in proceedings, taking their foot briefly off the gas, before just slamming it down and going hell for leather.

“Love” is, as you would expect, not exactly a love song. It’s certainly a little more sophisticated musically, as its not full on from the off. But you just know it’s going for speed once more, which it certainly does.

The album ends in a lesson “Cuntology 101”. It’s a track that isn’t likely to get much radio play, as the word ‘cunt’ appears 32 times. Yes it comes across as a bit of a naughty novelty track, but it is a sublime slice of the outrageous, that you just know will become a festival anthem when they tour, with crowds bellowing back “C-U-N-T, I’m going to do what’s best for me, cunty!”

And breathe.

It’s an album that’s a continual onslaught on your senses, and definitely grinds you down if you listen to it in one sitting. It’s loud, defiantly proud, socially and politically aware and very opinionated.

If you’re looking for a cure to the mediocrity music that currently dulls our senses, take a few swigs of the Lambrini Girls, as they serve political punk with humour and energy that’s difficult to ignore.