There is something instantly gripping about The Strawberry Tapes. From the first track, it feels urgent, wired, and unapologetically alive. This is not a debut that eases you in. It throws you into the middle of its world and expects you to keep up. And honestly, that is exactly why Housework make such a strong first impression.
Hailing from Coventry, Housework began as school friends who spent years playing together in different forms before solidifying their final line-up in 2023. That history matters. You can hear the chemistry. There is a tightness to the performances that only comes from musicians who have grown alongside each other. When they returned to writing and recording with renewed focus (and, by their own admission, plenty of pints), the urgency translated directly into sound.
Recorded to tape at 80 Hertz in Manchester, the album feels raw in the best way. The production is punchy and immediate without losing nuance. Duelling guitars slice through each other with sharp precision, while the rhythm section runs relentlessly beneath them. It is tight, but it never feels over-polished. There is a raucous edge that keeps everything unpredictable.
What I find most compelling is the balance between grit and intelligence. The record sits confidently at the intersection of post-punk and art rock. It has bite, but it also has depth. The lyrics take the everyday and twist it slightly off-centre, injecting mundanity with surrealism and dry sarcasm. Yet beneath the wit, there is sincerity. That tension gives the album emotional weight. It does not hide behind irony.
The title itself, The Strawberry Tapes, suggests something sweet and nostalgic, but what you actually get is sharp, sardonic, and often chaotic energy. That contrast feels intentional. The band is clearly aware of the space they occupy, both musically and culturally. They are not trying to reinvent post-punk, but they are pushing at its edges with personality and conviction.
Listening to the album, I kept thinking about velocity. Everything feels in motion. The guitars clash and collide, the drums drive forward without hesitation, and the vocals cut straight through the noise with pointed delivery. It sounds like a band determined to make their mark, not politely introduce themselves.
Now that the album is out, Housework are taking that same energy to stages across the UK, building momentum from their base in the Midlands and London. I can only imagine these songs becoming even more chaotic and visceral live. The record already feels like it was made to be experienced in a packed room.
For a debut, The Strawberry Tapes feels remarkably self-assured. It captures Housework at full velocity, sharp-edged but thoughtful, chaotic but controlled. If this is the foundation they are building from, their next move will be worth watching closely.
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