Psychedelic Porn Crumpets songs hit differently once you’ve spent real time with them — one minute you’re headbanging to a fuzzed-out riff, the next you’re floating through a three-minute string arrangement that sounds like it wandered in from a completely different band. That’s the whole appeal of this Perth outfit, and honestly, ranking their catalog down to twenty tracks felt like an act of controlled violence against my own Spotify library.
Formed out of Jack McEwan’s bedroom recording project back in 2014, Psychedelic Porn Crumpets grew into one of the most inventive bands to come out of Western Australia’s psych scene, a scene that’s already given the world Tame Impala and Pond. What sets the Crumpets apart is their refusal to sit still stylistically. Across seven studio albums, they’ve dragged prog-rock complexity, garage-punk aggression, and unexpected orchestral flourishes into the same sonic universe, and somehow it all still sounds like one band. Below is my rundown of the twenty songs that best capture that chaotic, endlessly rewarding catalog, in roughly chronological order so you can hear the evolution as it happened.
Found God in a Tomato
The closing epic of High Visceral, Pt. 1 (2016), “Found God in a Tomato” runs nearly nine minutes and never once feels bloated, which is a genuine production achievement for a debut album recorded in a converted barn. McEwan’s vocals drift in and out of a hazy mix that trades hooks for atmosphere, letting the guitar interplay between McEwan and Luke Parish do the emotional heavy lifting instead. It’s the kind of track that rewards a proper headphone listen — the panning tricks and slow-burn buildup get lost on tinny laptop speakers, so if you’re serious about hearing every layer, it’s worth checking a resource like GlobalMusicVibe’s headphone comparison guide before you dive in. On a purely personal level, this is the song that made me understand why fans call this band’s early work “visceral” — it’s uncomfortable, sprawling, and completely magnetic.
Cubensis Lenses
If “Found God in a Tomato” is the album’s slow burn, “Cubensis Lenses” is its beating heart. The echoed, almost underwater treatment on McEwan’s vocals gives the whole track a hallucinatory quality that genuinely earns the word psychedelic, rather than just borrowing the aesthetic. Michael Jelinek’s mixing work shines here, threading swirling guitar textures around a rhythm section that never lets the song drift too far from its groove. Live, this one apparently turns into a full-blown crowd singalong, which says a lot about how melodic the band can be underneath all that fuzz.
Cornflake
“Cornflake” opens High Visceral, Pt. 1 with a bass riff so heavy it borders on Pink Floyd worship, immediately signaling that this isn’t going to be a gentle, incense-and-tapestries kind of psych record. The production is raw in the best way, capturing a young band figuring out how loud they could push their guitars without losing melodic clarity. There’s an urgency to the arrangement, verses that snap into choruses with real momentum, that still makes this a go-to set-opener for the band nearly a decade later. It’s blunt, riff-forward songwriting, and it works precisely because it doesn’t overthink itself.
Denmark / Van Gogh & Gone
Closing out High Visceral, Pt. 1, “Denmark / Van Gogh & Gone” is a slow-building, seven-and-a-half-minute meditation that trades the record’s earlier aggression for something closer to catharsis. The arrangement swells patiently, layering guitar textures until the track detonates into an explosive, genuinely cathartic climax in its back half. It’s a masterclass in dynamic songwriting, the kind of arc that separates bands who understand tension from bands who just play loud. This is one I’d genuinely recommend queuing up during a long drive; the payoff in the final two minutes hits harder with distance and open road.
Surf’s Up
Don’t let the breezy title fool you — “Surf’s Up” is a tightly wound, riff-driven cut that still manages to sound sun-bleached despite its heavier moments. The guitar interplay is dense without becoming cluttered, and there’s a real sense of forward motion in how the verses coil into the chorus. Fans on Album of the Year and similar review boards have consistently rated it among the strongest cuts on High Visceral, Pt. 1, and I’d agree; it’s compact, memorable, and shows the band’s knack for hiding surprisingly sturdy pop structures inside noisy arrangements.
Marmalade March
“Marmalade March” leans into the band’s prog instincts, shifting time signatures and tempos with a confidence that’s honestly impressive for a first album. The vocal melody is stickier than the arrangement’s complexity might suggest, which is the trick this band pulls off again and again — burying genuine pop hooks inside knotty instrumental passages. It’s a fan-favorite deep cut, the kind of track that separates casual listeners from people who’ve actually sat with the full record.
Hymn for a Droid
Jumping ahead to 2019’s And Now for the Whatchamacallit, “Hymn for a Droid” is a fan favorite for good reason: it’s melodic, propulsive, and features some of McEwan’s most confident vocal phrasing on the record. Released via Marathon Artists, the album leaned into krautrock-inspired drumming patterns, and drummer Danny Caddy’s steady, motorik pulse on this track is a big part of why it grooves as hard as it does. The chorus is genuinely anthemic, a rarity for a band this comfortable in noisier textures, and it’s become a reliable set highlight on tour.
November
Closing High Visceral, Pt. 2 (2017), “November” pulls back from the record’s heavier moments and brings in cello work from Jon Tooby, giving the track an unexpected orchestral warmth. It’s a patient, atmospheric closer that shows the band was already interested in expanding their sonic palette beyond guitar-bass-drums this early in their career. The strings don’t feel like a gimmick either; they’re woven into the arrangement with real intention, adding weight to the song’s slower, more reflective passages.
Dependant on Mary
Also from High Visceral, Pt. 2, “Dependant on Mary” is a moodier, more restrained cut that lets the rhythm section breathe. There’s a tension in the arrangement between the driving bassline and the more contemplative guitar work layered on top, and that push-and-pull is what makes it stick. Deep in the tracklist as it is, this one rewards patient listeners who make it through the full record rather than just streaming the singles.
Gurzle
“Gurzle” opens High Visceral, Pt. 2 with a jolt of energy, all tightly wound riffs and rapid tempo shifts that announce this is a sequel with its own identity, not just a retread of Part One. It’s a showcase for the band’s chemistry as a unit, with McEwan, Parish, and Caddy trading rhythmic accents at a pace that demands tight musicianship. If you’re building out a broader listening session, this is exactly the kind of high-energy opener you’d want to pair with other tracks from GlobalMusicVibe’s songs archive for a proper psych-rock playlist.
Tally-Ho
The lead single from 2021’s Shyga! The Sunlight Mound, “Tally-Ho” marked a clear pivot toward 1960s pop melody without sacrificing the band’s bulldozing tempos. Triple J gave it an early spin as part of the album rollout, and it’s easy to hear why — the chorus is one of the most immediate the band had written to that point. This is where McEwan’s growing interest in melodic songwriting really starts to reshape the band’s sound, setting up everything that follows on the record.
Mr. Prism
Released as a standalone 2020 single ahead of Shyga!, “Mr. Prism” is relentless from its opening seconds, full of chaotic builds and irresistible rhythms that wind through a genuinely wild second half. McEwan has described writing it during a rough stretch of illness after a European tour, and there’s a frantic, feverish energy baked into the arrangement that backs that story up. Backed by Marathon Artists and picked up by Triple J, BBC Radio 1, and Rolling Stone Australia, it became one of the clearest signals that the band’s fourth album was going to be something special.
Pukebox
“Pukebox,” from Shyga! The Sunlight Mound, leans into grimier garage-rock territory, its title alone giving you a sense of the track’s unpolished, gleefully chaotic energy. The mix keeps things intentionally rough around the edges, letting the rhythm section drive while the guitars snarl overtop. It’s a fun contrast to the more melodic moments elsewhere on the record and proof the band hadn’t fully abandoned their scrappier instincts.
Lava Lamp Pisco
The lead single from 2022’s Night Gnomes, “Lava Lamp Pisco” is built around explosive, almost Black Sabbath-like riffs that immediately set expectations for a heavier record. There are darker atmospherics threaded through the arrangement too, distinguishing it from the band’s more headbanging moments and giving it real staying power beyond the initial adrenaline rush. McEwan wrote the record during Western Australia’s pandemic lockdowns, and you can hear some of that isolation seep into the track’s more brooding stretches even as the riffs stay aggressive.
Dread & Butter
Also from Night Gnomes, “Dread & Butter” strips things back into acoustic-based territory, marking one of the band’s more accomplished sonic shifts to date. It grapples with genuinely existential themes, McEwan has said, and the more measured, sentimental production matches that emotional register. Hearing this one sit right alongside the heavier “Lava Lamp Pisco” on the same tracklist says everything about how far this band is willing to stretch within a single record.
Bubblegum Infinity
McEwan has called “Bubblegum Infinity” the “cute little playful member” of the Night Gnomes family, and that description undersells how genuinely euphoric the chorus is. There’s a melodic sweetness in the vocal performance that draws comparisons to bands like DMA’S, a real departure from the band’s earlier, more abrasive material. It’s cheerful without being shallow, McEwan has said the title is meant to capture a kind of lighthearted vulnerability, and that emotional honesty comes through clearly in the finished track.
Bill’s Mandolin
Opening And Now for the Whatchamacallit, “Bill’s Mandolin” has become something of a fan-favorite touchstone; one Discogs reviewer even noted their toddler had it on repeat for months, which is about as strong an endorsement of a hook as you can get. The riff is instantly memorable, propulsive without being aggressive, and it sets a confident tone for the rest of the record. Whether you’re catching it live or on a solid pair of earbuds during a commute, the guitar tone here is bright enough to cut through pretty much any listening environment.
Social Candy
“Social Candy” served as the first taste of And Now for the Whatchamacallit, released as a single ahead of the full album and showcasing a tighter, more radio-friendly version of the band’s sound. The hooks are sharper here than on earlier records, without sacrificing the guitar interplay that defines the band’s identity. It’s a good entry point for newcomers who want the Crumpets’ energy without diving straight into an eight-minute psych odyssey.
Mundungus
A deep cut from Shyga! The Sunlight Mound, “Mundungus” leans into the record’s krautrock-adjacent rhythmic backbone, with Danny Caddy’s drumming locking into a hypnotic, repetitive pulse that anchors the whole arrangement. It’s less immediately catchy than some of the album’s singles, but it rewards repeat listens, especially once you start picking out the layered guitar textures competing underneath McEwan’s vocals. Tracks like this are a good reminder that this band’s album cuts are often just as strong as their lead singles.
Dilemma Us From Evil
The lead single from 2023’s Fronzoli, “Dilemma Us From Evil” is a sonic freight train of a track, surging forward on an unrelenting beat with McEwan’s vocals riding right on top of the chaos. Released via What Reality? Records ahead of the album’s November 2023 drop, it signaled a return to the band’s rawer, more garage-leaning instincts after the more melodic detours of Shyga! and Night Gnomes. There’s a live-wire energy to the recording, and hearing the band perform it live in studio only reinforces how much of their power comes from pure chemistry between McEwan, Parish, Young, and Caddy as a unit.
Frequently Asked Questions
Who is the lead singer of Psychedelic Porn Crumpets?
Jack McEwan is the band’s founder, lead vocalist, and primary guitarist. The project started as his solo bedroom recording endeavor before evolving into a full band based in Perth, Australia.
What genre is Psychedelic Porn Crumpets?
The band is generally classified as psychedelic rock, blending psych-pop melodies, prog-rock structures, and heavier garage-rock riffs. Their sound has shifted across albums, moving from the raw, riff-heavy High Visceral era toward the more melodic, 1960s pop-influenced songwriting of Shyga! The Sunlight Mound.
What is Psychedelic Porn Crumpets’ most popular song?
“Found God in a Tomato” and “Hymn For A Droid” are consistently among the band’s most-streamed tracks, with “Found God in a Tomato” in particular racking up well over ten million Spotify streams as one of the standout cuts from their debut album.
What was Psychedelic Porn Crumpets’ first album?
Their debut, High Visceral, Pt. 1, was self-released on 19 March 2016 and later followed by a sequel, High Visceral, Pt. 2, in April 2017. The two records were eventually repackaged together as a double album.
Is Psychedelic Porn Crumpets similar to King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard?
The two bands share a Perth-adjacent Australian psych-rock lineage and both draw on krautrock-inspired rhythms, but Psychedelic Porn Crumpets lean more heavily into melodic hooks and dynamic, prog-influenced arrangements rather than King Gizzard’s genre-hopping experimentation.