There is something suffocating about the world right now. Between political power plays, institutional failures, and the seemingly endless stream of human suffering delivered straight to our screens, it can feel as though we are watching everything fall apart with no real power to intervene. On Poor Advice, Basht. take that frustration and turn it into something almost unbearably claustrophobic.
The album opens with “Dive”, a slow-burning introduction that establishes its dark, melancholy atmosphere almost immediately. Crying guitars weave through the track, setting a tone that lingers throughout the record. There is little comfort to be found here, and Basht. seem perfectly content to leave you sitting with that discomfort.
With “Terror TV”, however, Basht. really begin to bare their teeth. Fast-paced, furious, and relentlessly forward-moving, the track captures the helplessness of watching horrific events unfold live on television, knowing that witnessing something and being able to change it are two entirely different things. It is an anger born out of powerlessness, one that feels particularly difficult to ignore in an age where the world's worst moments are delivered to us in real time. The track refuses to let that frustration remain passive, transforming it into something urgent and almost physically overwhelming.
That tension between personal experience and institutional power becomes particularly striking on “Superchurch”. Emotionally vulnerable and instrumentally one of the album’s strongest moments, the song confronts the damage left behind by religion and the difficult process of leaving the church. Rather than treating the subject as an abstract political argument, Basht. bring it into painfully personal territory. The result is a track that feels equal parts intimate and confrontational, its emotional weight carried just as much by its instrumentation as by its subject matter.
And then there is “Circadia”. “Ceilings falling down / The room keeps spinning round and round and round” – few lines could better capture the sensation of listening to this album. The track feels disorientating in the best possible way, as though the walls are closing in while the ground beneath your feet refuses to stay still. It is a particularly effective example of Basht.'s ability to translate an emotional state into sound, making the listener feel the instability rather than simply describing it.
“Moth” offers another reason to pay attention to this band. Jack Leavey is an astonishingly underrated vocalist, and his performance here deserves far more recognition than it receives. There is an emotional intensity to his delivery that elevates the songwriting without ever feeling excessive, moving through the track with a sense of vulnerability that makes its heavier moments hit all the harder. Leavey's talent extends well beyond his ability to construct a compelling song; his voice alone demands attention. On “Moth”, the two come together in something genuinely incredible.
At the heart of the record sits “Kids Vs Guns”, a track that originated from a poem about the genocide in Palestine. Perhaps the most straightforward song on Poor Advice, it strips away any unnecessary ambiguity to deliver a message that needs to be heard. Its directness is not a weakness but a necessity. Against a record concerned with the structures that shape our lives and the powerlessness those structures can produce, “Kids Vs Guns” brings the album's wider frustrations into devastating focus. It feels like the entire record distilled into a single track: its anger, its grief, its political conviction, and its refusal to look away.
Basht. are frustrated, and they make absolutely no attempt to hide it. They confront the things that make us angry, the institutions that let us down, and the horrors we are expected to witness without being given the means to stop them. Yet there is something unexpectedly uplifting about the way they channel that frustration. Not because the record offers easy answers or promises that things will get better, but because it refuses to let all that anger go to waste.
On Poor Advice, Basht. give a voice to a collective sense of unease that is becoming increasingly difficult to articulate. The record is gloomy and occasionally suffocating, but its intensity offers moments of genuine catharsis. It acknowledges that we are angry and that sometimes the only thing left to do is make some noise about it. In turning that frustration into a record this compelling, Basht. have made something that feels both deeply of its time and necessary. Crazy to think that this is their debut album. Hats off.
POOR ADVICE OUT NOW.
Words by
Marie Müller, 2026.