Baby Factory by Wanweird: A Punk Riot That’ll Mess With Your Head (In a Good Way)
Let’s get one thing straight—Wanweird’s Baby Factory isn’t here to hold your hand or play nice. This 2019 UK-born, genre-defying mess of punk, experimental rock, and post-punk chaos is like that weird cousin who shows up uninvited but ends up being the life of the party. Released under Not On Label (because, obviously, no label would touch this), it’s raw, unhinged, and absolutely unforgettable.
The album kicks off with “Reverse Paedo,” and holy crap, does it set the tone. It’s not just the name that grabs you—it’s the way the track feels like someone took a rusty chainsaw to your eardrums and then stitched them back together with barbed wire. The guitar riffs are jagged, the vocals sound like they were recorded in a haunted basement, and there’s this unsettling groove that makes you wanna dance even though you’re kinda scared to. You remember it because it’s equal parts catchy and creepy, like an earworm that whispers dark secrets instead of singing about sunshine.
Then there’s “Ciggy Butt Baby,” which might be the most Wanweird song title ever. This track hits hard with its relentless energy and sneering attitude. It’s got this driving bassline that feels like it’s chasing you down an alley while yelling insults. By the time the chorus slams in, you’re either headbanging or questioning all your life choices. Either way, it sticks with you—not because it’s polished or pretty, but because it’s real. Like, uncomfortably real.
Other tracks like “Racist Babies” and “I’ll Break Your Fucking Legs” keep the chaos train rolling, blending absurdity with razor-sharp commentary. And let’s not forget “Lonely Punk Face,” which somehow manages to capture the exact feeling of staring at the wall after a bad day while also making you want to smash something.
What’s wild about Baby Factory is how it refuses to sit still. One moment you’re nodding along to some crunchy post-punk vibes, and the next you’re lost in a swirl of experimental noise that sounds like a robot having an existential crisis. It’s messy, sure, but it’s the kind of mess you can’t stop staring at because it’s oddly beautiful in its own fucked-up way.
So yeah, Baby Factory isn’t for everyone. If you’re looking for something safe or predictable, keep walking. But if you’re into music that challenges you, pisses you off, and makes you laugh all at once, this is your jam. Listening to it feels like stepping into Wanweird’s brain—and trust me, it’s a place where nothing makes sense but everything clicks.
Final thought? This album reminds me of that time I tried to cook spaghetti and ended up setting off the smoke alarm. It was a disaster, but damn if it didn’t taste good in the end.
