Last updated: 2 days ago
Melbourne/Naarm’s The Mean Times, are gearing up to unleash their debut album Feel More Dumb in September 2025 through Golden Robot Records. Produced by Anna Laverty (Camp Cope, Peep Tempel, Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds), the record is the band’s most chaotic, honest and gloriously unhinged statement to date - equal parts panic attack and party anthem, blistering with sharp hooks, scuzzy riffs and more lyrical side-eye than a taxidermist at a petting zoo..
Having formed so long ago they can’t remember how, The Mean Times have played practically every sticky carpet in Victoria, and many more beyond. From their early synth-leaning debut EP You’ve Got the Wrong Guys, to the post-grunge garage-pop of Raw Prawn and Stunned Mullet, the band has consistently fused swagger with self-deprecation, pairing catchy choruses with subject matter that swings between mid-life dread, bad decisions, and the fun you can have before things fall apart.
The new singles Already Done and Hell preview the full chaos of Feel More Dumb - think The Vines on decaf, Blur with existential dread, or Arctic Monkeys being blackmailed by their own conscience. It’s music built to shout along with while you think. It’s raw yet polished, weird yet digestible, punk yet pop. There’s no redemption arc here, no grandstanding - just the thrill of shouting into the void with your mates and maybe pulling off a half-decent dance move before it all collapses.
Having formed so long ago they can’t remember how, The Mean Times have played practically every sticky carpet in Victoria, and many more beyond. From their early synth-leaning debut EP You’ve Got the Wrong Guys, to the post-grunge garage-pop of Raw Prawn and Stunned Mullet, the band has consistently fused swagger with self-deprecation, pairing catchy choruses with subject matter that swings between mid-life dread, bad decisions, and the fun you can have before things fall apart.
The new singles Already Done and Hell preview the full chaos of Feel More Dumb - think The Vines on decaf, Blur with existential dread, or Arctic Monkeys being blackmailed by their own conscience. It’s music built to shout along with while you think. It’s raw yet polished, weird yet digestible, punk yet pop. There’s no redemption arc here, no grandstanding - just the thrill of shouting into the void with your mates and maybe pulling off a half-decent dance move before it all collapses.
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