Enter Yes Grasshopper, taking you on a trip into the unexplored depths of their collective mind, a place of daring rescue missions and uncanny swamp monsters, all imagined through the lens of a playful B-movie aesthetic.

Emerging from England's unforgiving northern coast, this dynamic duo present a wholly unique take on noise rock, with crushing riffs, white water rhythmic twists and barking intertwined vocals making way for heinously catchy hooks you'll find yourself whistling at the most unexpected of times. And with the lyrics spinning esoteric tales over such a compelling foundation, Yes Grasshopper won't let your undivided attention slip for a single second.

Their universe is one where both rage and joy jostle side-by-side, one moment buzzing with all the fury of a swarm of pissed-off hornets/mozzies, the next inviting the whole lot round for an unforgettable afterparty. Call it metal. Call it punk. Hell, call it hardcore-acid-math-crustcore if you want. What's so striking is that it doesn't deal in the usual palette of oppressive blacks and greys those genres invariably paint with, instead imagining a more kaleidoscopic and perhaps even welcoming landscape. And despite the heavy-as-heavy-can-be riffery and hammer-blow grooves, there is somehow an air of levity permeating the whole thing.

Giving the likes of Hella, Lightning Bolt and John (times two) a run for their money in the 'how much noise can two people make?' stakes, the respective halves of this newly established duo have been nourished on a diet of music's more extreme offerings, with the mischievous demons within intent on shredding hard. Live shows consist of the slicing of mustard and people losing their socks.