Despite their name, Perth’s Psychedelic Porn Crumpets are no joke: the band have been putting out some of the most exciting and unapologetic psych rock of the last decade, earning themselves quite a reputation in the meantime. A comedic edge remains an essential cornerstone of the group’s appeal, no doubt acting as the justification for the name and title of new record ‘Carpe Diem, Moonman’— beneath that loveable exterior though, the album has a lot more to offer than a quick gag. Psychedelic Porn Crumpets stand at the pinnacle of their genre, delivering an experience as well-crafted as it is off the wall.

Right from the off, the band are displaying a newfound energy that courses through the album— the suitably titled ‘Another Reincarnation’ is a truly explosive opener, wasting absolutely no time in thrusting the listener into all manner of flashy psych rock riffs. The track fails to crack the three-minute mark, yet is simply overflowing with infectious drum grooves, ripping guitar lines and even a groaning breakdown taken straight from the industrial metal playbook. Adding on a vocal performance bursting at the seams with enthusiasm, ‘Another Reincarnation’ acts as the starting gun for this psych rock sprint. ‘Carpe Diem, Moonman’ kicks off with its most aggressive material, blasting through furious punk refrains of “yeah, another reason to abuse it, yeah, I've got a good time if you wanna” on ‘March on for Pax Ramona’ and punchy brit-pop stomps on ‘Weird World Awoke’— fuzz-heavy guitar tones and a series of joyous performances serve to make these tracks a wild introduction to the world of Psychedelic Porn Crumpets.

It’s not an energy that lasts though: as ‘Carpe Diem, Moonman’ progresses through its ten tracks, the record begins to indulge more and more in lush soundscapes and slower, more restrained songwriting. One might expect a band named Psychedelic Porn Crumpets to display an unbridled creativity, and they seem more than willing to satisfy— the group hop between genres incessantly, perfectly at home wherever they happen to land. There’s an odd disconnect that occurs somewhere between the ripping riffs of ‘Another Reincarnation’ and the wondrous shoegaze of ‘Concrete & Cola,’ though, that leaves ‘Carpe Diem, Moonman’ feeling like a record lacking a distinct identity. The band seem unwilling to exhaust any one idea, instead opting to display just how far they can push the sounds of psych rock— the resulting record feels a little jumbled at times, despite best intentions.

If the listener can swallow that pill though, it should be quite easy to appreciate the array of incredible tracks Jack McEwan and company have assembled here: though ‘Carpe Diem, Moonman’ is harder to appreciate holistically, taking things song by song reveals the depths of the band’s talent. ‘Qwik Maff’ soaks itself in dizzying guitar parts and precise rhythmic accents, somehow collecting these dense elements into a surprisingly soothing listen— the band take math rock in their own unique direction, bypassing comparisons to others in the genre and instead forging a distinct path. Psychedelic Porn Crumpets seem similarly inspired on ‘Incubator (V2000),’ which houses all the stomping guitar parts and stoner rock lead lines of a prime Queens of the Stone Age track: things can get surprisingly heavy at times, sure to get those heads banging.

Sat alongside these tracks are, as we mentioned before, a number of flowing, serene soundscapes: the band seem loathe to be put in a box, defying conventions wherever possible. ‘As the Hummingbird Hovers’ glides along with a gentle momentum, wandering through supremely sweet meditations on love— the song feels as weightless as its aviary namesake, floating on spacious chord voicings, soft keys accompaniments and adorable lyrical choices.

“Four more tulips in your favourite vase

I would pick more but the farmer ended up chasing me away

You tell my future from a group of stars

You said "I love you forever in sound mind, body, and state”

The following ‘Scapegoat’ shows an even greater reverence for psychedelia, showcasing an arrangement that’s all but bursting with reverb: Psychedelic Porn Crumpets even manage to pack in a catchy chorus, cementing the cut as an utter triumph. Of course, slowing things down is always something of a gamble for a bands such as this— really though, ‘Carpe Diem, Moonman’ manages to sidestep tedium at every turn, with even its least memorable track ‘Winter in Parachutes’ managing to delight on relisten.

The linchpin that holds this eclectic mix of tracks together is the warm, comfy sound design that often defines psychedelic rock— fans can rest assured that, despite the shifting dynamics of the album, ‘Carpe Diem, Moonman’ fully indulges in the genre’s familiar tones and aesthetics. McEwan and Parish’s guitars, as well as the infectious bass lines of Jamie Reynolds, all carry with them a deep fuzziness that soaks the album in charm— it’s a choice that fits ‘March on for Pax Ramona’ as well as it does ‘Concrete & Cola,’ uplifting the entire experience. Whether the band are attempting boisterous rock or calming ambience, they’re consistently able to pull it off: the mind-bending performances on ‘Out the Universe Pours’ alone should be enough justification to hold this group of musicians in very high regard.

It’s easy to forget that good music comes in all packages, serious or ridiculous: anyone turning their noses up at ‘Carpe Diem, Moonman’ on the basis of its artwork alone are seriously missing out. Psychedelic Porn Crumpets have come out with a consistently moving body of work in 2025— whether they’re moving you to dance or to cry, the band can rest assured that they’ve crafted one of the most fun and distinctive records of their career here. With some more connective tissue, a future album from the group could be an all-timer: as is, their latest work is merely thoroughly enjoyable front to back.