Bristol punks Heavy Lungs are back with Caviar, a 27-minute blast of rock n’ roll that rips through the senses like a freight train powered by shouted vocals and guitars. But this short and savage album isn’t just a nibble, it’s a a full-on buffet that’ll have you diving in face-first like you just left the pit, sweaty and starved.

Written in church basements and overpriced rentals, recorded live in just ten days at Humm Studios, Caviar is the band’s most riotous batch of songs yet, sounding like they’re trying to break free of the physical confines of the vinyl itself. As frontman Danny Nedelko puts it, “This is the most Heavy Lungs record there is.” And it's obvious he's not bluffing.

Opening track “Yes Chef” explodes from the speakers like bowl of chili left in the microwave for too long, just a greasy, delicious mess; a song that’s an homage to the hospitality grind where Nedelko and bassist James Minchall met. It's a track built on call-and-response chaos, shredding guitars, and a rhythm section tighter than your pants after finishing that bowl of chili. From there, it’s off to the races. “Cushion The Blow” slams California hardcore through a Black Flag filter, while the title track cranks out a fever-dream fantasy of poker tables, psych solos, and punk bombast. It’s a rager, as if Rounders met Casino Royale and both got punched in the face by the Jesus Lizard.

There’s more than just punk fury buried in the noise though. “Into The Fire” veers into Nine Inch Nails territory with industrial textures and a doomy, dub-soaked crawl. “Self Portrait” pokes fun at Swedish indie melancholia with a jagged, grunge-laced wink, while “Ballerina” shape-shifts between waltz and chaos, like Big Black on a twisted ballroom detour. And they don’t let up. “Get Out” is pure fire, a punk blitz laced with theremin weirdness and terrace chants. “Call It In” is the sonic equivalent of a nervous breakdown inside a bottle - relentless, claustrophobic, but somehow beautiful in its brutality.

Even their moment of calm, the ambient interlude “Put Thy Kettle On,” feels like a tea break during a riot. But then it’s back to battle with “Mr. Famous,” a scuzzy garage-pop gem that snarls straight into the tabloid sunset. They close with “Life’s A Buffet,” a Fall-meets-Fugazi finale that turns an IDLES tour in-joke into a punk mantra: “I had my fill and I’m still starving.” It's the sound of a band still starving, still swinging, and still not giving a damn what anyone else thinks.