7/10

There's a particularly British kind of survival mechanism built into 'Life Lessons'. And that is when work is tedious, rent is punishing and the digital world feels increasingly absurd, turn the volume up and make a joke before everything becomes unbearable. On their second studio album, London outfit Disco Lizards convert the pressures of contemporary life into a loud, restless and knowingly ridiculous collection of garage-rock songs.

The record follows several years shaped by the pandemic, hybrid working, economic instability, artificial intelligence and a culture increasingly obsessed with online status. But Disco Lizards approach those subjects without adopting the voice of detached commentators. They sound like people trapped inside the same mess as everyone else, trying to navigate it through riffs, rhythm and a well-timed refusal to take themselves too seriously.

Opening track ‘Get Up’ appears to establish the album’s forward momentum, pushing us into a world where stopping is rarely an option. From there, the record moves through the small indignities and distractions of modern adulthood before reaching the entirely understandable conclusion that escape, preferably in the form of a holiday, has become necessary.

The band’s influences are apparent without overwhelming their own character. The sharp garage-rock attack of The Hives, the crooked guitar instinct of Jack White and the wiry groove of Viagra Boys all sit somewhere within the album’s frame. Disco Lizards, however, filter those reference points through a distinctly London sensibility built on sarcasm, everyday observation and live energy.

And that physicality is central to the record. Tracks such as ‘All Good’ carry the kind of driving force that makes sense in a crowded room, while ‘Pizza Boy’ and ‘Dad Bod’ lean confidently into the album’s sillier instincts. Their popularity in the band’s live set is unsurprising, as these songs appear to be shouted back by an audience that recognises itself in the chaos.

But what prevents 'Life Lessons' from becoming cynical is the obvious pleasure Disco Lizards take in playing together. Their criticism of modern life may be sharp, but the music itself is communal and generous. The riffs are big, the grooves are immediate and the jokes invite us in rather than leaving us outside the punchline.

'Life Lessons' doesn't pretend to offer wisdom in the conventional sense. Its lessons are messier: work will probably remain boring, money will remain tight, nights out will go wrong and the internet will continue making everybody slightly worse. Disco Lizards meet that reality with bad habits, big riffs and enough energy to make the whole thing feel survivable.