Premiere: Brisbane’s Dopamine have ‘No Words’ for the bland new world in their incendiary new single.

There is something reassuring about a band getting increasingly pissed off as they get better.

Brisbane’s Dopamine have always had a certain swagger about them – chiming guitars, mountainous choruses and a delicious genetic strand of Britpop and Madchester running through their veins – but new single ‘No Words’ feels like someone has turned up both the guitars and the indignation.

And we are very pleased to premiere it here at Backseat Mafia today.

I first came across Dopamine a few years ago with the magnificent ‘Turn Your Heart’, a track that had an exhilarating live-wire quality, all ringing guitars and widescreen melodies. ‘No Words’, the second single from forthcoming EP Get a Rise, retains that innate melodic sensibility but adds something altogether more abrasive: guitars grind and scrape against each other while an irresistible melody somehow fights its way through the glorious racket.

There’s a touch of the Gallagher brothers’ insouciance in the delivery, perhaps, but also something of the ragged urgency of the great Australian guitar tradition. Above all, Dopamine sound increasingly like themselves: confident, muscular and thrillingly unpolished around the edges.

And underneath the noise there is a very contemporary howl of disgust.

Singer Finley says the song emerged after returning home somewhat worse for wear in the small hours and discovering a notice announcing that neighbouring community housing was to be demolished for luxury apartments:

There I was bug eyed at 4 in the morning, thinking, these guys at the top just don’t care, they have no idea about my life, and the struggles of everyday people.

Then, in a moment of almost perfect urban satire, a running club appeared.

For Finley it crystallised a wider frustration with a world becoming increasingly homogenised and inward-looking – people “reading the same things, thinking the same things” while seemingly oblivious to the economic changes happening immediately around them.

And then comes the magnificent conclusion:

The hypocrisy is hilarious, that’s why I think run clubs are inherently conservative. Anyway, I was pissed off and wrote that song.

You have to admire a song whose genesis essentially boils down to property developers, gentrification, a massive night out and an ideological objection to running clubs.

But the humour shouldn’t obscure the anger. ‘No Words’ captures that strange disconnect of modern urban life: communities being hollowed out and repackaged while everyone is encouraged to concentrate on themselves, optimise their lives and keep moving. Dopamine don’t deliver a manifesto so much as a sneer – and the music has exactly the requisite amount of belligerence.

The result is magnificent. Big, crunchy guitars collide with a melody designed to lodge itself permanently in the cerebral cortex, propelled by the reckless energy of four people who sound as if they might at any moment lose control of the whole thing – but never do.

Dopamine have certainly earned their live reputation in recent years, selling out headline shows and sharing stages with the likes of Feeder, Royel Otis, Alex Lahey, Spacey Jane, Teenage Dads, Beddy Rays, The Jungle Giants and The Rions, alongside appearances at BIGSOUND and Dark Mofo. Their forthcoming Get a Rise EP was recorded at Scott Horscroft’s Grove Studios and mixed by Izaac Wilson.

If ‘No Words’ is indicative of where they are heading, the trajectory is distinctly upwards.

It’s brash, melodic, angry and ridiculously infectious – guitar music with dirt underneath its fingernails and a raised eyebrow at the absurdities unfolding around it.

Just whatever you do, don’t invite them to your run club.