Splintergroup, Spits Milk and Dead Mint Deliver a Night of Pure Noise at Dubrek Studios

There is something special about a packed room at Dubrek Studios on a warm summer evening. The venue has become one of Derby’s most important homes for underground music, and on 19 June it once again proved exactly why. A fantastic turnout filled the room for a bill featuring Nottingham’s Dead Mint, chaotic punk outfit Spits Milk and hometown headliners Splintergroup. Three bands, three very different approaches to heavy music, and not a single weak moment between them.

Opening the evening were Dead Mint, who proudly describe themselves as “Heavy Psych Garage Grunge Noise”. It is a description that somehow still undersells what they bring to the stage. Their sound is rooted in heavy garage rock, but there are flashes of psychedelia, grunge and classic rock running through every song.

One of the band’s biggest strengths is their dual vocal attack. The male and female vocals complement each other brilliantly, switching effortlessly between melody and raw aggression. Behind them sat a relentless rhythm section while the lead guitarist, positioned on the right-hand side of the stage, appeared completely lost inside his own world, firing out atmospheric guitar lines, sleazy solos and shimmering finger-picked passages that added another dimension to every track.

The set showcased material from their debut album alongside songs destined for their forthcoming second record. Midway through, they slowed things down with a beautifully atmospheric number that leaned heavily into psychedelic territory. Twinkling guitar work floated over the room before the band dragged everyone back into their thick, fuzzy wall of sound.

A humorous moment came when the band somehow misplaced their set list, only for an audience member to spot it and hand it back. It perfectly summed up the friendly atmosphere inside Dubrek.

A brand new song stood out as one of the highlights. It exploded into life with the swagger of an impossibly heavy Royal Blood-style riff before unexpectedly dropping into something slower, moodier and drenched in grungy atmosphere. Their closing track followed a similarly cinematic route, opening with layers of reverb, strange noises and swirling effects before crashing into one final blast of crushing garage rock.

If Dead Mint eased everyone into the evening, Spits Milk promptly smashed through the front door.

From the opening seconds they unleashed an overwhelming wall of noise that blurred the lines between punk, hardcore, sludge and heavy metal. It was loud, filthy and completely uncompromising.

The frontman was impossible to take your eyes off, despite rarely looking at anyone. He spent much of the performance wandering around the floor in front of the stage with his back to the audience, crouching over his vocal effects pedal, throwing different textures across his voice while the band battered away behind him. At various points he collapsed onto the floor, crawled around the venue, rolled across the dancefloor, knocked over the microphone stand and generally behaved like a man possessed.

Yet none of it felt forced. Every strange movement felt completely connected to the music.

Between songs he launched into a bizarre story about a bandmate talking about sewage smells in Spain, suggesting that hotter British summers might eventually bring the same aroma over here. Apparently it is not unpleasant. According to him, it is simply the smell of being on holiday.

Only Spits Milk could make that somehow fit naturally into the set.

The chaos continued throughout. Drum hardware threatened to collapse, the vocalist wandered over to the merchandise table to proudly show off a newly printed T-shirt that amusingly failed to include the band’s own name, before wearing it awkwardly over the clothes he already had on. At one point it ended up stretched over his face like something straight out of Beavis and Butt-Head.

He terrorised his own band in the best possible way, throwing shirts around, heckling them while they were still playing, wandering over to bash the drummer’s cymbals and generally causing as much disruption as possible. Somehow it only made the performance stronger. There was an infectious sense that nobody quite knew what would happen next, including the band themselves.

They eventually closed with something altogether darker. Gothic, sludgy and crushingly heavy, it felt like being buried beneath layers of distortion before the final note rang out.

Spits Milk are unpredictable, mischievous and completely unforgettable. What an exciting band to watch.

Closing the evening were Splintergroup, fronted by Dubrek Studios owner Jay Dean. While many people know Jay for everything he does behind the scenes to support Derby’s independent music scene, seeing him front Splintergroup is an entirely different experience.

This is noise punk stripped back to its raw essentials. Thick walls of feedback, relentless riffs and intricate drumming combine into something that constantly threatens to collapse under its own weight, yet somehow always remains tightly controlled.

Before launching into the set, Jay thanked both support bands along with everyone who had ventured out on an incredibly hot evening to support live music. He also introduced guitarist Dave, who was making his debut performance with Splintergroup.

Had nobody mentioned it, you would never have guessed it was his first show.

The chemistry already looked completely natural.

The band even unveiled a brand new song featuring the new line-up. It was sludgy, grungy and unbelievably loud, another huge wall of distorted guitars that hit with enormous force while still allowing Jay’s vocals to cut through the mix.

There were a few minor drum issues during the performance, although considering the sheer force being unleashed behind the kit it almost felt inevitable. None of it distracted from the set for even a second.

One standout track saw the band jokingly attempt to kill drummer Mark, building from relentless drum patterns into an absolutely monstrous crescendo of feedback, distortion and deafening noise. It was overwhelming in the very best way.

The final song brought everything crashing down in spectacular fashion, ending the night in one last explosion of sound.

Away from the stage, Splintergroup also had copies of their previous album available, each featuring individually hand-printed covers in a limited edition of just 45 copies. Thankfully I managed to grab one. Number 1 of 45 now has a very happy home.

That perfectly sums up what Splintergroup are all about. Everything they do embraces punk’s DIY philosophy, but none of it feels rushed or thrown together. Whether it is the painstakingly hand-printed artwork, the songwriting, the recording process or the intensity of the live performance, every detail has clearly been crafted with genuine care. The music is chaotic, deafening and often overwhelming, yet beneath all that noise sits an enormous amount of thought and musicianship.