Last year Twat Union became one of my firm favourites after the release of their debut EP Don’t Look It In The Eye. That record has barely left rotation since, and I’ve seen them live twice in the months that followed -with another gig already firmly in the diary. Feminist, loud, theatrical, feral and very, very funny, Twat Union are everything I want from a band.
Still riding high from the euphoria of their debut- with praise from The Guardian, The Times and airplay on BBC 6Music, alongside riotous sets at Glastonbury, Rebellion and Boomtown-the London feral-theatre-punk collective have wasted no time in unleashing their second EP, Don’t Blame The Peach.
The title comes from a line in live favourite ‘Period Sex’:
“You don’t blame the peach for the juice running down your hand.”
It perfectly encapsulates the Twat Union ethos — bodily, messy, unapologetic and rooted in dismantling shame.
‘Period Sex’ itself feels somewhere between a spoken-word monologue and a surreal feminist punk musical number. It’s chaotic, funny, and deliberately provocative — and based on a real-life experience that was once mortifying before being reframed as entirely normal. That reframing is central to what Twat Union do: they take the stuff we’re told to whisper about and blast it through an amp.
‘WFH’ tackles female masturbation with the same gleeful bluntness. “Are you working or are you wanking from home?” they ask, before clarifying, “Let’s call it what it is — it’s not procrastinating, it’s masturbating!” It’s silly, yes — but it’s also political. Normalising female pleasure without filtering it through a male lens still feels radical, and Twat Union deliver it with heavy riffs and raised eyebrows.
‘Tiny Shorts’ might be my personal favourite moment on the EP, largely thanks to that riff — strutting, sassy, and instantly infectious. It soundtracks a takedown of the tired narrative that clothing is an invitation. Live, it already goes off. On record, that bassline still carries the same defiant swagger.
‘Pay Me More’ thrashes through the gender pay gap with biting humour. “Let’s not beat around the bush when we’re talking about equal pay — but that’s the problem, my bush seems to get in the way.” It’s funny, but it’s fuelled by real exhaustion — that constant, grinding experience of being underestimated or labelled “fiery” instead of competent.
Then there’s ‘W.I.T.C.H’, a hormonal, cackling ode to the long history of women being branded hysterical or dangerous simply for existing. Knowing the band recorded an actual witch-cackle competition in the studio somehow makes perfect sense. Twat Union understand that laughter and rage are not opposites — they’re partners.
And that balance becomes even clearer if you’ve seen them live.
Twat Union don’t just perform songs — they stage them. Glitter-streaked “period towels”. Vibrators waved like props in a punk theatre production. Red flags unfurled. Cranberry juice chugged mid-song during ‘UTI’ from the first EP. They quite literally act out their catalogue. It’s feral theatre in its truest sense — absurd, political, communal.
What’s remarkable is that none of it feels gimmicky. The props amplify the message rather than distract from it. The humour makes the anger sharper. The anger makes the humour land harder.
Some might argue that calling your band Twat Union is self-sabotage in an industry that still clutches its pearls. But judging by their trajectory so far — national press, major festival slots, growing live notoriety — that theory doesn’t hold much weight.
In a world that still treats women’s bodies, pleasure and anger as things to be managed or muted, Twat Union feel like an act of reclamation. They represent owning all parts of yourself — the messy, hormonal, furious, joyful parts — and refusing to sanitise them for comfort.
Don’t Blame The Peach is loud, silly, sharp and necessary. It captures the chaos of their live energy while sharpening their songwriting into something even more confident.
Laughter feels good. So does rage.
Twat Union give you both — and they’re only getting louder.
Live Dates:
23/2- Rough Trade East, London
28/2- Elysium Gallery, Swansea
6/3- The Jenny Linds, Hastings
7/3- Kola, Portsmouth
10/4- The Hope and Anchor, Brighton
16/4- Hotbox, Chelmsford
17/4- Voodoo Daddy’s, Norwich
24/4- Le Pub, Newport
25/4- Rough Trade, Bristol
‘Don’t Blame The Peach’ is out now and you can buy it here
Twat Union Socials: Instagram/Facebook
Review by Hayley Foster da Silva
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