ROTHCO’s debut EP Fool’s Gold introduces a new project with deep roots. Composed of members from various previous bands (Bunkerpop, Black Ravines, Stuka, Big River, Black Delta Movement, and Bedsit), the group draws on a shared history of underground guitar music to craft something both familiar and fresh, sharing their experience and bringing a new sound to their local Hull scene. Blending elements of dream-pop, shoegaze and slowcore, Fool’s Golds unfolds in a gauzy, melancholic drift—four tracks built on restraint, reverb, and emotional weight. Rather than chasing immediacy, ROTHCO leans into atmosphere, offering a slow-burning first statement that rewards patience and close listening.
Fool’s Gold, the title track of the EP, sets the emotional and sonic tone with haunting clarity. It opens in a soft blur—spare guitar notes hanging in space, hesitant and echoing—before slowly unfolding into a brooding, slow-motion swell. The vocals hover just above a whisper, almost buried beneath layers of reverb, as if deliberately holding back before strengthening, slowly becoming more powerful. This restraint becomes the song’s strength: it captures the ache and tells such a dynamic story. There’s a weight to every pause, every minor chord, as ROTHCO explores the false luster of love, memory, or ambition. With its hypnotic pacing and textural depth, Fool’s Gold feels like a quiet implosion—a moment suspended in amber, both beautiful and bitter.
ROTHCO further proves they are truly ones to watch with second track Coming In Hot. The track is a feverish introduction to the band’s self-described ‘technicolour new wave’ sound. It’s loud, lean, and impossible to ignore—a cocktail of post-punk paranoia, psychedelic shimmer, and disco grit. From the opening bars, there’s tension. Guitars shimmer and stab in equal measure, drums tumble with unhinged precision, and the bassline slinks through the chaos like it’s got somewhere darker to be. The vocals ride the storm, delivering every line with a manic theatricality that feels just as likely to seduce as to snap. What’s most striking is how much ROTHCO crams into under two minutes: cinematic shifts, dancefloor pulses, moments of near-collapse that pivot into full-blown swagger. There’s a fearless, maximalist energy here—yet nothing feels overdone. Every sound is intentional, every movement sharpened. It’s clear this is a band made of scene veterans—the kind who know not just how to write a hook, but how to make it hit like a hammer wrapped in velvet. Having members from Black Delta Movement, Bunkerpop, and Black Ravines explains the polish, but Coming In Hot feels less like a product of experience and more like an exorcism through music.
Jackson, the EP’s closer, plays like a fever dream at the end of a night out—equal parts comedown and cosmic send-off. Where earlier tracks burn with punk urgency, “Jackson” leans into atmosphere and surrealism. Captivating vocals blur into spoken-word mantras, swirling through psychedelic textures and echo-laced effects that feel like falling sideways through time. The rhythm section stays stripped back and steady, giving the track a hypnotic pulse while the edges melt in distortion and haze. It’s a bold, theatrical finale—less a final song and more a ritual exit. With Jackson, ROTHCO doesn’t bow out quietly; they vanish in a puff of shimmering smoke.
With Fools Gold, ROTHCO stake their claim as one of the UK’s most compelling new acts—genre-blurring, theatrical, and entirely on their own wavelength. Across its brief but vivid runtime, the EP fuses post-punk urgency with psychedelic textures and a disco undercurrent that pulses beneath the surface. It’s a debut that feels both grounded in tradition and totally unafraid to twist it into strange new shapes. From the explosive swagger of Coming In Hot to the surreal sprawl of Jackson, Fools Gold doesn’t just introduce ROTHCO—it invites you deep into their world, all glitter, shadows, and sweat.
For fans of: Talking Heads, Joy Division, Sports Team
‘Fool’s Gold’ by ROTHCO is out now on Man Demolish Records.
Words by Ell Bradbury
