Dinosaur Pile-Up: I’ve Felt Better

Dinosaur Pile-Up are back with their new album, ‘I’ve Felt Better’, after six years of absence. Given the momentum built with the band’s previous record, this is a comeback that feels more powerful than ever – and even more so because of the serious health issues that frontman Matt Bigland had been facing and that put the very future of the band in doubt.

For background, their 2019 album, ‘Celebrity Mansions’, marked a major breakthrough for the Leeds band. Singles such as ‘Thrash Metal Cassette’, ‘Back Foot’ and ‘Round the Bend’ received heavy rotation on rock radio, with ‘Back Foot’ becoming their first track to crack the US Billboard Mainstream Rock chart.

On the live front, ‘Celebrity Mansions’ opened huge doors: the band toured internationally, including a Canadian run supporting The Offspring and Sum 41, as well as appearances at major festivals, such as Reading, Leeds and Download. They also headlined their own tours across the UK, Europe and the US, steadily building a reputation for high-energy, no-nonsense band.

With all that success suddenly cut short by Bigland’s health struggles, stepping back into the spotlight with ‘I’ve Felt Better’ feels like both a triumph and a rebirth. The record tears open with ‘Bout to Lose It’ – and from the first jagged riff it’s clear Dinosaur Pile-Up aren’t easing listeners in. The guitars grind with that familiar buzzsaw fuzz, while the rhythm section slams behind them like a runaway train. Matt Bigland is spitting out verses that feel half-unraveled before locking into a chorus designed to stick in your teeth. It’s a snapshot of that moment when everything threatens to spin out of control, a chaotic mission statement that sets the album’s tone: messy, loud and impossible to ignore.

Sliding in after the explosive opener is the title track ‘I’ve Felt Better’.The song trades sheer speed for a heavier mid-tempo churn, its riffs thick and lumbering, almost grunge-pop in their weight. Bigland’s vocals are more sardonic here, almost conversational in the verses, before the chorus opens up into a blunt refrain that feels both funny and bruised at once. There’s a lived-in honesty to the track, it doesn’t wallow so much as shrug, turning everyday disillusionment into something cathartic. By planting the album’s title in a song that balances grit with hooks, Dinosaur Pile-Up underline their mission: even when you’re at your lowest, there’s still substantial power in shouting it out at full volume.

As we progress, tracks such as ‘Punk Kiss’ and ‘Sick of Being Down’ highlight the band’s alt-rock DNA. Both songs have a loud, fuzzy sound that brings to mind the heavy riffs of Queens of the Stone Age and the raw energy of Nirvana. Still, Dinosaur Pile-Up make it their own, mixing rough, gritty guitars with big, catchy choruses that feel built for packed live shows.

And if the title track ‘I’ve Felt Better’ showed Dinosaur Pile-Up flexing their melodic side, the sixth song on the album, ‘Big Dogs’ yanks the wheel back toward swagger. One of the album’s most playful cuts, it’s built on a chunky stop-start riff that stomps more than it sprints. Bigland half-growls through verses that poke fun at macho posturing while also reveling in it, before the chorus explodes into a huge, shout-along moment made for festival pits. ‘Big Dogs’ isn’t subtle, but its force of personality makes it a clear snapshot of what makes Dinosaur Pile-Up fun: snarling and smirking at once.

The album closes with ‘I Don’t Love Nothing and Nothing Loves Me’, a finale that this time does not explode – it lingers. Slower and heavier, its riff feels like it’s trudging under its own weight. The sneer in Bigland’s voice gives way to resignation, repeating the title like a bitter, self-aware mantra. Lyrically, it’s the bleakest track off the album, yet musically, it offers release, as though speaking the darkness out loud makes it lighter. It’s not a triumphant ending – but a fitting one: a grim, cathartic exhale that captures the contradictions at the heart of ‘I’ve Felt Better’.

With this record, Dinosaur Pile-Up sharpen what’s always made them compelling: chaos turned cathartic, self-deprecation wrapped in hooks too strong to ignore. The songs swing between extremes, but never lose their bite – whether it’s the reckless charge of ‘Bout to Lose It’, the swaggering fun of ‘Big Dogs’ or the weary sigh of ‘I Don’t Love Nothing and Nothing Loves Me’. For a band built on noise, Dinosaur Pile-Up have never sounded more sure of themselves. The album doesn’t reinvent Dinosaur Pile-Up, but it distills everything that has always made them stand out – loud, scrappy and sardonic, yet always anchored by choruses too strong to dismiss. After years of silence, the band sounds not just alive but more sure of themselves than ever.