With “Reckless Running,” the Dutch outfit trades irony for introspection—channeling their most volatile impulses into something sharper, heavier, and unexpectedly human.

There’s always been a certain manic electricity running through Iguana Death Cult—the kind that feels like it could either combust or crystallize at any given moment. On their latest single “Reckless Running,” that energy finally turns inward.

It’s not just another high-octane release. It’s a rupture.

Arriving ahead of their forthcoming fourth album Guns Out (out April 10 via Greenway Records and The Reverberation Appreciation Society), the track captures a band no longer interested in hiding behind irony, movement, or noise. Instead, Iguana Death Cult lean into something far more dangerous: self-awareness.

“Old habits die hard,” the band admits. “For the longest time I was a habitual escapist… a self-induced Groundhog’s Day.”

What emerges on Guns Out is a project that doesn’t abandon chaos—but interrogates it.

Back to the Edge, But With Purpose

After the more art-punk-funk leanings of 2023’s Echo Palace, Guns Out marks a return to the band’s raw, garage-driven core. But this isn’t regression—it’s recalibration.

The riffs are sharper. The rhythms hit harder. The songwriting cuts deeper.

At the center of it all is a tension that defines the record: aggression versus vulnerability, movement versus stillness, escape versus confrontation.

“Reckless Running” embodies that duality perfectly—both a release and a confession, a sprint away from something and directly into it.

“Reckless Running” feels like both a release and a confession. At what point did you recognize escapism as something you needed to confront rather than lean into?
At a certain point it’s just not fun anymore. The excitement turns into boredom and you realize you’re not escaping anything, you’re just delaying it. “Reckless Running” comes from a rock bottom moment of clarity where the distractions didn’t work anymore and I had to sit with what was actually going on underneath.

The track captures that loop of repeating patterns—almost like a self-imposed Groundhog Day. How do you break out of those cycles creatively and personally?
First step is getting sober. For me, I channeled all of that into sports in a borderline unhealthy manner. First I started boxing 4–5 times a week until I messed up my elbows. Then I just started running—long distances. I always thought I would hate that but it really helped me rewire my brain. I even stepped away from music for a couple of months. I think I had connected it too much to that old lifestyle, but I’m starting to reconnect with it now.

Guns Out marks a return to a more raw, punchy garage rock sound after Echo Palace. What pushed you to strip things back and reconnect with that earlier energy?
After the band almost fell apart, we got asked to do a couple of shows with OSEES. That reignited something. We decided to stay in that energy and write fast, intuitively, without overthinking. Maybe we were subconsciously nostalgic—but it felt right.

There’s a tension in your music between chaos and control—frenzied instrumentation but very intentional songwriting. How do you balance those two forces?
The frame is always very strong—like concrete. Once it’s set, you can push, pull, and wail on it as much as you like. It’s not going to collapse.

Your sound pulls from post-punk, funk, garage rock, even jazz. Is that genre-blending instinctive or intentional?
It’s natural. We all listen to very different things, and it seeps in. It’s not about rejecting structure—we just don’t feel tied to one. If it feels good, we follow it.

With Uri Rennert joining on drums, how has the lineup shift changed the band’s chemistry?
Uri brought a different precision and energy. There’s looseness in feel but tightness in execution. It changed how we think about rhythm.

Lyrically, this record feels more introspective while still reflecting a chaotic external world. How do those two forces interact?
They’re impossible to separate. The outside world feeds internal tension, and vice versa. The songs exist somewhere in between.

You’ve toured extensively—SXSW, Jack White, major festivals. Did life on the road shape this record?
Not directly. But we wanted songs that hit live. Most of these tracks are built for movement. There’s nothing better than a dancing crowd.

Guns Out feels tough on the outside but soft underneath. Was it important to reveal that vulnerability?
Definitely. Aggression comes from uncertainty. Being vulnerable is actually tougher. The two amplify each other.

This album feels like a reckoning. Where do you go from here?
This was about clearing something out. Now there’s space again. We don’t know exactly what comes next—but we’re ready to explore.

A Band Rewriting Its Own Narrative

Formed in Rotterdam in 2014, Iguana Death Cult built their reputation on volatility—feral live shows, jagged riffs, and a kind of irreverent cool that masked deeper undercurrents. Over the past decade, they’ve shared stages with acts like Osees and Jack White, carving out a place in the global underground.

But Guns Out doesn’t just build on that history—it reframes it.

With a renewed lineup, including drummer Uri Rennert, and a stripped-back creative approach, the band has created something that feels both immediate and intentional. The album pulses with urgency, but it’s no longer directionless. Every chaotic moment feels earned.

And beneath the noise, there’s something else emerging: reflection.

Chaos, Rewired

If earlier Iguana Death Cult records felt like an explosion, Guns Out feels like what happens after—the smoke clearing, the ringing in your ears, the realization that something inside you has shifted.

“Reckless Running” is the sound of that realization. Of patterns breaking. Of momentum turning into meaning.

It’s still loud. Still unpredictable. Still wired with the same angular, danceable energy that made the band so compelling in the first place.

But now, there’s weight behind it.

And for Iguana Death Cult, that might be the most radical move of all.