If you think Stockholm is all clean design, polite silence and perfectly brewed coffee, you clearly haven’t stumbled into a Dead Pollys show.
Formed in 2011 with the snarling little grenade of an EP Waiting For Tomorrow, this Stockholm crew has spent the last decade proving that “dirty punk rock” and Scandinavian precision can, in fact, share the same beer-soaked rehearsal space. Five releases deep on Too Loud Records, they’ve built a catalog that nods respectfully to vintage punk—then spills a drink on its shoes.
Veterans? Yeah. Tired? Not Even Close.
Today’s lineup reads like a Swedish punk all-star team: members with mileage from Sighstens Grannar, Mansic, Sir Reg, Pasted, Simon and the Problemchild and Klägg. “Veterans” might be accurate. “Retired” definitely isn’t.
These guys don’t play punk rock like it’s a museum piece. They play it like it still owes them money.
Touring with legends like Down By Law, The Vibrators, 999 and Conflict didn’t just polish their résumé—it sharpened their teeth. You can hear it in the urgency, in the no-frills attack, in the way every chorus feels like it was written to be shouted by 200 sweaty strangers with plastic cups in hand.
Dead Pollys’ songwriting lives somewhere between a political rally and a lonely winter night.
“The Parade” swings at fascists with a half-empty wine bottle in hand, fueled by frustration and that classic punk dilemma: wanting revolution but somehow missing the damn parade. It’s messy, human, and painfully relatable. Rage? Yes. Self-awareness? Also yes.
“94” trades fists for frostbite. Waiting for a bus in a Stockholm winter becomes an existential crisis wrapped in snow and streetlights. It’s bleak, it’s numb, it’s oddly beautiful. Punk rock has always been about alienation—but here it feels cinematic. You’re not just waiting for bus ninety-four. You’re waiting for meaning, sleep, maybe salvation.
And “Armourgeddon”? That’s satire with a flamethrower. A mock public announcement spiraling into nuclear absurdity—“Let’s drop a bomb” repeated like a brainwashed mantra. It’s funny until it isn’t. Which is exactly the point.
Growing Up Without Growing Soft
In 2023, they dropped Truth of Tomorrow, and it showed a band aging the right way—raw lyrics intact, but with a tighter, more mature sound. Less chaos-for-chaos’-sake, more controlled burn. The anger didn’t fade; it focused.
Then in 2025 came Better Off Alive, recorded at Gamla Enskede Bryggeri in Stockholm on August 16th, 2024. And damn, you can practically smell the hops and sweat. It captures what makes this band dangerous in the best way: a singer who spends as much time in the crowd as on stage. Personal space? Never heard of it. It’s less a performance and more a shared outbreak.
The live record doesn’t polish anything. It amplifies the heat, the feedback, the pulse of bodies moving in a room that’s probably slightly over capacity. As it should be.
What’s Next? More Noise, Obviously.
2026 is shaping up nicely. Pollymimic flips the script—a cover album where friends reinterpret Dead Pollys songs. Risky? Sure. But punk was never about playing it safe.
They’re also set to hit Rebellion Festival in Blackpool, tour with Kauz of Affliction from Hawaii, and reunite with their old partners in crime from 999 for more mayhem later in the year. Not bad for a band that started with an EP and a middle finger in 2011.
Dead Pollys deal in bruises—emotional, political, and occasionally physical if you stand too close to the pit. Their music balances street-level frustration with a wink of dark humor. They scream about injustice, freeze at bus stops, mock world leaders, and still manage to make it all feel like a party you don’t want to leave.
Dirty punk rock from Stockholm? Yeah.
But more importantly: alive, loud, and still missing the parade on purpose.
Dead Pollys members:
Nizze – lead vocals, Juba – bass, Lelle – guitar, Miche – drums, Loke – guest guitar (Nizzes 18 year old son)
Dead Pollys social media:
Punk Rock Mag 
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