Dry Cleaning is slipping us glimpses of their sly third album, Secret Love, out January 9, 2026 on 4AD, and Evil Evil Idiot lands like a hazy hangover you didn’t see coming—Florence Shaw’s voice cutting through the fog with that trademark mix of wit and weariness.
This one’s a slow-burn post-punk gem, clocking in around four minutes with a brooding bassline and jagged guitar riffs that build to an almost apocalyptic swell. It’s got that Dry Cleaning DNA: sparse, hypnotic grooves where the instruments simmer like they’re holding back a storm, letting Shaw’s spoken-sung delivery take center stage.
Lyrically, it digs into the numb absurdities of modern life—think charred meals and endless plastic waste as metaphors for emotional burnout, delivered with a deadpan humor that stings just right. Shaw’s words twist the everyday into something eerie, like spotting the cracks in your own routine while the world’s spinning off its axis. No big collabs here beyond the band’s core, but the track’s music comes courtesy of Cate Le Bon, whose production touch adds this ethereal edge, recorded partly at Jeff Tweedy’s Chicago studio for that intimate, lived-in feel.
Secret Love unfolds across 11 tracks that feel like a scrapbook of quiet revelations, from the strutting opener “Hit My Head All Day” (already out and buzzing with its misinformation-fueled bite) to the tender close “Joy.” There’s “Cruise Ship Designer,” poking at hollow luxuries, and “My Soul / Half Pint” layering in those signature surreal snapshots. The album’s whole vibe nods to the deep bonds that fuel the band—friendships forged in late-night talks and road trips—while pushing their sound toward something rawer, less polished than before. Singles have dropped hints via moody videos and live teases, with Shaw calling out themes of manipulation and fleeting worth in press chats.
Right now, Dry Cleaning’s in that sweet spot of quiet confidence, fresh off a Nick Cave tour that sharpened their live edge and Stumpwork’s 2022 introspection. Shaw’s evolved from cryptic laundry-list rants to these sharper, more personal jabs, and with Le Bon steering the ship, the band’s trading some punk snarl for a weirder, warmer glow—like they’re inviting you into the mess instead of just observing it.
Dive into the Evil Evil Idiot lyrics below and unpack its raw narrative. Don’t miss other Secret Love tracks for more of Dry Cleaning’s surreal snapshots.
| Lead Vocals | Florence Shaw |
| Songwriter | Florence Shaw, Lewis Maynard, Nick Buxton & Tom Dowse |
| Music Producer | Cate Le Bon |
| Label | 4AD |
| Release Date | January 9, 2026 |
| Song Language | English |
| Copyright © | 4AD |
| Phonographic Copyright ℗ | 4AD |
Lyrics of Evil Evil Idiot by Dry Cleaning
I Don’t Want To Be Lectured
I Like To Burn My Food Up
Flames Baptise The Filth Of Plastic Surfaces That Has Migrated Onto My Precious Natural Ingredients
I Could Never Live With Someone Who Didn’t Enjoy Scorched And Burnt Foods As Much As Me
Well Fired Rolls And Burnt Ends
Another Burnt Dish From Another Place
There Have Been Malicious Studies That Discredited Heavily Carbonised Foods As Carcinogenic
But It Didn’t Put Me Off
One Needs To Enjoy Life, And My Only Access Route To Blissful Enjoyment Is Those Burnt Foods
The Taste, The Tang Of Flame-kissed Natural Fibres Frozen At The Moment Of Their Incineration Is, Is
What I Live For!
I Cannot Feel It, The Veil Of Black
A Fine Spray Of White Paint
Will You Do Me A Favour And Never Ever Use Black Plastic To Heat Up
And Touch Food With Or Put In Your Mouth Ever Again?
Heating It Up Increases The Likelihood That The Chemicals Inside
Will Leach Into Your Food And Drink And Into Your Body Where They Will Do Their Damage!
I Cannot Feel It, The Veil…
The Veil Of Black Underneath
I Cannot Feel It
I’ve Got Real Muscly Hands And Sick Legs
They Hurt Me, And The Boils, The Boils Explode
And My Teeth They Are Old And My Shoes
They Aren’t The Right Ones, But I’m Young
I’m Old Young. I Ache
And Worry A Lot About What People Think Of Me
Christmas Tv On My Mind
Christmas Tv All The Time
The Neighbour, The Worm, The Spider, They All Love It:
Toasting, Roasting
I Don’t Want To Be Lectured
Like, Even A Coffee Cup Lid That’s Black
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