Unleashing Chaos: The Pudding Dragons' Nu-Metal Adventure Awaits You!

Year 1: The Gooey Genesis (2021)

Ah, 2021. The world was still in the thick of the COVID-19 pandemic, and while many bands were postponing tours, canceling studio sessions, or performing concerts to cardboard cutouts of fans, something peculiar was brewing in the quaint, sheep-infested hills of New Zealand. Enter Smudge Miramar—a weirdo of vision, of questionable taste in footwear, and with a burning desire to combine rap, nu-metal, death metal, and an unholy love for dessert.

The Pudding Dragons were born out of boredom, lockdown frustration, and Smudge’s belief that “nothing goes harder than a death growl followed by a custard bath.” Don’t ask. Their first single, “My Cat has got the Zoomies,” dropped on SoundCloud in early May 2021. It featured Smudge’s raspy vocals rapping about overthrowing governments and the perils of undercooked crème brûlée, layered with bone-crushing riffs and drum beats that could make a Viking warship do a double take.

The song caught fire—well, more like a smolder. Their ten loyal fans described it as “deliciously unhinged” and “an experience best enjoyed with earplugs.” Their first EP "Siamese Love and Mischief" followed soon after, with tracks like “How heavy is that cat” and “Little Whisker Eyes”. No one quite knew what was happening, but everyone agreed: the metal world had gotten... stranger.

Year 2: The Jiggly Juggernaut (2022)

With live shows returning, the Pudding Dragons quickly became the weirdest band to grace the stages of Auckland’s underground metal scene. Their performances were notorious—not just for the music, but for Smudge’s habit of throwing actual pudding at the crowd. Fans would leave venues covered in chocolate mousse, as if they'd been ambushed by a food fight orchestrated by Slipknot. The band didn’t stop there: one infamous show involved Smudge riding a mechanical dragon mid-breakdown while reciting dessert recipes in guttural growls.

Critics were baffled. Metalheads scratched their heads, unsure if they should mosh or ask for seconds. Rolling Stone NZ called them “a mix between Pantera and The Great British Bake Off on LSD.”

Their second album, “Nursey Rhymes to wake your Neighbors” solidified the band’s identity. It boasted epic breakdowns like “Baa, baa, black sheep,” and surprisingly heartfelt ballads such as “Jack and Jill went up the hill,” proving that even in the most hardcore of genres, emotions can jiggle. The band’s motto became, “We’re here to shred... and to snack.”

Year 3: Pudding Pandemonium (2023)

By 2023, the Pudding Dragons had become somewhat of a metal meme. Their fanbase was a mishmash of hardcore metalheads, confused parents, and dessert enthusiasts. They headlined some of the strangest festivals the world had ever seen,

Yet, amidst the absurdity, the band’s musical prowess grew undeniable. Smudge Miramar's stage presence evolved from “maniac with a spatula” to “legitimate frontman who just happens to love pudding.” Fans began to see beyond the chaos to appreciate the technical skills of guitarist “Felix” Jeffries (a former chef turned riff machine) and drummer “Clo-Clo” (who claimed she could “blast beat her way out of any kitchen”).

The world of metal, notorious for its gatekeeping, was surprisingly warming to the Pudding Dragons. Their ability to both embrace and mock the genre’s seriousness made them a refreshing, if sticky, addition. M***l H****r magazine begrudgingly referred to them as “the most metal thing you can do with a rolling pin.”

Their third album, “Sea Shanties and Songs to Sail the Seas” continued the madness. Tracks like “Sailin' to New Zealand” and “Who needs a big brother to fight” became anthems for fans who had, for reasons only they could explain, tattooed cupcakes on their arms and grown to appreciate the band's commitment to being both brutal and absurd.

Smudge himself had fully leaned into his role as the messiah of metal desserts. In interviews, he mused philosophically about the parallels between the rise of soufflés and the existential dread of a mid-life crisis. The band’s social media became a place where fans discussed the merits of deathcore and shared cheesecake recipes.

The Legacy of Pudding Dragons: A Future Full of Flavor?

Here we are in 2024, three years into this sugar-fueled experiment, and the Pudding Dragons show no signs of slowing down. They’ve mastered the art of absurdity, striking a balance between serious musicianship and an unwavering dedication to never taking themselves too seriously. After all, as Smudge likes to say, “Life’s too short not to throw pudding.”

Now, as the metal world licks its wounds (and possibly some leftover mousse), we wonder: what’s next for the Pudding Dragons? A world tour? A cookbook? A collaboration with Metallica? Only time will tell, but one thing’s for sure—wherever they go, they’ll leave a trail of chaos, laughter, and a suspicious amount of dairy.

Stay tuned, and bring a spoon.