Liverpool-based, Melbourne-bred Sam Waugh’s latest incarnation as Gidget delivers a refreshing blast of unpretentious dance-rock with “Like An Animal.” Released February 19th, the single has already garnered attention from BBC Introducing: Merseyside, Triple J (Australia), and BBC Introducing Rock on Radio 1, alongside regular rotation on Amazing Radio—the tastemaking platform known for early championing of Bastille, The 1975, Alt-J, and Fontaines D.C. This growing recognition feels less like industry hype and more like the natural consequence of creating something genuinely, gloriously stupid in all the right ways.
After a decade in the music scene across Australia and the UK, Waugh has deliberately shed the complexity that characterized his earlier work. “Like An Animal” stands as a manifesto of musical simplification—a conscious rejection of overthinking in favor of visceral impact. Drawing from the playbook of Art vs. Science’s dumb-but-genius riffage and the danceable grooves of The Presets and Kasabian, the track delivers a deceptively simple, ridiculously catchy chorus that lodges in your brain with the persistence of a summer earworm.
What makes the single particularly compelling is its self-awareness. Waugh knows exactly what he’s doing, embracing a calculated idiocy that paradoxically requires significant musical intelligence. The hefty central riff anchors a composition that’s engineered for physical response rather than intellectual dissection—music designed for pint-sinking rather than chin-stroking.
Behind the irreverent facade lies a musician with serious credentials, having participated in local and national music groups across two continents. This experience informs Gidget’s approach without weighing it down. When Waugh describes his process as simply writing songs, getting feedback from friends, making adjustments, and heading to the pub, he’s not being reductive but refreshingly honest about stripping music back to its essential joy.
“Like An Animal” ultimately succeeds because it remembers what too many artists forget—sometimes the most profound musical statement is giving yourself permission to create something delightfully, deliberately dumb that makes people move.
