Archive for the ‘Live’ Category

Christopher Nosnibor

Doors opening at 7 suggests an early start and early finish, and sure enough Error Control is on at 7:30. It’s very quiet in terms of attendance – so quiet initially I’m wondering if I’ve got the wrong night, but the beer’s decent enough and there’s some pounding, beat-heavy industrial noise pumping from the PA.

There’s a pattern emerging here: bands on respected underground / independent labels landing in Leeds to play to small but enthusiastic audiences play some of the most outstanding gigs I’ve witnessed all year. This was true of Might and Noisepicker when they played the Duck and Drake, and the same is true of Deafkids, who have brought Kombi, also from Brazil, along as the main support. It’s the tenth night of a world tour which has already seen them play mainland Europe, UK, and Ireland, with a stack more UK dates before heading back across Europe and onto Japan before a final haul round South America. These guys work hard. I do wonder if Angine de Poitrine’s long-sold out (and probably oversold) show at the O2 may have pulled some people away, and likewise the Ambient Leeds night at The Fox and Newt, but it doesn’t seem all that probable. So where the hell is everyone? Still, those present make up for number in terms of enthusiasm, and get to witness something special.

Error Control, playing blindfolded, creates a punishing wall of noise worthy of Merzbow. He begins by tentatively locating the monitor and draping the mic on it to generate a sustained feedback, which then goes through a succession of pedals and bits, which he tweaks and bashes to evermore brutal effect. It’s the kind of noise that’s both exhilarating and immersive, the harsh blast rendered even more intense by the use of only red lighting, which strobes. As he climbs up onto his bench in front of the stage, a potential health and safety nightmare reveals itself, but he gradually returns to the ground, where he proceeds to hail his pedal board onto the floor, and the set ends abruptly while he’s standing on the pedalboard and everything cuts out.

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Error Control

It’s only after I get home that not only have I seen him perform in person once before, but that performing with …(something) ruined, we’ve also featured alongside one another at two virtual gigs during lockdown.

Kombi’s set is a fine example of exploratory, experimental music, which reveals different facets as the set progresses. Billowing dark ambient with guttural growls gives way to fractured guitar and crackling contact work, a convergence of avant-garde and industrial. On the third piece, he unleashes Sunn O))) -like power chord drone. The second half of his set is a continuous extended piece built around dank loops and drones and wailing feedback, whereby the low frequencies bother the bowels and the shrill squall of treble terrifies the eardrums.

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Deafkids are having some technical issues and start twenty minutes later than advertised. Oh, but they’re more than worth the wait. And if they’re disappointed by playing to around twenty-five people, they don’t let it show, and their set is an absolute blinder.

They’ve not only captured the sound and feel of new album, CICATRIZES DO FUTURO (SCARS OF THE FUTURE), but take it to a whole other level live. Not for the first time, I’m amazed that there are just two guys up there: with a combination of pre-recorded drum loops, prerecorded and live guitar and extraneous noise loops, infinite delay on everything, especially the vocals, and some truly remarkable drumming, they conjure a dense, powerful sound, dominated by a thunderous barrage of percussion.

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Marian Sarine’s drumming is something to behold, often playing the congas with one hands while working his way around snare, toms, and cymbals with a stick, effortlessly switching to two sticks, and occasionally two hands. He smiles a lot, too. The resulting battery lands like Test Dept meets Swans, but with some techno breaks and a Latin twist. Oh, and there’s some looped beatboxing, too. Because they need more beats. It all builds to a head-shredding wall of noise. This ultra-percussive explosion is paired with abstract guitar work and vocals swathed in cavernous reverb and endless echo. It’s totally hypnotic, propulsive.

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With so much percussion, it’s got groove. It’s techno, trance, dub, shoegaze, and noise rock all at once. And some flute. It all makes for an intense fifty minutes. And it’s all done by ten past ten, which is ideal on a Sunday night.

Christopher Nosnibor

Listening to Stories They Don’t Teach You in School earlier, I was – not for the first time – struck by the raw, unfiltered nature of Meryl Streek’s lyrics. On discovering supporting Pigs x 7 earlier in the year, my first impression was that he was a bit of a novelty act, although I’d changed my mind completely after about three songs. Explaining what he does to anyone has proven a challenge. Yes, I have to concede, it’s a bit like Sleaford Mods… but really not at the same time. We’ll return to this later. But for now, he’s the reason I’m here having been hooked by that last show here. And tonight is sold out. It’s the first night of the three-day One For the Road festival, which is an annual event here, and has been since 2013 – although as far as I can recall, this is my first time here.

When I arrive, I’m held up waiting at the door because the woman in front of me, who’s probably about 60, is getting stroppy with the door staff, first because she doesn’t want her to take the stub from her ticket, and then because she doesn’t want her wristband putting on, or too tight, and starts walking off before said wristband has been attached to said wrist. I report this aberrant behaviour because it’s in some way illustrative of a sector of tonight’s audience, emblematic of the world post-lockdown, where people have seemingly forgotten how to interact or how to behave, particularly people of a certain age. Yes, it’s sold out, so inevitably it’s rammed, but I’m shocked by the number of times I get nudged and knocked by people moving backwards or sideways without considering the space around them, and the fact there are groups of people holding conversations at the bar when there are others wanting to get served.

Emilia Slade, who’s up first, and as such opens the weekend’s proceedings, is playing without her full band, is here in the capacity of acoustic singer songwriter, and serves up some emo-hued introspection and confessionals, with a side-serving of environmentalism, and a cover ‘The Obituaries’ by The Mezingers. Texas Forever, whose main purpose of existing is to play this festival each year, are the heaviest and most ferocious guitar band on the bill, playing some fairly fiery hardcore, but with a Yorkshire twist. Their most interesting feature is the dynamic of the twin vocals, which find guitarist Jonny Gill, of Lyon Estates and (formerly?) On The Ropes, adding countervocals to powerful effect, and it really sets them apart in their field. But as most of their songs are only a minute or two long, there’s a fair bit of chat to fill out a half-hour et.

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Emilia Slade / Texas Forever

It’s not just Texas Forever: for a festival that’s such a York scene thing, it’s noticeable how few of the local acts I’ve seen elsewhere, and the same is true of the crowd. As I come here often, and am accustomed to running into people, it’s rare that the only people I know or even recognise are the venue staff, and one gets the impression that for many of those present, this is their sole annual outing. This makes the presence of Meryl Streek even more incongruous. And – spoiler alert – Meryl Streek is incongruity defined, in any context.

When the festival started in 2013, country / folk / Americana acts were ubiquitous in York. Heavyset. take us back to those days. One of the songs has a guitar line that sounds like a fiddle. The punctuationally frustrating Bad Nights Sleep – a beardy six-piece – serve up some middling, middle of the road 00s emo punk pop crossover. Rarely have three guitars (plus bass) given so little impact. But then, they have middling, middle-of-the road song titles like ‘Call Your Mother’ and ‘Dance a Two Step’, and ‘The Kids Need New Shoes’. Seeing the middle-age women swing their handbags and the anorak-sporting older guys swaying to this, I begin to relish the prospect of them shitting their pants to Meryl Streek’s rage. ‘Infinity Welcomes Careful Drivers’ dives into a Pink Floyd prog wankfest of intertwining solos, and they have a song about being a rock n roll band that sounds like the fucking Commitments. Towards the end of the set, they do land a song that’s half decent, a bit Oceansize, a bit Biffy Clyro, but it’s not exactly adequate compensation. And yet there are people – older men – rushing for set lists and to have their festival posters signed.

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The Heavyset. / Bad Nights Sleep

Credit to these crets, they mostly stepped back rather than left, mean that Meryl Streek got to pay to a packed house. He did so in near darkness, too, with the entire lighting rig off, and turning off the illuminated stage backdrop off for large portions of the set, with the sole illumination being a torch, and even then, only occasionally. But , while in near-darkness for over half an hour… what a set! Largely culled from the new album, Stories They Don’t Teach You in School, released just this week, it’s forty-five minutes of relentless, explosive rantology.

My first thought, in terms of the Sleaford Mods comparisons, was that while the Mods are all about the anti-performance shtick, Meryl Streek puts on a performance. But watching him in a smaller venue tonight, there’s a sense that this isn’t a performance at all. The relentless pacing back and forth, the frenzied energy that emanates from every pore as he spits out his words at a hundred syllables a second, it’s art, but it’s not show: this is necessity, this is how it has to be, because he can’t be any other way. Streek isn’t doing this for fun, he’s doing it because he has to, and the relentless stream of vitriol is the only way he can stay even remotely sane. It’s powerful – and then some. Every second, you get the impression he’s reliving some trauma or another, and he channels it and channels it, and when he runs out of words or feels he needs to psyche himself up for the next lyrical onslaught, there’s a phlegm-shifting, guttural “wwurrgh!!!” before he resumes his endless stomping.

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Meryl Streek

A mash-up of dance, trance, punk, and shoegaze, there’s a lot happening in the laptop backing track, which is also littered with sampled, often lifted from new reports on murders and suicides, common focuses of his songs. There are no two ways about it: Streek focuses on dark topics, and some would likely say his material should carry trigger warnings. But fuck that: life doesn’t come with trigger warnings and we need to face up to this stuff.

The fact he’s made multiple charts, including the UK album chart in the week of the release of Stories They Don’t Teach You in School is immense, and proves there’s a market for DIY music that’s ugly, brutal, and speaks honestly of the human condition.

He spits and snarls his way through ‘The Chancer’, and ‘Kelly’ is both powerful and devastating, and closes with the ripping pairing of ‘Death the Landlord’ and anthemic single cut ‘If This is Life’. Never has such passionate rage and relentless negativity felt so magnificent.

Christopher Nosnibor

I reckon I’ve probably said that both The Bricks and JUKU are my favourite current York band in the last couple of years. How can both things be true? Well, essentially because it’s too close to call. But that means that even without Strange Pink headlining, tonight’s lineup is guaranteed to be killer, one not to be missed. It also means that this is a face-off… who will win?

On the other side of town, GANS are playing at The Crescent. No doubt off the back of their supporting Pixies at The Barbican, they’ve won some new fans, but this is definitely the pick of the live action tonight, with four quality bands for a fiver – yes, a FIVER! – less than the price of a pint. It’s madness, particularly given that every act on the bill is individually worth way more than that.

The Bricks are headline quality on any night, and this is no exception. If I’m not mistaken, it’s been a couple of months since they’ve ventured out, and it seems that Gemma Kennedy has been building some pent-up energy and tension during that time, meaning that tonight, she’s on fire, not only with a commanding vocal performance, but a dominant stage presence, which sees her kick, lunge, stomp, and charge back and forth with barely a moment to breathe. They open with ‘Icarus’, and it’s clear from the very start that they’re on peak form – not that they have any other level of form, but tonight they seem to find an extra level. ‘Snake’ provides the slower segment after a new song which Gemma describes as their ‘indie’ song. ‘Modern Mirror’ powers home as a scratchy anti-AI anthem. She lines up the sheets with the lyrics to second new song, ‘Life Lesson’, where The Fall meets Hole. It’s mint – of course. But not a Polo, the mint with a hole – it’s definitely at least Extra Strong or XXX. Because they’re never anything less than awesome.

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The Bricks

A JUKU set feels like less of a gig than an event, and if we’re following the mint comparison, these guys are the Fisherman’s Friend mints of music. They don’t play frequently, but when they do… woah. What they do is full throttle rock ‘n’ roll, and they slam down riff after riff, a relentless riff machine, and while Naomi’s as cool and nonchalant as you like at the mic, Dan’s off in the back going full psycho Neanderthal, and the drummer and lead guitarist are just getting on with it, standing as if in the eye of a storm as a sonic maelstrom tears from the stage. The strolling swagger of ‘Hot Mess’ follows a blistering ‘What’ Penultimate song ‘Out of Control’ is straight up 90s grunge, but at 120 decibels and a hundred miles an hour. They’re not reinventing rock ‘n’ roll, by any means. But they are rediscovering the power of the volume control. Between them and The Bricks, my favourite York band remains a solid tie – but JUKU are by far the loudest York band, and they are an absolute rush.

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Juku

Where do you go from here? They’re not a band you’d want to Follow… unless you’re Flesh Planet. They’re kinda grunge, kinda noise rock, a bit industrial, and boast an immense bass sound… and an immense sound overall. The sound is dense and textured, and the arrangements are laced with synths which add depth and a certain smoothness, and it’s crisp and tight but with serrated edges. The bassist takes much of his inspiration from Lemmy, both sonically and visually. Cool: if you’re going to draw on influences, why not take your lessons from true legends? Here, we move from mints to wine-tasting analogies, because Flesh Planet offer a spicy blend that’s rich, dep, and dark, with hints of later Depeche Mode, Alice in Chains, NIN and Filter all in the mix The singer’s got a baggy, stretched, fluffy jumper and bleached hair, and clearly loves Kurt Cobain, but the vocals offer hints of Brian Molko when he’s not being screamy. But they’re so much more than an influence pic ‘n’ mix band. They’ve not only got some stomping tunes, but a tangible chemistry and a rare, raw energy. They’ve barely been going eighteen months, and shows like this should see them playing to substantially larger audiences in no time.

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Flesh Planet

And then there’s Strange Pink -featuring local(ish) legends Sam Forrest and Dom Smith. It’s been a fair while since the days of Nine Black Alps, but Forrest hasn’t been idle in the intervening years, currently fronting both noisy grunge duo Sewage Farm and Strange Pink, a quintessential grunge trio who take their cues from Sonic Youth and Nirvana. ‘Seventeen’ is a sad nostalgia song that brings the perfect balance of slackerism and the poppier end of Nirvana’s sound, and encapsulates everything that’s great about Strange Pink. As seasoned musicians, they understand the nature of the dynamic of the power trio, and the fact that there’s no space for a weak link or to carry anyone, and sure enough, they’re each on it, the sound driven by Dom’s powerhouse drumming. Holy hell, that man give it his all and then ten per cent. This is how it’s done.

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And to see four acts of this quality, where not only the standard but the energy – and the volume – is maintained throughout the night, is an intense experience.

Christopher Nosnibor

Michael Jackson’s ‘Thriller’ is playing just before Kid Kid Squid start, and I find myself on a rare reflective trip on how times have changed. I was in primary school – aged eight – when it was released, my school reopened on the evening that the full-length video was aired on the BBC so we could all watch it on a TV on a trolley in reception. Even at that young age, it felt like a moment in musical history. No musical release is such a global event now. Not even half-time at the Superbowl has a sense of occasion which comes close. Culturally – in no small part on account of the advent of streaming, but also the absence of music on television now, which means that the promotional video has far less reach and impact – music has come to be treated like sonic wallpaper. Do people really listen to Ed Sheeran and Taylor Swift, or is their bland fare simply amiable background? Come 2015, a headteacher is forced to apologise after showing the ‘Thriller’ video to some primary-age pupils (age seven and eight) because, according to their complaining parents, they suffered ‘night terrors’ afterwards.

I expect the members of Kid Kid Squid, David and Katy – who emerged from the rocked-up dance covers act The DDK – will remember the release of ‘Thriller’ well. How well they remember the 90s is probably another matter. It’s evident from their penchant for banging beats that they spent some time having it large during the rave years. Having tried out their brand of driving techno with live guitar at an Electronic Music Open Mic (EMOM) night a few months ago, this is the duo’s first gig proper, and they’ve got things pretty tight. The first track is a bit Utah Saints, but with more of drum ‘n’ bass leaning – and the drums and bass are both thunderous. Are they rock with rave beats, or rave with rock guitars? However you slant it, the sound is outstanding. Crisp and clear, the beats are pounding and the heavily processed guitar is like a tweaking Roland TR303. Midway through, they drop their eponymous track and it simply explodes both in energy and volume – and while the chorus of ‘We ain’t no kid and we ain’t no squid!’ might not be the pinnacle of poeticism, it’s good fun – and factually accurate. These things matter. The set culminates in a frenzy of flange. That’s good fun, too, and that’s a fair summary of what KKS are about: not so serious, hi-NRG, fun times.

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Kid Kid Squid

I’m not sure what happened to the Old Concordia – apart from the Polish-built sailing training vessel which capsized and sank off the coast of Brazil in 2010. Sturdy drumming and soaring guitar definite their alt-rock sound. They’re solid and then some, and it’s a remarkably confident debut (they’ve both played before, and together, but this is their first outing as a two-piece). Atmospheric passages fill the space between songs, thus avoiding awkward silence or – worse – awkward chat and banter. They must have poured some hours into rehearsing to come out this fully formed. I’ve no idea where the bass was coming from. The drummer isn’t wearing headphones, so there’s nothing to indicate a click track or sequencing, but there must be something happening behind the scenes. Maybe it’s simply the power of the mind and some kind of magic. But what’s behind the scenes is immaterial, really. Out front, we get blistering guitars, chunky riffs and some of the most incredible drumming. Verdict in short: amazing. Horsemusic have done it again in introducing us to another act worthy of national attention.

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New Concordia

Megafragma are a relatively new act, but comprising some old faces, including, on guitars, Alexander King, of Glass / The Sound of Glass – quite possibly one of the most preposterously pretentious bands I’ve ever witnessed. But hey, he’s only the guitarist and backing vocalist, right? Right.

They rock up in red jumpsuits: that’s ok. The Wharf Street Galaxy Band, one of the finest acts to evert emerge from York / Leeds wore red boiler suits. And these guys are tight. Polished. Slick… They’re an amalgamation of post-rock, post metal, post post… which is actually pretty cool. But they do go a bit punk-pop and demonstrate some emo leanings, which is less so. Still, I could let that go… There’s a niggle here, and I need to chew on it while I dissect.

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Megafragma

More than just a click track, they have electronic drums augmenting the live kit. The bass is a bit buried in the mix, but still, they sound super-slick, anthemic, arena-standard and the drums – which are technically faultless – are well up in the mix and propel the songs along with a dynamic force. This is not your average pub-gig band, and the set is loaded with the wow factor. But the songs… pause and exhale… are quite forgettable. As the set progresses, it becomes increasingly apparent that this is very much a case of kit over content. More like Middlingfragma. They sound immense, but hollow. Technically superlative, but missing some essential ingredients, namely soul, and passion.

I can’t grumble too hard: three high-quality bands for £0, and pints in proper glasses for £5.20. This is where it’s at.

Christopher Nosnibor

Two of the bands on tonight’s bill are fairly regular features here on Aural Aggravation: Knitting Circle have established themselves as solid staples of the York scene as exponents of pissed-off, political post-punk, while WENCH! originally from Hull but now a Leeds band on account of two-thirds of their members having relocated, are always worth making the effort to turn out for whenever they’re in the locale. But what’s particularly noteworthy about tonight’s lineup is that not only do we have three female-fronted acts, but more women on stage than men. This matters, because female representation is a topic which has been cycling in discussion for a few years now, and becomes particularly prominent when festival lineups are announced. There’s no shortage of women in music, either in bands or as solo performers, so why are so many gigs, and festivals in particular, so male-dominated? That’s perhaps a rhetorical question, but still. What’s more, it’s becoming increasingly apparent that women often rock harder than men. Perhaps it’s because they feel they have more to prove. Perhaps it’s because they’ve more to be angry about. There’s a lot to be angry about right now, of course, and that’s a dissertation in itself. I’m angry, as are most people I know. But as a white, middle class, and (reluctantly) middle-aged male, I recognise I don’t have centuries of patriarchal oppression and daily sexism and misogyny to push back on.

Up first, Knitting Circle open with ‘Where’s the Culture?’, which sets the tone in terms of the conversation sand the musical form – catchy, scratchy, and challenging the (patriarchal) status quo. ‘I am the Fox’ (a song against fox-hunting, told from the perspective of the fox) is particularly tense and bristly, part of its guitar line leaning heavily on ‘Not Great Men’ by Gang of Four. The fact that Pete Dale can actually play cutty, trebly guitar lines which are of a standard which puts him in the same frame as Andy Gill is testament to his guitar mastery. While there are new songs in their nine-song set, the fact that only one of them – set closer, ‘Losing My Eggs’ – is from their EP, and single, ‘Safe Routes’, which they dedicate to the RNLI has otherwise been released evidences the pace of their creative flow.

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Knitting Circle

It’s worth taking a momentary side-step here. This song feels even more poignant and important than ever: a few days ago, right-wing agitator Daniel Thomas, who seems to think that forming a masked militia is the pinnacle of patriotism, was filmed slashing a dinghy in the English Channel. Not by a news crew, but by an accomplice. And he posted it on social media to demonstrate his fierce opposition to ‘illegal’ immigrants – but in court pleaded not guilty to the actions he himself had shared evidence of. Then cried like a child when remanded in custody. Of course. But these so-called ‘illegal’ immigrants… where are the legal routes? They don’t exist. Meaning, we currently have no safe routes. But we do have a lot of people fleeing war… and then these right-wing fuckheads decide that the RNLI – an emergency service run by volunteers – are the bad guys for rescuing people from the sea, and are legitimate targets for abuse and intimidation. How low can you get, eh? This is why we need Knitting Circle more than ever – to remind us that not everyone is a nasty piece of shit with a racist agenda when things get bleak. And things are bleak right now.

Oh, but Under the Influence are an absolute revelation. Woah. The ‘UTI’ acronym is no accident, of course. Their objective is to sting. And they do, hitting hard with their brand of fast and furious authentic hardcore punk / grunge crossover. It’s not hard to see why the anarcho-noise Sheffield trio have scored support slots with the likes of Subhumans and Discharge and a Rebellion booking. Maisie’s vocals are a combination of ear-splitting screams and full-lunged roaring… and she plays her guitar so hard that her bottom E string goes in third song, ‘Dead Babies’. “Bollocks,” and “Fuck it,” she says, like a true plain-speaking Northerner. After some deliberation, she humbly accepts the offer of the loan of Pete from Knitting Circle’s guitar with which to play the rest of the set. ‘7 Naans’ – about ordering takeaway – shouldn’t be terrifying, but with a rabid Courtney Love howl it is positively nerve-shattering. They’re passionate, sincere, and not without humour. They have a song called ‘Vegan Reich’ simply because they hate the band Vegan Reich (which is a perfectly sound reason in my opinion). Eyes wide, Maisie spits and screeches words at a rate of nineteen to the dozen, backed by some ferocious drumming and thunderous bass.

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Under the Influence

Are we ready to be WENCHED? Well, as ready as well ever be ready to be hit with a shovel after being slammed with the two-by-four that was UTI. This is a band that brings all the attack and play so, so hard: the energy is infectious, and it’s like an electric current circulating through your body. During the very first song of the set, bassist Hebe loses her strap and singing drummer Kit sheds a cymbal. They don’t miss a beat or a note. Musically, they’re outstanding, and different in their compositional approach, with the bass often fulfilling the lead role. There are dual vocals, too, shared between guitarist Sev, and Kit, whose style is – at least in places, quite technical and almost jazzy, but played with metal force. Other times, she leans forward over her drums with an ogre-like posture and just fucking goes all out, and it’s brilliant to watch – not just her playing, but the interaction between the three and how they coalesce to create something so immensely powerful. They’re also disarmingly direct and spontaneous in between songs. This shouldn’t be mistaken for being amateurish by any means, but gives an insight into a band which is keeping it real in the truest sense. What you see is what you get. And what you see is three women who believe in social justice and not just women’s rights and feminist issues, but human rights and making the world a better place.

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WENCH!

‘Deep Fake’ may be slower, with a psych-hued swing, but it’s certainly no gentler, and their set is a combination of hooks and rage. They blast through the songs in significantly less than the allotted time, but they’ve done the job and then some.

For all of the anger, the rage which emanated from the stage, tonight felt like one of the most uplifting, unifying events imaginable. The bands – all articulating dissatisfaction with the status quo, speaking out against shit governments and shit behaviour – brought, in their own ways, a positive message and a sense that together, we can make things better, and in the meantime, we can have a blast venting through music. In the face of everything, we have to have hope. Tonight gave a vital reminder that we do. It also evidences why we shouldn’t aspire to keep politics out of music. Because politics affects all of us, every day, and using a platform to take a stand is a powerful, and positive thing. Here, we stand unified in hope, and against hate.

Christopher Nosnibor

Llama Mollo have a lot of family and friends. And they’ve brought them all down. It feels more like a second cousin’s birthday party than five minutes after doors open for a gig showcasing a disparate bunch of bands when I arrive. My first thought is of how the grannies will take to Bitchcraft. My second thought was ‘good for them’. They’ve bought tickets and made the effort, which is more than can be said for many on a lot occasions, and maybe they’ll even have a good time.

The acoustic indie duo have some tidy tunes with poetical lyrics and deft guitar lines, and if they’re nervous making their debut, they don’t show it beyond the occasional awkward-sounding laugh. The reverb-soaked guitar part for ‘Inconspicuous’ has hints of Chris Isaak’s ‘Wicked Game’, and the song sees them share vocal duties for the first time in their seven-song set. In an unexpected plot twist, Lawrence (guitar and vocals) switches to electric guitar and takes the lead on the vocals for the last song, and there’s a drum machine pumping from the PA. ‘Mr Blue Shoes’ is post-punky and makes for quite the shift in every way, and, seemingly from out of nowhere, tells us that this is an act who have a lot up their sleeve, and much potential to explore. A very promising first outing, and one to add to the watchlist for 2027.

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Llama Mollo

BitchCraft spent their uni years developing their skills, and recently relocated to London to further evolve and to see if they can progress. On the evidence of tonight’s hometown return – holy shit. Leaps and bounds, leaps and bounds. There have been some moves in their ranks. Their new singer, Lily, is the former drummer who would previously switch with singer Amelie to front a couple of songs, and stepping up to take the mic on a full-time basis she’s really come into her own. It’s not just the vocals – which are so, so powerful, and she’s got a proper grunge roar that sends shivers down the spine and sets the hairs on the back of your neck aquiver – but she is a commanding presence who dominates the stage, and the entire room. The new drummer is powerful and energetic, too. The result is a set that’s raw, grungy, and finds them playing better than ever. New song ‘Loser’ hints at a poppier direction, and has swing as well as crunch. And then they close with a cover of L7’s ‘Shitlist.’ They absolutely nail it. They’re pure quality, and deserve a bright future in the big smoke.

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BitchCraft

There’s a certain element of controlled chaos about Chaffinch set – and a certain element of chaos without the control. The jarring interplay of the twin guitars sees them trading shards of treble over thick, rolling basslines and stop-start drums. The song structures aren’t conventional or even necessarily obvious, and there are parts which are semi-improvised, and not for the first time, I’m reminded of Shellac in they combine math-rock and noise-rock, discord and angularity. There’s not a moment where all four of them are on the stage (which makes getting a shot of the whole band a challenge, and the guitars are more often than not played in front of the stage and there are trailing cables and instrument swaps… although at least on this outing there’s enough concrete in front of the bass drum to keep the kit in place instead of encroaching forward towards the edge of what is a particularly bijou stage. But herein lies the joy of a Chaffinch set: there’s a physicality, a kineticism, to the performance, and just as the songs are in a state of continual flux, so there is perpetual movement on (and in front of) the stage, making for a hyperstimulating and highly entertaining experience.

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Chaffinch

Due to a late reshuffling of the schedule, Manchester’s Oort Clod, who should have been the main support before BitchCraft, find themselves in the headline slot. No pressure, then. They do a decent job of it, too, encouraged by a supportive and welcoming crowd, a respectable number of who have stuck around from the start. This is one of the things which makes these Utterly Fuzzled nights what they are: people turn up and are open to hearing different stuff, accepting they won’t love all the acts equally but providing a warm and accommodating atmosphere. It’s a DIY microscene unto itself, in some ways resembling that which centred around CHUNK in Leeds a few years ago, and the likes of which is rare – but absolutely vital for showcasing new and up-and-coming and niche acts.

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Oort Clod

Oort Clod present a set of two distinct halves: during the first, they’re a fairly middling jangly indie band in the British tradition of the mid-80s to early 90s. They avoid being twee, but are good fun. And then there’s the second half, which sees them turn towards a style that’s more US indie / college rock of the mid- to late-nineties. It’s a bit looser, more Pavementy. The switch is occasioned by a poetry intermission, during which bassist Richie, whose last gig it is before he goes travelling and exploring a career in writing reads a couple of pieces from his chapbook. It’s a bold move, which some would probably consider a bit wanky, but they wear their arty and literary leanings well, and with an admirable confidence. He is, after all, wearing a brocade jacket and thoroughly beaten-up hat perched atop his head, and if the wild amp feedback mars the moment somewhat, the fact they style it out with humour reveals the character of the band – and it makes them a good fit for Fuzzled, where there are no divas, no dickheads, and everything runs to time. And it’s a 10pm finish. All the win.

Christopher Nosnibor

This is a very different kind of gig vibe. I arrive way before there’s any music due on with a view to giving my brain a rest from stress with a book and a few beers. The Duck and Drake is a cracking boozer which boasts no fewer than fifteen cask ales. There are three gluten free offerings, for those who need to know these things, and several vegan brews. The Wensleydale Fire It Up IPA at 5% is a particular standout, but they’re all well-kept and the Old Peculier is superb.

Personal disclosure: I wasn’t feeling like turning out tonight. My motivation and confidence were through the floor this morning, and the prospect of heading off to Leeds on my own to an unfamiliar venue while the reliability of the trains, particularly getting home, was in question, had done little to compel me to venture out. But since Noisepicker – whose last two albums, both released via Exile on Mainstream – I had reviewed and enjoyed, had made the effort to come up from London to play a free show, and labelmates Might had made the effort to come from bloody Hanover, I knew I’d regret it if I yielded to my urge to retreat.

Shortly after my arrival, the pub’s invaded by a board of corporate tossers on a treasure hunt by way of a works night out, but they fuck off before too long, and I get to sup my pint while listening to the soundchecks, and it becomes increasingly apparent that I’ve made the right decision. Around nine, a cluster of beardies, hairies, and folks in black filter in and take up around the bar. And then the music starts.

Noisepicker are an intermittent band, and a classic example of a band who fit making music around dayjobs and whatnot. There was a seven-year gap between Peace Off and the latest, The Earth Will Swallow the Sun, and they’re not a big touring band. But on stage, they present an almost telepathic cohesion from the outset. ‘No Man Lies Blameless’ lands second as they fire up the heavy blues riffery after a slow, drawling start. Harry Armstrong’s phlegm and whiskey (or Newcastle Brown) vocals growl and howl all the pain, anguish, and anger at the state of humanity, and there are times in the set where he and drummer Kieran Murphy articulate this with raw primal screams, and it’s magnificently cathartic. ‘Chew’ starts almost jazzy before hitting its stride with a thick riff. When they slow it down and strip it back, as on ‘A Taste of My Dying’, it’s got a hefty swagger. ‘The Earth Will Swallow the Sun’ brings a barrage of percussion, Armstrong playing drum and guitar at the same time. There’s a cover of ‘War’ which kicks ass, delivered with guts and gusto, and landing between Motorhead and ZZ Top. They go low and slow for the set closer, and they kill it. The rapport between the two players is apparent, as is the fact they’re clearly loving doing what they do.

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Noisepicker

Making their UK debut, Might start their performance off the stage, with flashing lights, smoke and dark atmospherics, before a piano backing track starts… And then the drums kick in, followed by the and guitars. The sound is nothing short of mind shattering in its density. It’s hardly surprising with that towering backline which dominates the stage and this small room. They’ve not travelled light. On record, they sound immense. Live… they take the sound to a whole other dimension.

They way they’ve worked the sound – and the visuals – is remarkable. I’d been curious as to how the duo of Ana Muhi (vocals and bass) and Sven Missullis (guitar, vocals, drums) would contrive to multi-task, and what I first thought was a drum machine actually appears to be a recording of a live drum track, which is up in the mix at a volume which corresponds with a live drum kit. Consequently, it feels like there are three people on stage – and what’s more, it almost looks that way, too, as there’s a silhouette of the drums being played which – unless my eyes deceive me – is in perfect sync with the audio. And with Nosepicker’s kit on stage behind them, and an abundance of smoke, you actually get a sense of their being an extra body up there.

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Might

They churn out some monster riffs, which churn and grind, but there’s more than brute force and brutal volume happening here – there’s texture and layering, and what I can only describe as sonic alchemy. And what they conjure is something which renders the cover art for their second album, Abyss, as an aural experience, and it’s one in which time is suspended and you find yourself completely immersed and on another plane.

Stripping it back to a drone on Mrs Poise, the percussion comes from Sven striking the back of his guitar while it’s laid across his knees. The acoustic-led penultimate song ‘Tightrope Walk’ is almost folky, but nevertheless intense, Ana’s vocal delivery delicate and utterly captivating, before they close with ‘Zero’ – the final track on their eponymous debut – and it’s immense.

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Might

On the face of it, this – the first night of a little low-key package tour –was a pretty ordinary event. A couple of bands playing in a pub in a corner of Leeds. But, pitched on the premise of being 100% DIY, with free entry and serving to provide a drop of an antidote to the relentless shitness of the world, it proved to be so much more. The bands both gave it their all. The audience was small, but appreciative. They chatted with the bands, and bought T-shirts. They bought beer. And ultimately, it was pretty damn special. No corporate shit, no pissy lager in plastic cups. Grassroots music at its very best. No-one’s getting rich off this financially, but in terms of the humanity, the life-enrichment, and the inspiriting qualities of a night like this, we all end the night with wealth beyond measure.

It’s a decent lineup and a pleasant evening. I’m down early doors and sitting with a pint of Vocation Heart & Soul listening to Slint and Drop Ninteens and Boris over the PA, and wondering where the fuck is everyone? It does seem to be a thing now, particularly at certain venues, where people will be outside the room until the band starts, and spend the time between acts outside, whether it be the bar or beer garden, as well. On a personal level, there are positives to this: it means I can make notes and sup in relative peace, and maintain a decent spot near the front, but it does seem a bit odd to see barely a handful of people around and a near-deserted bar, and with the number of people in the room barely touching double figures when the first act is due on, it feels like something’s amiss.

Still, Danny Barton’s a seasoned pro, and he’ll play to five people or five hundred without there being any difference in his performance. It seems like some time since he’s has been out as Wolf Solent, having been doing Sewage Farm stuff with Sam Forrest (Nine Black Alps) in recent months. They’re the kings of anti-promo, announcing the release of their new album by stating that they’re ‘deeply ashamed to announce that fuck it is our fifth and worst album yet. It’s out on 24 april as limited edition CD and all forms of digital garbage.’ For the record, Fuck It is brilliant. It’s still infinitely more promo than he gives Wolf Solent, and his solo work is a very different proposition from the roaring rock ‘n’ roll of Sewage Farm, which very much has all the hallmarks of a bedroom-based project – low-key, lo-fi slowcore with pedals, sequenced backing and drum machine. Switching his acoustic guitar for an electroacoustic 12-string, he conjures a swirling drone by way of a backdrop to his drawling vocals, delivered while hiding behind beard and hair.

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Wolf Solent

Speedreaders have often been represented by Dave Mudie performing solo on recent outings, meaning it’s been a while since I’ve caught a full-band set (my records indicate it was July last year, when they supported Needlework, and went on before Divorce Finance, who I’m still angry about. I know, I need to get over it, but fuck me. Anyway, Speedreaders. They’re consistent, they’re tight, they’re a quality act. There’s not much movement in terms of their set list, and no new material, but what they have is performed with assurance. They’re not a chatty band, and, on discovering Dave’s left his capo in the dressing room, there’s a protracted – and very quiet – pause. There’s considerable air between the notes during their slow, introspective, sad songs. They pick up the tempo for the final song, ‘Down Round’, which is a bit Wedding Present circa Bizarro, and ends abruptly and precisely on time.

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Speedreaders

Brighton’s Glasshouse Red Spider Mite are making their first trip to York, and they don’t seem too distraught to be playing to around twenty-five people: quite the opposite, in fact. They seem pretty chuffed that there is an audience, and an enthusiastic and supportive one at that, and for those still present (it has thinned rather after the local supports), they turn in a solid and dynamic set, delivered with energy and enthusiasm. It starts with a cacophonous samplefest, and there’s dialogue and narrative about spiders / mites spun between almost every song.

The liberal use of samples is reminiscent of Maybeshewill, although Glasshouse Red Spider Mite have vocals. Their overall sound straddles post-rock and shoegaze. Tonight’s set presents a band which has evolved significantly since their debut EP, and this could not be rendered with greater clarity than when they delve back to play ‘Everyone Loves You’ from What Do You Mean The Monster?… Hahaha… released in May of last year, and the new song which follows, which is a driving 90s-flavoured blast of energy that hints and Ride and Loop.

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Glasshouse Red Spider Mite

Comparing tonight’s performance with their recorded output to date suggests that Glasshouse Red Spider Mite are a band at a crossroads, and in the midst of a giant evolutionary leap. They sound absolutely fantastic, and seem like a band with a lot to give.

Time will tell, of course, but heading home in a heavy autumnal drizzle, it felt like this was one of those ‘I saw this band before they got big playing to barely any people’ moments. My mate always loves to tell me how we saw Editors at Fibbers in York play to three men and a dog before their debut album, and I saw The Young Gods play to barely more than that when touring Super Ready (and they were fucking incredible). Glasshouse Red Spider Mite have it all, and look and sound like they have the potential captivate a substantial crowd at The Brudenell. And if there’s any justice, in their next tour, they will.

Following the release of the new album from Brazilian duo DEAFKIDS, Cicatrizes Do Futuro (Scars of the Future), on Neurot Recordings earlier this year, they’re about to embark on a colossal tour of the EU and UK.

The nine-track album forges a path beyond the conventions and boundaries of static musical genres with early reviews calling it “utterly glorious” (Echoes and Dust), “tribalistic, guttural and utterly danceable” (NARC) and "on furious form as they blend glowering, glurping riffs and insanely danceable percussion" (Metal Hammer). In an Album Of The Week review The Quietus say, "Sonically, it’s both battlefield and zone of ecstatic, cathartic release" adding, “They remind us that these rhythmic patterns have evaded colonial regimentation through generations of diaspora… fir[es] forwards and back through music history while sounding like they’re mastering technology as well as breaking it.” The band declares, “This is probably our best material yet and we really hope you all enjoy it; play these songs loud and dance a lot!"

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A huge run of live shows throughout October and November have also been revealed today – dates and details below.

The band adds, "see you on the road. We want to play everywhere, and everyone is invited to come to our concerts. After 16 years, this is just the beginning, there’s much more to come. Much love from Brazil.” Tickets are available here via the Neurot website.

DEAFKIDS
CICATRIZES DO FUTURO TOUR
EU/UK AUTUMN 2026

10/02/2026 OUT.FEST – Barreiro, PT
10/03/2026 DINAAMO – Barroselas, PT
10/08/2026 Stapeltor – Duisburg, DE
10/09/2026 Soulcrusher Festival – Nijmegen, NL
10/12/2026 The Globe – Glossop, UK
10/13/2026 The Tin Music and Arts – Coventry, UK
10/15/2026 Coughtan’s Bar – Cork, IE
10/16/2026 Bello Bar – Dublin, IE
10/18/2026 Boom – Leeds, UK
10/19/2026 Strange Brew – Bristol, UK
10/20/2026 New Cross Inn – London, UK
10/21/2026 Klub9030 – Ghent, UK
10/23/2026 MS Stubnitz – Hamburg, DE
10/24/2026 Inkost – Malmo, SE
10/25/2026 Monument – Goteborg, SE
10/27/2026 Råhuset – Copenhagen, DK
10/28/2026 NeueZukunft – Berlin, DE
10/30/2026 Circolo Gagarin – Busto Arsizio, IT
10/31/2026 Rote Fabrik – Zurich, CH 
11/01/2026 Cave12 – Geneva, CH
11/02/2026 La Poudriere – Belfort, FR w/ Eyehategod 
11/03/2026 Schungfabrik – Luxembourg, LU w/ Eyehategod
11/04/2026 Glazart – Paris, FR w/ Eyehategod
11/05/2026 Magasin 4 – Brussels, BE
11/06/2026 Le Guess Who? – Utrecht, NL

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Photo: Ivi Maiga Bugrimenko