Archive for the ‘Live’ Category

Gans / Mince / Richard Carlson Band – The Fulford Arms, York, 8th April 2025

Posted: 12 April 2025 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

This isn’t one of the three bands for six quid efforts I’ve been raving about, but three bands from out of town for eleven quid is hardly extortion, even on a Tuesday night, and Gans might have much social media presence, but they definitely have some traction building. Bearing in mind that it’s the Easter break and many students at both of the universities have gone home, the place is noticeably busy, and there’s a conspicuous number of really tall bastards in tonight, young and old. And while I’m inching towards being an old bastard myself, I shall never be tall, but will be eternally aggravated by the towering twats who step to the front row in a venue with a stage that’s barely a foot high. That’s just a personal peeve, and there’s not much you can do about biology.

But there is something you can do about being a decent band, and I’ll admit my expectations are pretty low at the start of the set by the Richard Carlson Band, from Sheffield. It’s not the sax per se, but the slightly awkward presentation, the smooth jazzy leanings, my instinct to summarise this as ‘nice; and move on… but while their set is jazzy in part, it’s also varied, in places evoking Ian Dury, in others Duran Duran circa Seven and the Ragged Tiger… ‘Barrymore’s Pool Party’ goes darker and calls to mind Girls Vs Boys and The Fall, only with sax. They’re a five-piece with two – or three guitars, the third guitarist sometimes does keyboard, and they’ve no bass, instead finding the second guitar being run through a pedal that turns it into a bass. It’s unusual, and their set is both interesting and well-played.

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Richard Carlson Band

Mince, from Leeds, are also a quintet, and appropriate for their name, serve up some fairly standard meat and two veg punky fair. In fairness, they do at least do it with some energy. A few songs in the whip out a choppy guitar that’s pure Gang of Four and for a moment they’re ace. Then it’s back to sounding like The Godfathers crossed with generic indie / punk. The pace picks up as the set progresses: the standard doesn’t, descending into shit shouty indie. The last song, their upcoming single, is the best they have by a mile. It’s solid, but they’ve set the bar low.

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Mince

Gans are something else, and that something is superlative. Hard-hitting two-piece acts have become a prominent feature of the rock scene in the last decade, with Royal Blood blowing open a fair few doors before blowing their cool in spectacular fashion. Being rather less preoccupied with classic rock and more about raw punk energy, Gans are more reminiscent of Slaves before they sold out to the Man and became Soft Play. Gans set out to entertain, and absolutely give it their all, making a massive bloody racket in the process, with only bass and drums. I say ‘only’, but that bass sound is immense, and the bassist can’t keep still for a second: he positively vibrates with energy, while the drummer… kicking out rolling rhythms that have the glammy swagger of Adam and the Ants and The Glitter Band, he plays hard and with style: watching him, I continually return to the question ‘how does the man breathe, let alone sing while doing this?’

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Gans

Although they’ve only released five songs to date, they’ve got plenty more in the bag, and there’s no filler to be found here. They are truly a joy to watch, and they maintain the energy from start to finish throughout their high-intensity forty-minute set. Catch them in a small venue while you still can.

deathlounge / Soma Crew / Threat Detector – The Basement, York, 29th March 2025

Posted: 30 March 2025 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

deathlounge showed considerable promise when they featured early doors at an all-dayer late last year, at one of the final gigs hosted at The York Vaults, so to witness their EP launch feels like a significant stage in their progression.

I don’t appear to have attended a gig at The Basement, underneath the City Screen cinema since September 2016, and as their website no longer exists and their Facebook Page hasn’t seen a new post in almost three years, I had assumed it was done as a live music venue. There have been a few significant and positive changes to the layout, but the lighting still isn’t the best. Still, it’s good to be here, and three bands for six quid – less than the price of a pint here – is a no-brainer for some Saturday night live music entertainment.

In September 2016, it was Soma Crew opening for The Lucid Dream, and on noting this fact, I recall that Soma Crew were also the last band I saw before lockdown. My reviews have come to form something of a personal archive, a diary of sorts, and Soma Crew are a frequently recurring feature. And it’s not just because they play a lot locally that I’ve seen them so many times. We’ll return to them shortly, as Threat Detector is up first, and their offering is definitely different – from one song to the next.

A solo artist with live guitar and vocals against a backing track, what we get is some sample-soaked post rock and alternative rock and synth pop, making for an eclectic set which sometimes feels a little uncertain of where it’s headed. The timing of both the guitar and the vocals are a bit out in places, possibly at least partly on account of the drums being so low in the mix. The backing is well-programmed when it’s fully audible, which is mostly during the electronic songs which occupy the second half of the set. But when paired with the guitar, it’s often largely submerged, and the sound is pretty muddy overall. There do nevertheless seem to be some decent tunes with a pop edge in amidst that thick, gritty guitar sound – whether it was supposed to sound quite like that I’m not sure. It’s very much a set of two halves, returning to the guitar for the last song.

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Threat Detector

Soma Crew are presenting with another different lineup permutation, notably with Andy Wiles of Percy back on bass. It’s a classic set of mesmeric, droning, one-chord riffs spinning out for an eternity. Watching the keyboard player tapping his foot while holding two fingers in the same position for five minutes is quite an unexpected marvel. When they lock into a groove, they’re a band you could watch all night. In this low-ceilinged room, with a stage that’s barely 3” high, at volume, and at this proximity, where the backline is right in your face, they are in their element and sound fantastic.

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Soma Crew

deathlounge play the four tracks from their eponymous EP up front at the start of the set, back-to-back. Across the four songs they showcase the full spectrum of their songwriting. The style may be varied, but the musicianship is tight and the band cohere not only sonically but visually, with bassist, guitarist, and drummer all looking like they belong together, and this works in that while they lunge and lurch hard in their respective spaces (admittedly, on a stage this size there’s no real scope for mobility), the singer Chazz does his own thing. He brings his own energy and paces about as he spits anguish and disaffection.

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deathlounge

At times they venture through the domains of emo and punk pop, but they’ve got a strong line in solid, grungy, punky riffs, and something of a cowboy obsession, resulting in some hard-driving country and a hint of ‘Rawhide’ on one of the songs. Towards the end – a solid forty-five minutes into the set, with a couple still to go – it did begin to feel as if it was a bit of a stretch for a band this early on in their career, on account of the material being new and unreleased, and thus unfamiliar. But the potential evidenced a few months back continues to glimmer and glow. Next stop: the album.

Wardruna / Jo Quail – The Barbican, York, 22nd March 2025

Posted: 23 March 2025 in Live
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Christopher Nosnibor

Whistles, hoots, and pipes welcome the sellout crowd as they filter in – very slowly, due to the intense security involving airport style metal detectors on the forecourt, and of course, bag checks, the disposal of any fluids, and enforced cloakrooming of said bags (once any bottles of water etc. have been confiscated). Having only frequented small shows for the last few years, I’d forgotten – or erased – this aspect of attending larger venues, and it strikes me as sad that this is the world we live in now, and I drink my £8 pint very slowly indeed. But tonight is a night where it’s possible to distance oneself from all of the shit and recapture some of what’s been lost, however fleetingly.

Jo Quail, who never fails to deliver less than stunning performances, commands the large stage – and audience – with a captivating half-hour set, which opens with ‘Rex’ and swiftly builds an immense, dramatic, layered sound with loops continually expanding that sound. There’s no-one else who is really in the same field: with the innovative application of a range of pedals – not least of all a loop – she makes her solo cello sound like a full orchestra, with thunderous rumbles, percussion and big rock power chords all crashing in.

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Jo Quail

It’s a new song called ‘Embrace’ which is the second of her three pieces, and she closes with ‘Adder Stone’ from 2014 LP Caldera, which would subsequently provide the mane for her independent label. The rapturous reception is well-deserved. Her richly emotive sound is certainly a good fit with Wardruna, and it’s likely she’s won herself a fair few new fans tonight.

While the place had been pretty busy when she took to the stage, the lights come up at the end of her set and suddenly, it’s packed. Thuds and rumbles build the anticipation for the main event.

Opening the set with ‘Kvitravn’, Wardruna immediately create a fully immersive atmosphere with strong choral vocals and huge booming bass, and it’s an instant goosebumps moment. Recorded, they’re powerful, compelling: live, the experience goes way beyond. The vibrations of the bass and the thunderous percussion awaken senses seemingly dormant.

Performing as a seven-piece, hearing their voices coming together, filling the auditorium and rising to the skies is stirring, powerful and infinitely greater than the sum of the parts. It’s the perfect demonstration of what can be achieved through unity and collectivism, and the multiple percussive instruments being beaten, hard, with focus and passion produces something that’s almost overwhelming, and goes so far beyond mere music… It’s intense, and intensely spiritual, too.

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Wardruna

The sound is phenomenal, and it’s augmented by some incredible lighting: no standard spots or flashy lasers here: this is a magnificently considered and perfectly-choreographed display which works with the backdrop and the foliage on stage to optimally compliment and accentuate the performance. While I’m often somewhat unenthused by the larger-venue experience, preferring the intimacy of the sub-five-hundred capacity venue, this is a show that could only work on a big stage. Somehow, it’s the only way to do justice to music that truly belongs in a forest clearing, or on a clifftop, or on a glacier amidst the most immense and rugged vistas on the planet.

On ‘Lyfjaberg’, they achieve the perfect hypnotic experience, while dry ice floods the stage and lies about their ankles like a thick, low-lying forest mist, before Einar performs a solo rendition of Voluspá.

The second half of the set elevates the transcendental quality still further, as the percussion dominates the throbbing drones which radiate in Sensurround. This is music that exalts in the wind , waves, birds, trees – and the bear – and celebrates power of nature. It’s an experience that brings home just how far we have come from our origins, and a reminder that not all progress is good. Humans are the only species who adapt their habitat to their needs, rather than adapting to their habitat, and it’s a destructive trait. Even parasites strive to achieve a symbiotic relationship with their host, and a parasite which kills its host is a failed parasite because it finds itself seeking a new host. Without the earth, we have no habitat: we will not be colonising Mars any time soon, whatever Elon Musk says, or however much Philip K Dick you may read. But experiencing Wardruna live is the most uplifting, life-affirming experience.

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Wardruna

They bring up the lights and bask in the rapturous applause for some considerable time, before Einar speaks on nature and tradition and the importance of song, before they close with funeral song ‘Helvegen’, illuminated in red with burning torches along the front of the stage. It’s a strong, and moving piece delivered with so much soul that it’s impossible not to be affected.

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Wardruna

After another lengthy ovation, Einar dismisses the rest of the band and performs ‘Hibjørnen’ – a lullaby from a bear’s perspective – solo. After such a thoroughly rousing hour and a half, it makes for a beautifully soothing curtain close.

This was not merely a concert, and the performance, theatrical as it was, was not theatre, but a sincere channelling of purest emotion, a quest to connect the players with the audience and their innermost souls and their origins. It’s a unifying, and even a cleansing experience, a reminder of how we can all step back, breathe, and refocus. This was something special.

Shoe York: Aiming / Moongate / Joseph B Paul – The Fulford Arms, York, 15th March 2025

Posted: 16 March 2025 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

Ah, Shoe York, indeed… I find some amusement in the fact that the original York feel compelled to reference its later tribute city. I’m not sure if Brew York is just a plain pub or born out of a feeling that punning on New York may be in some way beneficial to their profile – but they do make some great beers and are doing well in terms of distribution and expanding their pub outlets, and this can only be a good thing. Shoe York, meanwhile, offers a nigh of shoegaze courtesy of a trio of local acts.

Some MBV lurches from the PA as I find a surface to lodge my pint of porter, and the place is filling up early doors, which is encouraging, and also heartening. Grassroots venues tend to survive on tribute bands and the bigger visiting bands, so to see a local night so well-attended is significant.

Joseph B Paul does a line in New Order / Joy Division influenced pop that at times sounds more like a darkly spun reimagining of Erasure. The setup is with live guitar, and everything else sequenced, and the drums are way too low in the mix, depriving the songs of the groove that’s clearly integral to their form. In contrast, the vocals are possibly a bit too forward, and devoid of any reverb, they sit on top of, rather than within the arrangements. Joseph does some bouncy dancing and it’s all very 80s, and perhaps there are dreampop elements in the mix, but it doesn’t exactly feel shoesgaze as much as shoehorned.

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Joseph B Paul

Suddenly, it’s absolutely rammed by the time Moongate take the stage. There is a bar queue, too. I don’t simply mean the bar is busy: there is a queue of individuals snaking back halfway into the rows of people facing the stage. This is wrong. It is not how bars work. I circumnavigate the queue. I don’t get served much quicker, but feel some sense of relief in not perpetuating this dismal wrongness, and I do make it back to the front in time for Moongate.

Moongate do a nice line in dreamy indie that jangles, drifts, and washes gently with a hint of melancholy over the ears, and Joseph has a lot to answer for, being the subject of around 75% of the set, the subject matter of which is predominantly heartbreak, breakups and breakdowns. It’s a nice set, and they’ve got clear potential – and more so when the singer moves on from Joseph.

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Moongate

Aiming are three serious, studious, earnest bearded young men. Their drum machine is also low in the mix, but with a crisp, Roland snare sound cutting through the swathes of layering guitar and synths. The live bass has a bouncy groove and is really solid in a 4/4 chuggalong way. In fact, the bassist is excellent, delivering sturdy low-end, and this works: the band have a certain energy and a level of polish that’s slick but nor completely slock or passionless.

The band don’t do chat, but the audience does. This is the most loudly talkative audience I’ve experienced in a while, it’s positively a roar between songs.

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Aiming

The song they announce as a new song is perhaps the strongest of the set, which is encouraging, with a delicate melody and solid guitar and bass fusing together. It works well, but there are no real surges or crescendos, and as much as these may be more overtly shoegaze in forms, on this outing… they could do better. But… they’re tight, melodic, captivating, and go down a storm.

Feather Trade / Suspicious Liquid / Different State / Averno – The Fulford Arms, York, 6th March 2025

Posted: 7 March 2025 in Live
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Christopher Nosnibor

This is another of the outstanding ‘four bands for the price of a pint at the O2’ nights that’s become a consistent feature at The Fulford Arms in recent months, and the fact that previous outings have demonstrated that Feather Trade are worth easily double that on their own makes this an absolute must.

Tonight’s outing for post-punk 80s jangle indie five-piece Averno is rough round the edges, with a slightly scronky bass sound, and they sound – and sure, I’m showing my age here – like bands sounded in the 80s and 90s before everything got ultra-polished. Something happened along the way, where nearly every pub band came to display the slickness of arena bands. Historically, even big bands might hit bum notes, sound a bit flat or ropey, and we embraced it because it was liv and it wasn’t expected to sound like the studio version. Averno do sound a shade ramshackle, but the sound improved and their confidence visibly grew as the set progressed, and the appeal here is that they sound… real. They don’t hit any bum notes, and they look and sound stronger this time around.

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Averno

Grunge power trio Different State bring keen melodies and dark undercurrents – there are hints of 8 Storey Window and Bivouac alongside the obvious Nirvana nods, and the riffs are proper chunky. I reckon the drummer thought he got away with dropped stick twizzle in the second song… but he certainly recovered it well. In terms of performance, sound quality, in fact, absolutely everything, although they may not give us anything we haven’t heard before (I had to check to see if I’d seen them before, and I haven’t, and was simply experiencing that deva-vu that reverberates with certain types of bands), they did turn in an outstanding performance that made it feel like we were in a substantially larger venue.

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Different State

And then came Suspicious Liquid, who proved to be the revelation of the night. THIS is a band. And what a band. Unprepared, I wasn’t the only one to stand, jaw ajar, marvelling at the all-round magnificence of this act. Ostensibly, they’re a hard rock act, but they’re so much more, and they do it all so well. The soaring vocals are simply breathtaking – at times verging on the operatic, but also gutsy, and they sit well with the instrumentation, which is dark, with gothic hints, hitting full-on witchy metal and at times bringing big, beefy, Sabbath-esque riffs. At times, I’m reined of The Pretty Reckless, but Suspicious Liquid are way better, and way more dynamic. The vocalist is a strong focal point visually, but it’s her phenomenal vocals which really captivate. Unusually, in context, the front row is predominantly female, and this speaks significantly about not only the band but the fact the venue feels like a safe space – and it’s a space to watch high drama delivered with real weight and a rare assurance. It’s an immensely powerful set, and it’s not a huge stretch to imagine Suspicious Liquid touring nationally or being signed to a label like New Heavy Sounds.

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Suspicious Liquid

Just as some say that everything is better with bacon, it’s a musical fact that everything sounds better with reverb – and when it’s loud. Feather Trade have great songs and great style, but fully appreciate the additional benefits of reverb. They’ve sounded great every time I’ve seen them: they’re simply a quality band, who have survived every single spanner thrown into their works to emerge triumphant. Perhaps were it not for the spanners, they’d be headlining the O2 instead of The Fulford Arms – by rights they should be, because they’re that good, and tonight, the sound and the feel is more like a Brudenell gig than The Fulford Arms. Put simply, Feather Trade sound immense. Dense, layered guitar defines the sound, propelled by sturdy drumming and a tight, throbbing bass. There are no weak elements.

‘Dead Boy’ is a raging celebration of cancer survival which absolutely melts in tsunami of noise, a full on squall akin to The Jesus and Mary Chain, and with motorik drum-pad beats, and a huge squalling mesh of treble-loaded, reverb-drenched, and everything at a hundred decibels is reminiscent of A Place to Bury Strangers.

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Feather Trade

‘Trump hate song’ (as they pitch it) ‘Lord Have Mercy’ is absolutely blistering, while in contrast, penultimate song ‘Hold’ is altogether poppier and ventures into anthemic territory. It’s no criticism when I say it reminds me of Simple Minds but way heavier. It is a brain-meltingly strong performance, yielding a colossal wall of sound, ear-shredding, treble-laden reverb on reverb. Volume is not substitute for skill, of course, but it can optimise the intensity of a strong performance – and this was a strong performance, the kind of experience that leaves you in a headspin, utterly blown away. These guys deserve to be as huge as they sound.

The Bastard Sons / This House We Built / Sleuth Gang / Straw Doll – The Crescent, York, 28 February 2025

Posted: 1 March 2025 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

Just under 5 years ago, I arrived at this venue feeling a sense of nervousness, as if the world was on a precipice, as we greeted one another with elbow bumps and the car staff were polyethene gloves and aprons. Practically hours later, we went into lockdown. There are no elbow bumps or PPE tonight, but having seen shit go south in the Oval Office of The Whitehouse on a day which will likely go down as a pivotal moment in world history while eating my dinner before heading out, I arrive with the same kind of creeping panic. As is often the case, I’m here for a spot of escapism, one of the most essential benefits of live music, and whether or not anyone else whose down tonight is experiencing the same kind of existential; fear, I suspect many are here for the same thing.

The Bastard Sons – that’s the York band, not to be confused with Phil Campbell’s post-Motörhead band, formed in 2015 – have been away for a long time. After much build-up, they released their debut album, Smoke in 2015, to no small acclaim from the likes of Kerrang. And then… a few local gigs and… Having finally got around to presenting a new single, they’ve been persuaded to tread the boards once more, heading a four-act lineup with an early start.

On promptly at 7:45, just fifteen minutes after doors, Straw Doll may be Metallica, but they’re equally Alice in Chains and Soundgarden, serving up a grunge metal hybrid, with debut single ‘Confess’ being exemplary, while ‘Denial’ leans somewhat on ‘Nothing Else Matters’. Although perhaps a shade predictable at times, with some chunky riffs they delivered a tight and solid set, which was all the more impressive for being their first live outing.

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Straw Doll

It seems hard to credit that I’ve witnessed acts who can be seen or claim to be channelling The Beastie Boys twice in a fortnight at rock gigs, but here we are, bracing ourselves for Sleuth Gang, York battle of the bands winners who promise ‘the harder edge of hip hop mashed with Beastie Boys, early punk, grime, and the experimental post-hardcore/electronicore of Enter Shikari.’ There’s a couple of bellends – one with a mullet – leaning all over the monitors and slopping their pints on the floor before they even start. Sure enough, they only seem to have about five fans, and said ‘fans’ are intent on barging one another so hard to see if they’ll stay up or career into the crowd outside the ‘pit’. The band keep calling the audience forward, but they end up stepping back to make room for their antics instead. The guitarist leaps off the stage, sinks half of mullet guy’s mate’s pint and then throws the rest of it over him. He wipes down his tracksuit top, smiling like he’s just been enunciated.

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Sleuth Gang

Their second song is a cover of The Prodigy’s ‘Omen’, and it’s the best song in the set by a mile. With their three MCs, it’s like watching Limp Bizkit fronted by a nu-metal version of the Village People… It takes a particular type of tosser to wear boot cut pleather jeans and a leather waistcoat, not to mention while chewing a toothpick. They spend half the set yelling for us to ‘Make some fucking noise’ ‘put your hands up’ and ‘let’s see your fucking energy’. Yeesh. My energy is at the bar.

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Sleuth Gang

This House We Built are older guys… The front man, who’s not especially tall, draws attention to the fact by having a little portable platform, a little like a low and unstylish occasional table, to the fore of his mic stand, and he rests a foot on it and sometimes stands on it to deliver widdy solos. He wants to see our fingers – horns, that is, not middle ones. It’s fairly standard hair rock, a bit Aerosmith, a bit Bon Jovi… the bassist reckons he’s in 80s ZZ Top. With his illuminated frets, metallic finish five-string bass and wraparound shades, he’s actually the coolest thing about the band.

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This House We Built

It’s been a long time since The Bastard Sons played – eight years, no less – and it’s apparent that they have been missed. Despite the time away, they’re finely honed as a live unit.

For the uninitiated, JJ’s vocals are perhaps the greatest obstacle in their rapid-cut screamo metalcore assault. Within the space of a single line, he’s gone from melodic to guttural via screaming. And he’s far too old to be showing so much boxer above beltline, surely. For the fans – and the venue, which is pretty packed, is massively into it – time has stood still, and that’s great, but the world itself has moved on.

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The Bastard Sons

“What the fuck is uuuuuup??” comes the shout from the stage. Well, you may well ask, Mr Bastard. The moshpit that broke out three songs in mostly appeared to consist of Sleuth Gang – hailed as ‘one of the best bands you’ll ever see’ by JJ – and their mates. The waistcoat guy’s now put on a tasselled leather jacket. There are fat middle aged blokes with shirts off, twirling them like helicopter blades over their heads, there’s play-wrestling, nosebleeds, and mums in PVC dresses losing their shit, and I almost forget the band and their woah-woah choruses. It’s rare to see quite such a conglomeration of cockends. But when all is said and done, for a band to come back after an eight-year absence and to grip a crowd so tightly and to attract such unbridled adulation, they have to have something, and there’s no questioning the fact that they bring the riffs and the energy – although there is a sense that while joshing about the (now slightly older) crowd being happy for the earlier, 10:45 finish, so are they, having run out of songs and energy after an hour. And that’s ok, especially as this looks like the start of an actual comeback.

Paskfest – The Fulford Arms, York, 22 February 2025

Posted: 23 February 2025 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

One might feel that naming an event after yourself is a bit of an egofest, but when the event in question is, essentially, the organiser’s birthday party, well, fair enough. And Mr Pasky has been putting on decent gigs for a while now, boasting eclectic lineups, and if live music is your thing, is there a better way of celebrating a birthday than putting on a bunch of bands you like and opening the venue doors to see them free of charge?

With doors being at 3pm, I missed the first couple of acts, and arrived in time for Pat Butcher, who I’ve not seen in an age, and all I can remember about them is carrots. They deliver a confident set of aggressive punk rock, with angry-sounding songs about- kidney stones, IBS, and raceday wankers – relatable to anyone who resides in York. And late on, they land the comical, gimmicky ‘Carrot in a Minute’, whereby they distribute raw carrots among the audience and challenge them to eat them within the song’s minute-long duration… just for shits an’ giggles. There’s something quite uplifting and entertaining witnessing a bunch of guys getting worked up about mundane stuff like neighbours who vacuum clean at all hours.

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Pat Butcher

Fat Spatula are up next, and I find I like them more each time I see them. Did I write that about them last time, too? Quite possibly, but then it’s true. They really seems to be hitting new peaks and seem more confident, too. ‘Benefits Tourist’ goes uptempo and shoutier amidst energetic but affable US indie style. There are hints of Pixies and Pavement, and some country leanings, too. A lot of the verses are delivered rapidfire like REM It’s the End of the World as We Know It’, but later on, experimental spoken word gives way to kinetic space rock with blasting motorik drums on the penultimate song. I’’s only three or four minutes long, but with that locked-in groove, they could do a half-hour long version and it still wouldn’t be long enough.

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Fat Spatula

As I mentioned, eclectic lineups are Pasky’s thing, and OG3 are a power trio who start out like Beastie Boys circa ‘83, but the rest of the set is a melding of punk and emo and some weird hybrid efforts that are like Eminem fronting a grunge act. And then they cover ‘Fight for Your Right’… and do a top job of it. There’s a bit of nu-metal going on, too, and the overall vibe is kinda Judgement Night soundtrack. It shouldn’t work, but it actually does.

Illegal Fireworks take to the stage sporting quite spectacular gold brocade jackets… Yes, plural: the bassist, guitarist, and drummer are all decked out in these quite remarkable garments, while the singer is all the sequins. It’s a bold look, and no mistake. The trouble is, it’s not an ironic gesture, and in the first minute I find myself absolutely detesting their smug, smooth, funky jazz. Not that I’m judgemental or anything… I just detest smug, smooth, funky jazz. But then they get a bit prog, a bit post rock, and show some potential. But thereafter they stick to smug, soul-infused smooth, funky jazz. Technically, they’re faultless, objectively they’re outstanding, and they go down a storm. But subjectively, I absolutely fucking hate it all, but especially the gurning bassist. It’s the kind of thing that would have been massive in the 80s, they’d have been all over Top of the Pops with glitterballs and dry ice and balloons bobbing about, and I’d have fucking hated it then, too. I know, I know, it’s a question of taste, but seriously, they should be illegal.

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Illegal Fireworks

I have reservations about Flat Moon at first, coming on like Glasto-loving middle-class hippies with their brand of parping sax-heavy jazz space rock. But there’s something compelling about their style and the delivery. I’m reminded in some way of Gong, and that trippy, whimsical strain of psychedelia, and they’ve got some riffs, and shit. are they tight. It’s no small feat considering there are six of them. They work seriously hard and bring entertainment to the max – and ultimately this is what tonight is all about.

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Flat Moon

There will be very few who loved every band on the bill, but that’s kind of the point of a lineup like this: you’ll get to see bands you might not have otherwise gone to see, you might like some and not others, and that’s fine. For a long, long time, the best thing about York was its proximity to Leeds, but now, even while there’s a dearth of venues, the city is throwing up a remarkable number of quality acts – for all tastes. And that is something to celebrate.

The Illness / Nature Kids – The Crescent Community Centre, York, 16 February 2025

Posted: 17 February 2025 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

On this night twenty-four years ago, I was at Leeds University Refectory, watching The Sisters of Mercy play their tenth anniversary gig. Having previously only seen them once, in November 1990, at Wembley Arena, to be in the front row in a venue so much more intimate was absolutely mind-blowing. This reminiscence has little to no correspondence to tonight’s event, beyond the date, although I recall that it was a bitingly cold night, the kind of seasonal grimness that means it’s a real effort to venture out.

Thankfully, despite it not only being absolutely biting, but being a Sunday, a decent crowd has ventured out for this, the second part of the album launch event for The Illness’ debut album (the first part having been in Liverpool the night before, with the band being split between Liverpool and York). 6:30 doors and the prospect of not only two quality bands and an early finish are likely all contributing factors in terms of incentive.

So what do we know about The Illness? Not a lot. It’s taken them a decade knocking about to get to this point. The notes which accompany the Bandcamp of their eponymous EP, released in 2020 and featuring Steve West and Bob Nastanovich of Pavement, gives a clue as to where the time goes: ‘Following 5+ years of scrapped sessions, line-up changes and other distractions, both tracks were initially recorded in the basement of a former maternity home, Heworth Moor House in York (on Scout Niblett’s old 8-track machine). Steve recorded his vocals at Marble Valley Studio, Richmond, Virginia and Bob in Des Moines, Iowa.’

It’s a tale reminiscent of the likes of The Stone Roses and My Bloody Valentine stalling on their second album… only this is a band that stalled for more than five years without releasing a note. So the fact Macrodosed has arrived at all seems nothing short of miraculous.

Before they launch the album, Nature Kids – a band who’ve been gigging around York for a while but I have no experience of – warm things up, and they’re nice. That’s not ‘nice’ in the bland, insipid way, but the enthusiastic way. They serve up a set of mellow indie, which is both happy and sad at the same time. There’s some nice twangy country tones and subtle keyboard work, and some saw action, too. ‘Always’ goes a bit post-punk and has a tidy groove to it, and is a standout in a set of consistent quality. The lead guitar is what really stands out – although it’s subtle and understated, to the point that it takes a few songs to realise what it is about their sound that’s so magic. No two ways about it, this is a gem of a band.

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Nature Kids

The Illness is not so much a band as a collective, and just as the album has a roll-call of guest contributors, so they present an ever-changing lineup on stage. There are never fewer than six of them, but sometimes as many as eight, and there is instrument and position-swapping galore, with vocal and bass duties switching all over.

Much of the time, they have three guitars, bass, drums… but there are some synths happening, and their sound is an immaculate blend of indie, prog, epic psychedelic space rock, all executed, if not with precision, then behind a curtain of shimmering sonic fireworks, from blooming roman candles to the spirals of Catherine wheels.

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The Illness

‘Speedway Star’ is the second song of the set, and it’s laid back but had a certain grip. The album version featured David Pajo, and the question keeps arising: how? Ultimately, it doesn’t matter: what matters is that their set – a mere forty-five minutes – is something special.

The final song of the night is a full-on motorik wig-out, and it’s absolutely magnificent, with two trilling synths and two guitars, it’s equal parts Stereolab and Early Years (do better comparison). Danny (Wolf Solent, etc, a man who’s essentially a one-man scene in York and who I gather is a late addition to the band’s lineup) , who’s been keeping restrained throughout goes all out with a blistering guitar workout

The Illness may be well under the radar and well underachieving – given their connections alone they ought to be massive, never mind the fact they’re uniquely brilliant – but perhaps that will change given the brilliance of the album and superb shows like this. The Illness are totally sick… right?

Teleost / Cwfen / Makhlon – The Fulford Arms, York, 6th February 2024

Posted: 7 February 2025 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

On arrival, it looks like Nu Jorvik have pulled and been replaced by Makhlon, and at somewhat short notice, but it’s hard to grumble when you’ve got three heavy bands for six measly quid and the headliners are guaranteed to be worth double that on their own.

There’s lots of leather, studs, long coats, and long hair in the gathered crowd, it turns out those sporting corpse paint – perhaps not entirely surprisingly – belong to the first band who are straight-up black metal.

Makhlon’s singer has Neil from The Young Ones vibes. He’s about 7ft tall and wearing a Lordi T-shirt, but snarls full-on Satanic rasping vocals from behind his nicely-washed jet-black hair. The lead guitarist and front man swap roles for the last two songs – both of which are epic in scope, with some nice tempo changes, and they really step up the fury. It’s quite amusing to see him clutching a notebook in the arm which is thrust forward and enwrapped in a spike-covered vambrace, and checking the lyrics, as if it’s possible to decipher a single syllable. But this is all good: time was when York was wall-to-wall indie, folk, and Americana. Now… now we have homegrown acts like this, and the thing with black metal is that it only works when the band and its members are one hundred percent committed to the cause. These guys are, and while they may be fairly new, they’re tight, they can really play, and they give it everything.

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Makhlon

Cwfen – pronounced ‘Coven’ – aren’t Welsh, but in fact Scottish, and this is their first trip south of the border. It seems that since relocating to Glasgow, Teleost have been making some good friends. And Cwfyn are good alright… Woah, yes, they’re good. They are heavy, so heavy, as well as melodic but also ferocious. There’s a lot going on, all held together by a supremely dense bass. The ‘occult metal four- piece’ may be the coming together of artists who’ve been around a few years, but the fact they’ve only been playing as a unit for a couple of years is remarkable, as they really have everything nailed. They’re both visually and sonically compelling: Siobhan’s fierce presence provides an obvious focal point, but the way everything melds instrumentally is breathtaking. The third song in their five-song set slows things, and brings some nice reverb and chorus textures. Piling into the penultimate song, the crushing ‘Penance’, which features on their debut release, they sound absolutely fucking immense. The closer, the slow-burning, slightly gothy ‘Embers’ is truly epic. With their debut album in the pipeline, this is a band to get excited about.

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Cwfen

I’m already excited about Teleost, and the fact that there’s such a turnout on a cold Thursday night says the people of York are extremely pleased to welcome them home. Having knocked about in various bands / projects previously, with Cat Redfern fronting Redfyrn on guitar and vocals, before pairing with Leo Hancill to form Uncle Bari, who would mutate into the ultimate riff-monster that is Teleost, they departed for Glasgow, leaving a uniquely Teleost-shaped hole at the heavier end of the scene.

Absence not only makes the heart grow fonder, but it’s apparent they’ve spent their time getting even more immense since they left.

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Teleost

They’re a band to watch with your eyes closed. Not because they aren’t good to watch, but because their sound is so immersive. Teleost have perfected that Earth-like tectonic crawl. Imagine Earth 2 with drums and vocals. Or, perhaps, Sunn O)))’s Life Metal with percussion. Each chord hangs for an entire orbit, the drums crash at a tidal pace, and with oceanic, crushing weight. Somehow, Leo Hancil’s guitar sounds like three guitars and a bass, and it looks like he’s actually running through two or even three separate cabs. It’s not quite Stephen O’Malley’s backline, but it’s substantial. And you’re never going to get a sound like that just going through a 15-watt amp, however you mic it up. They play low and slow, and Cat plays with drumsticks as thick as rounders bats, yielding a truly thunderous drum sound. In fact, to open your eyes is to reveal a mesmerising spectacle: two musicians playing with intense focus and a rare intuition, and Redfern’s slow, deliberate drumming is phenomenal, and the whole experience is completely hypnotic. They play over the scheduled time, and then, by popular demand, treat us to an encore with an as-yet-unreleased song. Everyone is absolutely rooted to the spot, currents of sound buffeting around us.

Teleost’s influences may be obvious, but they’re at the point where they’re every bit as good as their forebears. The future is theirs. But tonight is ours. We can only hope they visit again soon.

Chonky Dogg / Covent / Patience – The Fulford Arms, York 16th January 2025

Posted: 17 January 2025 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

I expended a lot of typing extolling the virtues of grass-roots venues last year, and mentioned in my end -of-year summary how a change in personal circumstances had changed my gig-going habits somewhat. And so it was that I picked this one more or less on a whim: after DarkHer’s show on Monday was cancelled due to band illness, I found myself itching to see some live music.

Having been blown away by the Jesus Lizard last week, I figured seeing a band I had no knowledge or expectations of might be a good idea, as there would be less likelihood of disappointment.

A Thursday night in the middle of January is pretty much the ultimate lull in the gig year – ordinarily. So it’s pleasing to see a decent turnout early doors, with surprising mix of studenty types and older men. Grey hair, beards, bald heads… Yes, broadly my demographic now, but more like retirement age than approaching 50. At the opposite end, nerd glasses, mullets, turnups. And all as lanky as hell. Why is everyone under the age of thirty so bloody tall?

Patience are first up, bring a set of middling alt-rock with a bit of an emo edge and some flash mathy licks. The singer looks a little uncomfortable on stage: she makes rather hesitant moves when not singing, mostly with some small-stepping jogging on the spot. The band have some serious pedal setups for a bottom of the bill band with just a handful of tunes on Spotify. Perhaps partly on account of this, they sound really good. Things fall apart a bit during the last song, with tuning time-outs and false starts, and the bassist, who’s about seven feet tall and using a wireless setup, not content with bouncing and flailing in his own space, repeatedly encroaches on the singer’s space as he crosses the stage and lurches about around the drum kit. It’s a solid enough performance from a band who have no shortage of technical skill or kit, but whose songs are lacking in that all-essential grab which would make them memorable. They have clear potential, though, and I’d be interested to see them in another six months or so.

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Patience

Covent’s single, ‘Peace’, released just last week, was the only bit of pre-gig research I managed. Showcasing a proficient grunge-influenced sound, it’s more Bush than Nirvana, but I’d take that over Nickleback any day – and as a consequence, I was rather looking forward to their set.

They have even more pedals than Patience, especially the bassist. And fuck me if he’s not wearing a bloody Nickleback T-shirt. They’re certainly at the more radio-friendly end of grunge, sounding like Language. Sex. Violence. Other? era Stereophonics crossed with Celebrity Skin era Hole – not to mention Smashing Pumpkins. They sound great, mind, and the singer’s voice has a good level of grit and gravel, and when they do really kick it hard, as on ‘Under the Surface’, they move above drive time grunge into heavy-hitting territory. ‘Out of the Blue’ does remind me rather of Weezer, although I can’t put my finger on anything precisely, and they close with ‘Peace’. It’s a sound choice and a strong finish to a thoroughly decent set. I could easily see them playing considerably larger rooms.

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Covent

Chonky Dogg demonstrate why it’s worth taking punts on bands, and why grassroots venues are vital. Where else would a local band with no label backing – that is to say, a real band rather than a manufactured one – get to cut their teeth and build a fanbase? There’s been much made of the cutting of the pipeline, how the not-so-slow death of the small venue circuit is starting to choke the development of acts who will be playing arenas and headlining festivals in years to come. Chonky Dogg are never going to be headlining Glastonbury or selling out O2 venues around the country – but given the right exposure, clearly have the potential to play to substantially larger audiences than this.

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Chonky Dogg

Theirs is a daft name, but it so happens they’re a great band, strongly reminiscent of And So I Watch You from Afar, another band I discovered by way of a fluke because I went to see maybeshewill – on the basis of hearing a single – while staying in Stirling for a conference. They play noodly, mathy post rock driven by big, big riffs. Their music is complex, yet accessible, richly layered, with some magnificent detail, wonderful guitar interplay, and some dense, crunchy bass. The songs pack some weight and substance. And, they’re as tight as they come: is it really only their third gig? ‘Barbenheimer’ is a blistering riff-fest with soaring lead work, and everything about their performance is perfectly balanced and brilliantly executed. A beautiful proggy neoclassical interlude prefaces the final song, scheduled for single release soon (I think), and it’s a blinder.

I’m going to call it here first while I can: they really are the (Chonky) Dogg’s bollocks.

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