Archive for the ‘Live’ Category

Christopher Nosnibor

There tend not to be many good news stories about grassroots venues in circulation, so to be able to present one feels like a big, big deal: tonight’s gig marks ten years since The Fulford Arms, previously a pub that put on some gigs, came under new ownership and became a dedicated grassroots venue.

I’ve lost count of the number of shows I’ve attended, and even the number of times I’ve performed, during those years. I’ve also lost count of the number of times I’ve raved about just how brilliant a venue it is. Over the years, for a small venue, it’s pulled some big names, from Wayne Hussey and The March Violets, to Ginger Wildheart, as well as bands on the cusp, notably, in the past couple of years, Benefits and BDRMM – which perfectly illustrates the need for grassroots venues. The bands on the cusp cut their teeth in venues like this, and without them… well, so much has been said already on the detriment to the industry, the economy, to bands… but also, the community. One thing I’ve oft repeated is that where The Fulford Arms is concerned, much as important as the sound and the bands are, the sense of community is absolutely the thing that makes it. That community centres around disparate groups and individuals, who are all welcomed equally, regardless of commercial draw. The big gigs fund the tiny local events, the noise nights, anti-racism poetry and spoken-word nights. You name it, it happens here.

And sure enough, on arrival, there are people I know – plenty of people – and as always, it feels like coming home. Not quite a gig in your living room, unless you have a massive living room with a bar and friendly bar staff, but certainly a home from home.

Tonight’s lineup is very much a celebration of the diversity of acts they putt on here, and also, significantly, focuses on the local. While many have elected to see John Otway and Wild Willy Barret on the other side of town, it’s significant that we actually have choice of live music to see in smaller venues on any given evening.

It’s a shame that the hefty guitar-wielding noise juggernaut JUKU have had to pull out at short notice due to COVID, but what’s on offer is still diverse and enjoyable.

First up, No Como Crees – a trio reduced to a 2-piece due to their drummer having food poisoning – or ‘food poisoning’ – and so they’re playing acoustic for the first time, with two guitars. It’s a good thing the bassist can actually play guitar. The change in lineup has dictated a change in sound, meaning that instead of roustabout ska-punk we get acoustic Americana, and serves as a reminder of the York scene before The Fulford Arms became a venue proper, when every other pub would host some singer-songwriter solo or duo playing blues / Americana. Some acts were better than others, but ultimately the lack of variety was pretty grim.

Credit to them for the effort they’ve put into the set and how well they pull it off. Their second song reminds me rather of ‘Horse with No Name’ by America. Another song is supposed to be uptempo ska-punk in its usual format, but it too comes out as Springsteenish Americana. Then there’s a song with some rapped verses which really don’t work in an acoustic setting. I do feel sorry for them performing under difficult circumstances and it’s a decent effort but on balance, I probably wouldn’t have dug their standard set any more. Sporting flat caps, custom-printed basketball vests, and beards, and swaying around airily, they’re vaguely irritating, and paired with some repetitive, unfunny banter, I find them hard to take to… and then they chuck in a cover of Jessie J’s ‘Price Tag’. But… they play well and have good voices. and variety is the key to tonight’s lineup.

Act 1

No Como Crees

Speedreaders are certainly a contrast. Although a relatively new act, they feature some longstanding faces from the city’s scene. There’s something quintessentially York about their brand of ponderous indie straddling 80s and 90s, with jangling guitar and tempo changes and buildups galore, and style of jumpers and jeans, open shirts over t-shirts indie. In the main, it’s understated, somewhat slowcore. “We’re not cocky, we’re just awkward” David Mudie (guitars and vocals) says, breaking one of the lengthy silences between songs while tunes up. Plugging away at a handful of chords, pushed along by simple, uncluttered drumming, the songs shine with all three band members’ vocals blending to later the sound. They really cut loose on final song, ‘Down-Round’, which lands in the territory of Pavement and Dinosaur Jr circa You’re Living All Over Me, with some gloriously wistful minor chords, before hitting an epic kraut groove workout that brings the set to a sustained climax.

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Speedreaders

Percy have been going for twenty-eight years now, and while they may have undergone a few lineup changes, through the years, the current one is solid, and they’ve been prolific, both in terms of recorded output and gigs. They’re certainly worthy headliners for tonight’s show – a band who’ve trodden the boards at the Fully Arms countless times, and a band who have spent their career pedalling their wares round the grassroots circuit.

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Percy

Spells of raised profile have come and gone, and they’re still doing what they do. As York’s answer to The Fall, they’ll keep on doing it, too. As such, tonight’s outing is business as usual for Percy, and in typical style as learned from The Fall, they play their forthcoming album, which currently has no release date, in its entirety. Awkward Northern buggers. Then again, like the bands who in many respects define that Northern attitude – I’m thinking not only The Fall, but The Wedding Present,

Christopher Nosnibor

To observe that my quota of nights off for beer and live music has been subject to a dramatic cut in 2023 would be an understatement, and any ambition I may have had of becoming York’s answer to JG Ballard as a stay-at-home dad cranking out novels has been rather stifled by the dayjob. But, it pays the bills and I have achieved a writing space that resembles Ballard’s mighty shit-tip of books and all kinds of odds and sods, of which I am rather proud.

Having just the other day stumbled upon Ooberfuse’s latest single, ‘Hard Times’ in one of my virtual submission piles, and having felt compelled to write about it, spotting that they were playing for free at a venue ten minutes’ walk from my house seemed like an opportunity not to be missed, particularly after I’d given Shine Path a bit of a listen on SoundCloud.

Matt B pitches his project as ‘Leeds Based Surf Punk Goth Pop noise’, and it’s a solo thing with ‘Drums and Beats’ provided by sidekick Bruvver Boom. He’s up first and he’s sporting a Sonic Youth T-shirt and some sturdy hiking boots, which he used to stomp on his not insubstantial array of pedals. The pairing of guitar and drum machine is a quintessentially Leeds sound. He appears to use the same rhythm throughout his set, and with no fills or fancy stuff, he seems to be from the Andrew Eldritch post-1997 school of programming. The set consists mostly of tracks from his eponymous EP that’s on SoundCloud, with a few covers thrown in to pack things out. There’s a bit of Bizarro-era Wedding Present jangle in places, too, and when it comes to northern indie, ‘workmanlike’ isn’t a sleight. He delivers a hefty rendition of REM’s ‘The One I Love’, and a sparse echoey swampy, even vaguely gothy drum-free rendition of ‘Where Did You Sleep Last Night?’ before wrapping up with a stompin’ take of ‘20th Century Boy.’ I’m assuming he’s friends with a fair few people who are in tonight, but the warm reception is deserved.

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ShinePath

The event listing had led me to expect Ooberfuse to be headlining as part of the promotion for the new single, bit they’re up next, and I’m immediately struck by Cherrie Anderson’s bright yellow puffa jacket and her superbly melodic vocals. The pair bring a tidy set of pop tunes with a fairly minimal setup of synth drums and acoustic guitar, with urban beats and sequenced bass grooves. The songs are quality pop with positive energy and outstanding musicianship. ‘Go’ brings both in spades, with a Latin flavour. Rounding off a short but perfectly-formed set, ‘Hard Times’ marks a bit of a shift stylistically and it’s not only well placed but incredibly effective and moving. Snoop Dogg’s vocal sits as a sample in the mix with the dramatic piano and it’s a strong way to close the set.

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Ooberfuse

As there’s little mention of faith on Ooberfuse’s social, it’s something which seems to have bypassed Tom Robinson and The Guardian alike in their rave reviews, but there is – reflecting on Shine Path’s logo taped to his amp – very much a Christian thread running through tonight’s acts. But then, in the main, they seem more concerned with esposing Christian values than preaching Christianity. As these are values which are sadly absent from our abhorrent government who seem incapable of even espousing the most basic and fundamental human values, it can’t really be grounds for criticism.

Hibari, however, I might sleight for false advertising. He’s certainly a lot less mean-looking and mean-sounding than the poster had led me to expect. Heavily tattooed and billed as ‘ONE MAN POST BLACK METAL BAND STRAIGHT EDGE/CHIPTUNE/RAP PUNK’, when Hibari bounds on with some buoyant bit-tune rap that’s so, so ultra-poppy it makes so much J-Pop sound like the most brutal doom, it is something of a surprise. The thin sound is sort of part of the chiptune schtick. He’s a showman, and no mistake, windmilling the mic and bounding and leaping with limitless energy. The crowd is comparatively small, but there are a lot of phones out for pics, suggesting that many of the crowd know the man and his work. Given how difficult it is to track him or his music down online, there must be some Christian channels or something. It’s fun enough and all and the numbers dancing down the front increases with every number, but there isn’t the vaguest hint of black metal or punk in evidence here: this is super-clean Japanese electropop at its absolute cleanest and most minimal and most effervescent: it’s almost as dazzling as his very yellow trainers. After a few songs it becomes abundantly clear that anything remotely metal is off the table and the relentlessly upbeat and uptempo energy begins to sap the life from my limbs. It’s always a good idea to monitor and limit your sugar intake, and following the skyward-facing positivity of Ooberfuse, Hibari hits with enough positive froth as to induce a hyperglycaemic coma.

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Hibari

The stylistic differentials between the three acts isn’t easy to assimilate, but it makes for a dynamic lineup – perhaps a shade too dynamic even for my tastes, but the floor’s getting progressively busier with each song, which says loud and clear that this is Hibari’s crowd.

Christopher Nosnibor

When you don’t get to see bands playing live very often, it’s important to be selective and make sure the ones you do make it to are worth turning out for. When this show was announced, there was simply no way I was going to miss it. I’ve written extensively on Human Worth and their roster, and have even had the privilege of performing a few gigs that they’ve put on, alongside Modern Technology and others. The main reason I always do my utmost to provide coverage is because I absolutely love the label: it’s pretty much a cast-iron guarantee of being a great record of it’s on Human Worth. And that’s not just my biased opinion: I have a mate who places advance orders for every release because he’s that confident it’ll be worth having if it’s on Human Worth. The quality of their releases is exceptional, and they’re also thoroughly decent guys. And then there’s the charity aspect. It’s not virtue signalling to make it label standard to donate a proportion of proceeds of every album to a nominated charity. It’s simply illustrative of the name being a mission statement.

They’re already responsible for two of my favourite albums of the year, and both of those bands are featured on this colossal eight-act lineup for a ridiculously cheap £8, at one of Leeds’ finest venues. Wharf Chambers always delivers killer sound at high volume, and it’s also a welcoming, accommodating ,safe space for all, with an atmosphere which feels accommodating and safe.

There have been some last-minute lineup and sequencing changes, partly because Grub Nap aren’t able to play, and have been subbed with a different Steve Myles band in the form of #FAxFO, and, as an unknown quantity and no label release, they’re first up. With his arm in a sling, it’s obvious why Steve isn’t drumming, and in his capacity of vocalist fronting this heavy dirty thrash collective, despite the physical encumbrance, he still charges around man possessed. His vocals roar against a beastly backdrop of churning noise, underpinned by a six-string bass. It’s barely half four in the afternoon and already we’ve been subjected to a monster noise assault.

Belk are next up, and they just get nastier and gnarlier. It seems that finally, they’ve got a fair bit tighter, too. Their set consists primary of feedback and overloading guitars, gut churning bass, and distorted vocals. The set starts at the sludgy pace of early Swans before hitting brutal grind. The vocals are unique, flicking form a high hair rock squawk to a nasty grindy guttural growl midway through a single line: it’s like listening to Judas Priest and early Pitch Shifter at the same time.

I frothed about the Friend album a bit back, and have also been extremely excited about the members’ various other projects, of which there are many, having even shared a bill with Lump Hammer, featuring vocalist James Watts and guitarist Tim Croft. It’s fair to say this is a band made up of lovely people. Tim’s running his guitar through both bass and guitar rigs and it sounds absolutely fucking immense. And they’re a joy to watch, because this is a band which portray distinct and very different individual personalities – Skylar brings a lot of energy and is quite a flamboyant drummer, while in contrast, Croft is stooped, humble, and Watts, in his onstage form at least, is rabid, and his energy level suggests he had a particularly satisfying poo beforehand. His vocals range from a cavernous vocal drone like Gregorian chants, guttural chthonic growls and raging demonic screams, and at the end of the set, it’s all pitched around thunderous drone guitar which draws the set to an eye-popping and tempestuous climax.

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Friend

AL Lacey’s set of piano-led neoclassical works with soft yet moving vocals provided a well-placed change of tone and tempo. No earplugs are needed here: the graceful sound is clear and the experience is beautiful and life affirming. Alice’s voice has a folky quality and the performance is understated but hypnotic, and the room is quiet. And this is the measure of the event, and exemplified precisely why this is the perfect gig: everyone is just really nice and respectful towards the artists and one another. People who clearly have an ear for the most brutal noise are broad-minded enough to appreciate the most exquisitely delicate music, and to shut the fuck up and listen when the volume level drops. Yes, you really could have heard a pin drop. Given just how truly awful and apocalyptic and hate-filled the world is right now, it’s hard to fully articulate the heart-filling joy of standing in a room where, just for a short time, all of it is placed on pause, and there is escape. It’s a magical and quite moving experience.

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AL Lacey

It’s around this point that it also registers just how eclectic the Human Worth roster is. None of the noisy bands really sound alike, and if further proof were needed, we get The Eurosuite next. I dug their last album, but have to admit it’s not one which has particularly stuck with me. But witnessing them live gives me reason to review things. Jarring, jerky, their sound is dominated by processed vocals. The overall experience is of a band which is twitchy, frenzied, and incredibly tight.

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The Eurosuite

Modern Technology’s Conditions of Worth is one of my two top albums released on this label this year. It’s slow, it’s heavy, it’s oppressive and yet has space. And it seems that live, too, the pair are at the top of their game. I’ve seen Modern Technology a few times now, and they’ve never disappointed in terms of performance or volume, but this is something else. They look just so regular, too: Chris Clarke sports what I can best describe as a corporate haircut and the guys looks like the biggest straights. In contrast, they define the anticorporate spirit. Clarke’s gritty baritone vocals ring out bleak observations to harrowing effect, while he grinds the most body-smashing bass. It’s like being run over by a bulldozer. The combination of a Nonchalant delivery, vitriol and punishing volume and mega sonic density is devastating. ‘The Space Between’ stands out in the set just as it does on the album as being particularly stark and brutal. They take things down for a quieter spell mid-set…and then return harder, harsher, and stronger. Teeth bared, Owen looks murderous behind the kit. It’s a truly killer set on every level.

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Modern Technology

Tonight is also notable as the album launch event for Leeds’ own Beige Palace, whose Making Sounds for Andy was released on Friday. I effused substantially over the both the band and the album in my review just the other day, and everything I wrote remains true here – only with the added bonus of some new, unreleased songs. They open with ‘Not Waving’ from the new album, but ikt seems that the next album is already in progress, and in the fashion of The Fall, Beige Palace are so forward-facing that they will launch their new album by playing a slab of the next one. It’s fucking brilliant, as is the between-song banter, which is hilarious as they trade insults and nudges and bat self-effacing comments about all over. There’s nothing contrived about any of it: what you get is a band consisting of three mates doing onstage the same as they do in rehearsals, in the studio, down the pub. It’s human, it’s real, and it’s fun. There are false starts and fuck-ups, and it’s all part of the enjoyment of an entertaining set.

Torpor are worthy headliners, and they’re every bit as immense live as they are recorded, and as showcased on their latest album, Abscission. It one of the most punishingly heavy albums I’ve heard in a while, but at the same time, it’s beautiful and redemptive. This translates to their live sound, too, which is defined by soaring shoegaze beauty and crushing weight. Apart from the metal drummer, they look positively straight. It’s a real contrast with the heavy beyond heavy noise and subterranean vocals. My notes peter out here as I’m blasted away on a tidal wave of megalithic guitars, big and bold enough to flatten trees.

There wasn’t a weak band on the bill or a single twat in the venue (however much I jibe my mates). If proof were needed of Human Worth’s capacity as curators, this is it. The world might be descending into aa tsunami of shit right now, but at least we know there are at least some good guys on the planet.

Christopher Nosnibor

Apart from a couple of dates earlier in the year, it’s been a fair while since OFF! toured the UK. This visit consists of half a dozen dates, taking in Dublin, Glasgow, Bristol, Brighton, and Pitchfork Music Festival in London – which makes York a real outlier. Leeds, you’d probably expect – having previously brought the noise to The Brudenell and Belgrave – but York? The Crescent has been going front strength to strength in recent years, and with some bold booking (notably, tonight’s show is hosted as a ‘Brudenell Presents…’ event), the 350-capacity venue has been bringing some impressive names to a city that for many years languished as a musical backwater.

OFF! certainly qualify as an impressive name. As a founding member of both Black Flag and the Circle Jerks, Keith Morris is indisputably one of the key figures of the original hardcore scene. Since hooking up guitarist-producer Dimitri Coats (Burning Brides), they’ve built a supergroup that’s been tearing up venues since 2009. And the reason they’ve such a strong following isn’t because of who’s in the band, but because they deliver pure, back-to-basics hardcore punk: hardly any effects pedals, no gimmicks or banter, just song after song, most under two minutes long, played as hard and as fast as is humanly possible.

This current iteration finds them boating a powerhouse rhythm section comprising bassist Autry Fulbright II (…And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead) and drummer Justin Brown (Thundercat, Herbie Hancock).

In tow, they have Washington DC punk duo Teen Mortgage. They shuffle into the stage crowded with kit (it’s not a tiny stage, but two big drum kits plus some beefy backline don’t leave much room. The singer / guitarist is wearing a Motorhead T and has patches of Misfits and the like on his jeans. He greets the crowd with a drawling “Whassuuup?” and then they’re straight down to business. The duo sound cheap, trashy and in places slightly thin by design: they’re not into the new trend of heaps of effects and splitting the guitar through two cabs or whatever. They’re doing it the old school way, fast and frantic, and with the drums dominating. The result is rather like DZ Deathrays with the addition of twirling drumsticks. Nothing technical or complex, just two guys making a racket and at fast pace. And it’s ace, because it’s so immediate. The crowd – and it’s a decent turnout – recognise this and the moshing gets going early on.

OFF! don’t piss about either. Again, there’s absolutely nothing fancy about their or their setup. Brown has the band’s name in strips of electrical tape on the bass drum. The kit looks battered, and there are just a few bottles of water and mugs of herbal tea on stage – and again, barely any effects pedals.

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OFF!

Keith Morris may have started his careers as an angry young man, and now he’s an angry old man who still performs with the passion of an angry young man. This guy really puts so many bands a fraction of his age to shame. He’s now into his late 60s, but doesn’t stop for breathers, there are no instrumental breaks while he recovers himself: instead, he rants away as feedback streams from the stage between songs. The bald spot is now covered by a hat, and the dreadlocks are down past knees. But other than this, little is different from the times I saw them in 2012 and 2014: the hand-written setlist is still several feet long, consisting of half a ream of sheets taped together and they power through almost thirty songs in less than eighty minutes. Bam! Bam! Bam! Song after song, each one blasting in, bamalamalamalam and stop! The moshpit grows and grows, and the energy in the room is fantastic. And then they’re done: quick, clean, and efficient, this is hardcore at its best.

Christopher Nosnibor

It’s been a while since I attended one of these short Sunday matinee shows, but last time I did – last spring, when Snakerattlers launched their album – I was absolutely sold on the concept of a band or two and a couple of pints after Sunday lunch. Dan Gott – of Snakerattlers, JUKU, and gig promoters Behind the White Door – is one of those people who likes to do something different, and it’s great to see him coming back to this idea.

Since the last time I came to one of these, a lot has happened, and now being a single parent to a primary-school age daughter and with no relatives on the county makes getting out on a night nigh on impossible, so this offered me a rare opportunity to get out for beer and live music. I’m clearly not the only one who digs the short matinee format, with around fifty punters occupying the dark space rather than basking in the beer garden.

Before the show, the partner of one of the guys from Wasted Denim is explaining to their kids, sensibly sporting ear defenders, the process of the soundcheck, and there’s something warming about this kind of environment, and speaks volumes about the bands, the venue, and the organisers.

It’s good for bands, too, opening up the possibility of playing two shows in a day, getting paid twice, and selling merch to two sets of punters. Or simply to get home ein decent time ahead of dayjobs the following morning.

Wasted Denim’s singer has a Black Flag tattoo and the drummer is wearing a Bad Religion T-shirt. The Leeds trip piledrive through the songs – fast, short, Ramones meets The Clash meets The Ruts, all with a gritty hardcore edge – with zeal, blurring together only separated by a call of ‘onetwothreefour!’ Songs like ‘You’re Gross’ and ‘I don’t Wanna be a Dickhead’, introduced as a song about personal wealth, aren’t works of lyrical genius by any stretch, but that’s not what punk’s about. It’s immediate, it’s raw. And they’re as tight as hell. Sure, they only have one tempo – fast – and four chords, but more is just showing off anyway. The set gets faster as it progresses. They’re fun, and seem like decent guys, too.

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Wasted Denim

I’d been forewarned that JUKU would be seriously loud, threatening ‘Thunderclap drumming, distorted to holy fuck guitars, massive riffs and a clean feminine vocal cutting through the massive wall of noise.’ With Snakerattlers Dan and Naomi Gott on guitar and bass/vocals respectively, this relatively new quartet are a world away from the duo’s reverb-heavy swamy psychedelic surf-rock. There’s no twang or space to longer here: every second is pure density, the sonic equivalent of driving headlong into a brick wall.

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JUKU

And yes, they’re loud as fuck. Opener ‘Hot Mess’ opener is a throbbing stomper of a tune, with monster big balls and massive swagger. ‘Pressure’ ups the pace and the adrenaline. ‘Trigger’ shows a more sensitive side, and more of a pop aesthetic, but it’s still propelled by a monster riff and pulsating rhythm section. Naomi’s vocals are a strong asset – gutsy, but nuanced. ‘I’m no fun’, she sings on ‘No Fun’, which is absolutely storming, and it so happens, a lot of fun. Sharing vocal duties back and forth on ‘We Don’t Belong’, Dan screams his lines adding another layer of dynamics, while ‘Devil Inside’ exploits quiet / loud grunge dynamics to strong effect, before ending the set with the 100mph ‘No No.’

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JUKU

At times, New York punk and No Wave leanings come to the fore in a set that’s driving, hard-edged, aggressive. Boasting solid hooks and blistering energy, it’s mint, and Dan taking advantage of being wireless and taking his guitar around the venue as he chugs out beefy chords adds to the energy. They kick out nine songs in twenty-five high-impact minutes. In terms of the set’s structure, it’s faultless: if they record these nine songs and release them in this order, they’ve got a killer album on their hands already. The world needs to hear it.

Christopher Nosnibor

My openness to different genres has expanded substantially in the fifteen years since I began reviewing as a ‘proper’ thing fifteen years ago, although it’s perhaps only more recently that I’ve come to truly be accommodating of, and even appreciate, overtly jazz works. It’s been quite a journey. But I still very much have limits of what I can handle, meaning I can dig Cinema Cinema’s free jazz period and the warped rackets of The Necks and Sly and the Family Drone, and recently, I’ve dug the new album by Anna von Hausswolff, but not Trondheim Jazz Orchestra & The MaXx. But I haven’t witnessed this kind of stuff live, really.

Presented with a rare opportunity to get out for some beer and live music, and with travel options rather limited, I found Leeds and York offering slim pickings for tonight, and since I wasn’t on the market for third-generation ‘nu’ metal, I elected to make a trip to Hyde park Book Club, a venue I know and like, despite the long hike from (and back to) the train station, and haven’t visited since August 2020, when Talkboy played an acoustic set. Those inter-lockdown socially-distanced seated gigs where going to the bar was against the rules were strange and feel like another lifetime now.

It’s also been a long time since I spent any real time in Leeds, with recent trips being confined to car / train – gig – home: today, I got to spend an afternoon wandering between pubs, and sitting and reading and people watching over a few leisurely pints. Living in the rather conservative, white, middle-class and socially un-diverse York, I’d forgotten about Leeds, fashion… There are still hipsters, lot of hipsters… and beards, lot of beards… and also mullets… Above ankle drainpipes… Cropped vests… Flat caps… and moustaches: lots of moustaches.

Leeds trio Slozbo Kollektiv are first up, and they serve up a set of the kind of clean, crisp, technical noodling that never really seems to get going or take form. or find a groove… Initially, I’m struck that the drumming is as tight as fuck and the way he handles his sticks is something worth watching. He uses an array of broken cymbals to create a whole host of far-out percussive effects, laying one atop the snare to create a different kind of clatter… But then how tight is the playing when there are no rhythms to speak of, only rattles and bursts of percussion? The set is defined by so much discord and busyness… I find my thoughts becoming as fractured as the compositions. There are, it would seem, extremely tight structures here, but they’re chaotic, esoteric, and non-linear…. Playing two guitars and a horn simultaneously… How many notes can they fit into a bar? Vocals seem fairly redundant, and I come to thinking that they sound like shit musicians pretending to be good ones by playing as many notes as fast as possible and not knowing when to stop. It made for the longest 40 minutes ever.

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Slozbo Kollektiv

Fergus Quill’s ensemble features the same fascinating drummer, and the bassist from Slozbo Kollektiv is the keyboardist, and again he removes his sandals to play. Compared to Slozbo Kollektiv, this lineup brings more groove, more noise, and a bit of space rock, but still a lot of wanking with the added ‘bonus’ of some big ska overtones. No. Just no. And using your thigh as a mute for a sax? Also no. It does kinda work, but looks ridiculous. Fergus’ counting on of not only the tracks, but each section after a meandering detour gets tiresome and predictable, too.

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Fergus Quill

Selecting lineups for gigs is not easy: a little bit of range can make for great energy and an interesting night, but too diverse and it simply doesn’t work. A lineup of similar bands is sure to draw punters who will likely appreciate all the bands on the bill, but can lead to a surfeit of sameness, something which can happen in any genre, but was particularly prevalent during the post-rock explosion circa 2004. By the time you’ve stood through three instrumental post-rock acts with their extended passages of chiming guitar interspersed with crescendos, you’re weary of it all by the time the headliners take the stage.

And so it is when Shatner’s Bassoon take the stage. I’m flagging, all jazzed out. Their material – and tonight they’re airing new material ahead of recording it for their forthcoming album – is more structured, atmospheric, building and forming shapes. There are some solid rhythms, moments where they actually settle into something for a time, instead of a constant explosion of sound in all directions all at once. They’ve clearly put the rehearsal time in, and there are all the tempo changes, enough to give you whiplash as they leap and lurch from one segment to another. People are really wigging out down the front, albeit mostly members of the support acts. It all starts to get a bit much after a time: they deal in discord, and the guitar sounds like twanging elastic bands. It’s when I see a guy nonchalantly bopping along from one space to another while clicking his fingers by way of applause I decide I’ve had enough.

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Shatner’s Bassoon

There’s no knocking their musical proficiency or adeptness in their field, but there’s noise and there’s noise, and it’s just how I’m wired that once thrills me and the other bewilders, and when you’ve got a bunch of people on stage all playing as hard and loud as they can but not, seemingly, all playing the same tune, I find it hard to dig. For all that, it was good to get out, and they definitely put on a show.

Christopher Nosnibor

It’s been quite a week for Benefits. Kicking off an extensive UK tour in the same week as the release of their debut album, which has landed to universal critical acclaim, they’ve come a long way, and they know it better than anyone. It’s small wonder they’re fired up for this return to Leeds, which is where it all started in terms of their journey as a live act, and which has seen them transition from a homespun lockdown project into a national act with a following that’s growing by the day, due in no small part to their formidable live performances.

But to step back a moment and consider the album, of which myself I wrote a suitably efficiently enthusiastic review of just the other day: ‘universal critical acclaim’ is no mere hyperbole. Sometimes, a release by a major artist will receive a set of (very similar) reviews in the major press which almost feel like there’s been some kind of advance agreement on a consensus that this is one of their ‘good’ albums or a ‘return to form’ or whatever, with only one or two outliers, more often than not in more alternative channels. These moments strike as somewhat suspicious, since you clearly can’t please all of the people, even some of the time when it comes to something as subjective as music.

And yet Benefits have defied all of everything with the reception for Nails. Sure, an interviewer for Louder Than War suggested that the album was ‘depressing; and admitted it wasn’t something he envisaged listening to much, but the site’s review was roundly positive.

This unanimity is testament to the band’s unifying message: while some may find the barrages of noise challenging, there is absolutely no denying their sincerity, passion, or the power of the truth spoken in the lyrics, making Benefits THE voice of the disaffected here in Shit Britain. You might think that having just expended nearly a thousand words on the album the other day I’d be all out of words for benefits, but I’m just warming up, because the more I see and hear them, the more I have to say.

As the place packs out and the queue at the bar packs as deep as the clamour for the front, guitar / drums duo Scrounge entertain us with a vigorous set. They’re a pleasant surprise who start out suggesting that they’re ramshackle punkers with a murky distorted guitar sound, before, over the course of their set, revealing that they’re so much more. Unexpectedly melodic, with some chiming guitar tones, they deliver some proper songs with tunes and choruses, and incorporating both acoustic drums and drum pads, they vary the sound and style throughout the set. They’re indie, but with guts, and remind me in places of A Band of Susans.

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Scrounge

Something has changed since Benefits last came to Leeds, and it’s not just the drummer – although Cat Myers is stunning, and her contribution can’t be overstated. This is my third time seeing the band, and the third drummer I’ve seen them with, and Cat really brings a rare level of sonic articulation to the dynamic of the sound. She doesn’t just drum: she drives the colossal walls of noise blasted out by the Major brothers. They’ve never sounded better: the dual-synth noise assault is crisps and clear and subject to perfect separation tonight, meaning the tones and frequencies really hit hard; the bass shakes the bowels while the treble vibrates the nostrils (I take it’s that’s not something only I experience) as they blast through ‘Marlboro Hundreds’: just as it’s the perfect album opener, it’s the perfect set-opener, too, and following with ‘Empire’ again delivers that antagonistic blast of noise and rage that’s utterly flooring.

But as I said, something has changed. They seem more confident – not cocky by any stretch, still as humble as ever – but assured, while the crowd – perhaps there are more here who’ve been swayed by the acclaim – is a but chattier in pockets, which is irritating, but contrasted by the number of people who are shouting the lines back to the stage. There are more calls out, too – not heckling, per se as it’s not critical, but a keenness to engage, bantz (perhaps not best recommended, but indicative of the level of exuberance in the room) and even hands out for high fives (perhaps not best recommended, but indicative of the level of exuberance in the room).

‘Divide and Be Conquered’ delivers a deep dance groove while Kingsley throws rockist mic stand poses, before they take it down a notch with ‘Shit Britain’ with its shuffling beats and splashes of samples.

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Benefts

As I said, the more you listen, the more you discover: they’re not just shouting and walls of noise, and the set’s variety is something that stands to the fore, perhaps more so with the benefit (boom) of familiarity: ‘Warhorse’ is a raw punk, while ‘Council Rust’ is sparse; ‘Thump’ brings a white noise blitzkrieg ahead of a muscular rendition of fan-favourite ‘Flag’, which is utterly devastating.

Kingsley sits, slumped on the drum riser or on all fours between songs later in the set: he pours every ounce of energy and emotion into every line, and while there is clearly an element of performance about a Benefits show, more than anything, it’s about giving it all to every show, every song, every line, every word. This is fucking real. And that’s what people respond to. The music may be aggressive, harsh, delivered right in your face, but it’s unifying.

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Benefits

Hall can barely stand after an extended and ultra-intense rendition of ‘Traitors’, but still just finds the juice for the (not really) encore of ‘Taking Us Back’, which swings into arena rock and which shouldn’t work, but does in fact provide the perfect finish to a set which eschews genre limitations and showcases a band channelling by whatever means, and doing so with colossal force. The experience leaves me too socked in the mouth to wrap up with a pithy one liner or anything smart. Just… fuck, yeah.

Christopher Nosnibor

Kirk Brandon has to be one of the hardest-working men in British music: if he’s not touring with Spear of Destiny, it’s Theatre of Hate or Dead Men Walking or otherwise recording new albums or rerecording old ones with either SoD or TOH. You’d think he’d be knackered, but he’s got no shortage of energy and is in good voice – he sounds absolutely no different – as he leads the band through a career-spanning set.

They don’t ease in gently, either, storming through an opening clutch of songs beginning with ‘Rainmaker’, followed by ‘Radio Radio’, ‘Young Men’ and the rabble-rousing ‘Liberator’. On a personal level, I’m particularly happy with this, as One Eyed Jacks is a particularly favourite album of mine.

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‘Pilgrim’, from last year’s Ghost Population breaks the run, but sits well in the set, built around a beefy guitar chug. It also shows how, as much as they’re a ‘heritage’ band – Kirk jokingly comments on how many of their more recent songs are twenty-five years old now – who are more than happy to crank out the oldies for the fans who grew up with these songs, they’re also very much a going concern and an active, writing and recording band with something still to say and a knack for big, anthemic tunes. They’re great to watch, too: the guitarist plays his solos with his face – it’s particularly fun to watch him mouth the long bendy notes, and the drummer’s a face-player, too. Flippancy aside, though, there’s a lot to be said for the pleasure of watching a band who are into what they’re doing performing, especially when it’s a band who’ve got a wealth of live experience under their belts and they’re just really good, it’s a source of joy. The joy among the crowd is self-evident: it may be toward the older demographic, but they’re here to have a good time and to get moving down the front.

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It’s the first night of the tour, and the intro to ‘So in Love with You’ sounds a shade rough but once they’re through it, it’s belting, and keeping the energy up, they follow up immediately after with ‘Never Take Me Alive’ immediately after – and it’s only mid-set. There are people at the bar singing along while ordering pints, and it’s a heartwarming experience all round.

If the main set is perhaps shorter than expected, it leaves time for a lot of encore, where ‘Judas’, from 2000’s Volunteers proves to be a standout as they wrap up a cracking set.

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With no support, they’re on early and off early, and it’s not simply age that makes a 10:30 finish a welcome thing: with public transport in the state it’s in, with busses stopping early and trains being utterly fucked and often replaced by busses or nothing at all, it makes travelling even locally to gigs difficult at a time when the night-time economy is struggling. It’s good, then, to see venues adapt to cater for the punters – and judging by how packed the bar was an hour before the show (and the fact one of the hand-pulled beers ran out by 9pm), there’s a fair chance they sold a decent amount of beer on top of the tickets.

For all the crap in the world, good bands and good venues are still thriving. And it seems York is finally on the gig circuit proper. Yusss!