Posts Tagged ‘DIY’

Watch: ‘Last Superstar Alive’ by Lola Pony

Posted: 28 September 2026 in Singles and EPs, Recommended Streams and Videos
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Lola Pony is a Mexican, lesbian, neurospicy, trashartivist performer and DIY musician. She produces with anything she can get her hands on – keyboards found in the bins, eclectic samples of life, her friends’ instruments, and her voice – as showcased in her hedonistic debut album Pink Trash Chicken.

Now, she’s released her theatre inspired finale, via a music video for uber contagious lead-single ‘Last Superstar Alive’.

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Her performances are bonkers, powerful, and needed, believing that happiness and love are the cornerstones of revolution – and everyone is invited! Trained in the performance arts since the age of 5, Lola Pony studied vocal jazz at Berklee Latino College of Music and toured Mexico with her former band, Foxy Blues.

Recently selected for a three-month Artist Residency at Cartel Studios, London, Lola Pony’s new music showcases the fruits of her summer. In her ‘Bad Girl Pt. I (b.a)’ music video, she assures us that she just wants to have fun, and that came across strong via her wacky, tongue-in-cheek music video.

She has come to be known for being unapologetically real, from her controversial single LOLALOLALOLA, criticising institutionalised paedophilia, femicides and human trafficking in Mexico, to her advocacy for human rights with ACT UP (where she volunteers), with her being interviewed by National TV in Mexico and The Telegraph.

However, it’s the new single, Last Superstar Alive, that steals the show and at just a little over 1-minute long, launched her debut album with a boom.  Theatrical and groovaliciously infectious, it’s a reminder that Lola Pony is just as musical as she is activist, as she is art.

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Oort Clod / Chaffinch / BitchCraft / Llama Mollo – Fulfordgate Social Club, 19th September 2026

Posted: 20 September 2026 in Live, Reviews
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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.

Might / Noisepicker – The Duck and Drake, Leeds, 17th September 2026

Posted: 18 September 2026 in Live, Reviews
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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.

Pleb – Grease Trap

Posted: 4 August 2026 in Reviews, Singles and EPs
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Human Worth – 7th August 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

Having thoroughly enjoyed the churning racket of Leeds grindcore / sludge / infernal racket duo Pleb when they opened for Unsane at The Brudenell in April, the announcement of their debut EP being released on the esteemed Human Worth label came as excellent news. And even better news is that they absolutely deliver on the promise of the live show here.

The credits very much summarise the two players’ contributions, with D. Fraser providing ‘Guitar / Feedback Hell’, and S. Myles doing ‘Drums / Squawks / Grunts’.

This is one serious fucking racket, and it would be a massive letdown if it was anything else, with eight songs and a total run time of just over ten minutes. There’s no pissing about here, just squalls of feedback and rasping, rabid vocals barking away low in the mix amidst the churning dingy noise. But then, this was always going to be the case. Check their pedigree: between them, their CVs list Cattle, Grub Nap, Groak – luminaries of the Leeds DIY noise scene that’s been thriving in tiny pub venues and basements and rehearsal rooms and the like for an age. It’s a tight-knit, but incredibly welcoming scene that’s spawned countless bands all committed to making the most ferocious, ugly noise imaginable. And with Grease Trap, you don’t have to imagine it.

And despite being just the two of them, it sounds like a full band, the guitar signal split to provide grinding low end and raging feedback at the top simultaneously. The result is a devastating sonic blast that assaults the senses with all frequencies. But why Grease Trap? The band explain:

“A grease trap is a tank that folks stick under the sink in a place that deals with food, it’s supposed to stop clumps of food and fat from going down the drain. There was one down our gaff and we had to empty it when we first moved in and I’ve never smelt owt like it. Me and our lasses dad were boaking the whole time while carrying buckets of foul stinking water up and down the corridor to try and wash the bloody thing out. Feels like that’s where we’re at as a society at the moment, we had all this stuff in place to try and stop things from going wrong but everything is rotting from the inside out and it’s poisoning the water supply. Greed is absolute, hatred is being weaponised and apathy is apparently cool again somehow. These songs are about the world wide descent into Fascism, the dutty roz, that orange bastard, our entire generation not breeding cos we’re in a hostile environment, technology turning us inside out, our inability to face our own problems without decking it and a bunch of other fun stuff. It doesn’t offer any solutions but sometimes you need to scream into the abyss eh?”

Lacking a grease trap myself, and my house having been built circa 1890 and still connected to the original ceramic Victorian plumbing which connects to the (also Victorian) drain system, I’ve had to invest in a set of drain rods, which are subject to regular usage to unclog backups that threaten to plug my back yard. they seem to be caused predominantly by mini fatbergs congealed around masses of hair (which evidently aren’t mine). And I can confirm that the job is nothing short of rank, dragging out clods of stinking clumps of sludge. it still doesn’t stink as badly as Reform, though, or, judging by footage online, as much as Trump when he nods off and soils himself. Rotten politics, rotten behaviour, rotten intestines, it would seem.

This is all of the above compacted into the most intense sonic explosion. It distils the rage at the fetid state of Western culture and the sewer state of our politics, our media, social media and blasts with complete abandon, and titles like ‘CLODS OF SHIT AND BONE’, ‘THE BRUISES MEAN IT’S ON THE WAY OUT’ and ‘THE EYES MELT FIRST’ sound exactly as you’d expect. With Grease Trap, Pleb vent the rage in the rawest, most direct fashion. And it absolutely hits the spot.

PS fuck fascism.

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Craic Killers – Who Said I Was…

Posted: 15 July 2026 in Reviews, Singles and EPs
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12th July 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

Anyone who says politics should be kept out of music is talking bollocks. An integral part of musical history is the music of protest, and of music which speaks of the times. While not necessarily protest-based, many dark moments of history are captured within traditional folk songs – long before the 60s gave us a whole new model for folk music as a vehicle for protest. Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, Pete Seeger, and Cat Stevens are just the first few names which come to mind as artists who picked up an acoustic guitar and used it to voice their anti-war sentiments, and it’s a mantel that’s been carried by many since, perhaps most prominently by Billy Bragg.

The arrival of punk brought a different kind of dissenting voice – one that was angry, nihilistic, and wasn’t so much anti-war as anti-everything, seeking to smash the system and stick it to the man. It shat the establishment up for a while, too, because it was brash, menacing, and felt violent, dangerous. This was Thatcher’s Britain: unemployment was up, there were strikes galore and discontent was more than rife. Of course, the major labels saw pound signs and signed punk bands left right and centre and before long, many acts were defanged by the wheels of capitalism in motion. And so the true punks stuck to, or remained resolutely, DIY, and while punk’s undergone a host of mutations since 1977, it still has both the sound and the vibe – particularly in the DIY scene – that positively yells ‘anti-establishment’. And this is, essentially, Craic Killers in a nutshell. The London-based Irish duo take certain cues from Kneecap, who, while having drawn heat from ‘the establishment’ are widely lauded for being not only outspoken, but sticking to their (metaphorical) guns in the face of litigation and more.

Before we get to the music, it’s worth taking a moment to consider the question of what constitutes ‘the establishment’ these days. Farage will tell you he and Reform and seeking to unsettle the status quo, to challenge the establishment and that they represent the man in the street who is fed up with not being represented by politicians in parliament. Bankrolled by tax-evading millionaires and billionaires whose funds reside off shore and who seek to siphon off even more wealth for their own personal gain, this is patent bullshit, and making those men on the street angry because they’ve been tricked to believe it’s the fault of immigrants that they’re poor and local services are shit is a massive con. The establishment does not exist to serve the regular worker. The establishment’s ethos is built on the foundations of the worst of capitalism, and this is why the establishment – both here in the UK, and particularly across the pond – is so hell-bent on dismissing any ideology that’s even remotely left (by which I mean, they hate welfare of any kind, particularly free healthcare, because ultimately, they don’t believe the poor deserve to live), and why they’re so desperate to crush dissent. It’s not because they believe protesters are terrorists, but because they hate to be exposed, and also can’t stand to see their absolute power and total authority challenged. There is much wrong with all of this, and more.

And Craic Killers are calling it out. All of it. As they tell it, ‘The new work goes in on the Epstein elite, MAGA bootlickers and major government failures such as the PSNI & TFL. Who Said I Was… matches the first EP’s intensity and themes of world collapse with a more refined sound.

It’s hard to argue any of that, really. Released last October, Who TF is Craic Killers? was a full-throttle blast of super-lo fi electropunk fury. Part of its appeal was the lack of production, rendering it the very quintessence of DIY. Cleaning up the sound is by no means selling out, especially when Who Said I Was… still sounds like it was recorded in a 4-track app on a smart phone. They rip into Andrew Tate and the ‘manosphere’, blast ICE, and tackle issues closer to home: certainly, the PSNI (Police Service of Northern Ireland) and their actions aren’t widely reported further afield, but as the sole note which accompanied the single release simply stated ‘All Peelers Are Bastards (and pedos)’. Trust in police is at a low eight now, for so many reasons, and the recent appearance of ‘ACAB’ graffitied under the bridge which carries the A64 over the River Ouse near where I live (alongside ‘Fuck Nazis’) is telling of the mood, I feel.

With the exception of ‘GIMMIE’ (released as a single in June), none of the six songs run over three minutes – but all of them are delivered with a ragged, riotous energy. By which I mean these guys are absolutely fucking fearless, and relentless in their intensity. ‘TFL’ may be slower and lower, but it’s dingy and abrasive, the vocals somewhere between hardcore punky shouting and really aggro rapping, while the closer, ‘Public Relations’ is unexpectedly catchy, but still as scuzzy as fuck.

It’s worth spending some time and a few listens to pick out the lyrics, but Who Said I Was… hits like a back-and-forth slap round the chops from the very first bar and keeps it going to the end. This is precisely what punk is about: impact, going in hard, no compromise. They don’t come much more punk than Craic Killers.

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Craic Killers Promo image 1

Utterly Fuzzled #12: Cowtown / Steatopygous / Chaffinch – Fulfordgate Club, York, 11th July 2026

Posted: 12 July 2026 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

Is it possible for there to be too much happening? This evening’s show was brought forward to a matinee start with 8pm finish in order to accommodate England’s World Cup quarter final match with its 10mp kick off. And while another tasty lineup headlined by Soma Crew on the other side of town got rescheduled, there’s also Super Furry Animals headlining one of the city’s biggest nights of the year at The Museum Gardens, and York Races. These are the challenges which can face promoters – and given other issues, like the first band on the original bill having to pull out because of being unable to make the earlier time slot, and Steatopygous having van issues that resulted in their having to cancel their Glasgow show the night before and having to be rescued from limbo in Leeds, it’s little short of a miracle that tonight even went ahead, let alone that people turned up.

It’s oft said that most music reviewers are failed musicians – usually by the kind of cynics who trot out lines like ‘if you can’t do, teach’, while themselves being incredibly self-satisfied by their having never attempted anything to fail at. And so it is that I find myself here as a last-minute replacement for The Pennydrops, who had to cancel, and while it’s true that the early doors meant the vast majority turned up after my set, I’d call getting to blast my racket without clearing the room a success.

Chaffinch may visually resemble York band Knitting Circle with an additional guitarist, but they’re very, very different indeed. And here, playing their fifth ever show, they cement the differences, not just sonically, but in terms of presentation, with all but the drummer playing the majority of the set in front of the stage, largely with their backs to the audience, with the jabbing twin guitars playing against and across one another to forge jolting No-Wave discord atop shuddering bass and powerful syncopated drumming. Their set is rapidly evolving, too, with a couple of new songs packed into their succinct and thrilling set.

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Chaffinch

It’s here that I should once again highlight the eclecticism of Utterly Fuzzled lineups. As much as they do perhaps have a leaning towards indie, alternative rock, contemporary punk and post-punk, as Jo Dale explained to me in a recent interview, their fundamental criteria are ‘Absolutely no all-male line-ups! …We’re not genre specific, between us we have very wide musical tastes. Basically, if it excites us then we want to put it on, simple as that really’.

Even so, having seen Wiltshire four-piece Steatopygous (whose name, incidentally, means fat or prominent buttocks) advertised as ‘teenagers playing high-energy punk with a rather 90s riot grrrl feel’ and trading in ‘raging expressions of angered feminist teenage anguish did nothing to prepare me for the full-on aural assault that incorporates elements of hardcore and metalcore. With heavy, filthy bass dominating the dense sound, I’m at times reminded of the dirty noise rock of Fudge Tunnel, only rendered all the more terrifying by Poppy’s throat-rippingly demonic vocals. A high, crisp snare cuts through the sludge noise. But there’s subtlety and detail to their sonic palate, too. Mellow passages border on folk, with spoken word segments, showcasing some intelligent and articulate songwriting that’s so much more than mere rage. That said, their fiery and passionate final song, is a beast and whips up a mini-moshpit down the front, and that’s no small feat when it’s absolutely melting.

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Steatopygous

So after extreme electronica, angular no-wave noise rock, and multi-faceted hardcore, Cowtown are perhaps the most overtly indie / alternative act of the night, but the thing about Cowtown is that, well, they’re uniquely Cowtown. Stalwarts of the Leeds scene in the same way as Bilge Pump (and, more recently, Objections, and Thank, for that matter), it’s the quirkiness that’s as integral to their appeal as their commitment to the DIY scene. Oh, and songs, of course. They have some songs. Good songs, too. But what are they about? Tonight, we get to find out about some of them. And so do they, seemingly for the first time, too. This is a significant part of the great and enduring appeal of Cowtown: they never fail to entertain, and as they race through the songs – grunge and punk at heart, but with pop keen leanings –with unbridled energy and effervescence, there’s a joy which radiates from the stage: they genuinely love doing what they do – and tonight, Hilary is loving the gong, a fixture of Utterly Fuzzled events used primarily to herald the commencement of each set, but here, used as punctuation between songs, and equally, just for the fun of it. And ultimately, fun is what they specialise in, bringing a near-miraculous evening to a most uplifting finish.

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Cowtown

That Hidden Promise – Lifeform

Posted: 22 June 2026 in Reviews, Singles and EPs
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5th June 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

There’s a lot of music out there now. Eighteen months ago, it circulated in the news that there is now more music released daily than there was during the entirety of 1989. The research was conducted by MiDiA Research, and while I’ve not delved enough to uncover precisely how they reached the comparative volumes – there were DIY vinyl and cassette releases happening in 1989, and, while by no means commonplace, CD-R arrived on the market around 1988, arguably representing a significant step in the journey towards artists taking hold of the means of production for their work. Granted, these things are small-scale releases, but then so are the majority of those being released now: the point of the report is that artists no longer need management or a label or any of the more historical industry mechanisms to release their music, and now they have the potential for global reach.

‘It’s Breaking the Industry!’ was how Headphonesty reported the news. Well, fuck the industry. The industry are the main reason artists choose the DIY route – and not necessarily because they can’t get signed, but because they don’t want their production and sound and release schedule to be dictated, or to be bottom of the pile when it comes to the cut of the earnings from their work. ‘The Industry’ has changed, but while Spotify et al have been major players in terms of direct-to-platform releases by artists, they’re still very much industry in the sense that the last ones to get paid in their colossal operation are those who create the content.

Swerving the art vs content issue so soon after only last night’s piece, I would say out concern and sympathy should be with the artists and the listeners. Listeners are simply swamped, and artists risk sinking in an ocean of noise without reaching a fraction of the audience they deserve. And the algorithms do not help, which is why I personally take recommendations from people I know and trust, be they friends or trusted PR folks. Even then, there’s some sifting involved, and what’s more, it’s so easy to feel overwhelmed, or to simply switch off and let all this music congeal into a sonic wallpaper that provides a backdrop while you’re doomscrolling social media and news sites, wondering if the world will end tomorrow, or piling shit you don’t need into your basket on Amazon.

But sometimes, something will leap out from the hum and make you prick up your ears. And ‘Lifeform’ is one of those songs.

It’s That Hidden Promise’s first release in three years. The subject matter is weighty – and relatable – enough, an exposition of how we’re all part of the machine, cogs in the wheels of capitalism, with not just every hour of your waking life controlled by work (or the punitive benefits system if you don’t have work for whatever reason, including disability) but even how your waking / sleep patterns are not a matter of choice. Think that’s an exaggeration? How many times have you heard ‘I can’t come out tonight / stay out late because I’ve got work in the morning’? That is nothing short of total control, and the first verse is on point:

You’re not seeing, or thinking, just doing,

As a lifeform

Taking orders, cos that’s what you do,

Just a lifeform

Getting drained by the lies of the state,

Good little lifeform

Pushed around like atoms in the Hydron,

Cos you’ve just got to do what the system dictates

But what made me prick up my ears initially with ‘Lifeform’ was the delivery. It’s got a very strong 80s vibe, but it’s crossed with an early 90s indie feel – bright, choppy guitars and crisp drum machine dominate the mix, and the guitars layer up with some busy lead work. In places I’m reminded of Carter USM, but there’s more swagger and more groove, and the energy here is kinda sneery without being Oasis, with maybe more a feel of the early days of The Cooper Temple Clause. It’s also motorik, insistent, and catchy. And it’s 100% DIY.

This recommendation was brought to you not by an algorithm, but by a real living person who sifts through dozens of releases a day. No need to thank me…

AA

That Hidden Promise Promo1

Meno-pause for thought: Jo Dale talks about bands, DIY gig promotion, activism, and all things Fuzzled

Posted: 22 June 2026 in Interviews
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Interview by Christopher Nosnibor

Images supplied by Jo

The last year or so has seen Utterly Fuzzled nights become established as a notable feature of the live scene in York. I’ve written about a few of them in recent months. The lineups are invariably of a high standard, and always offer something different, with a mix of local acts and those from further afield – often the North East. Hosted at a working men’s club just over a mile or so to the south of the city centre – and just along the road from the renowned grass roots venue The Fulford Arms – they’re curated by Jo Dale and Pete Dale (who play together in Knitting Circle, and recently-added offshoot, Chaffinch, as well as Pete being a co-founder of lo-fi indie act Milky Wimpshake).

Being fresh from a triumphant tenth event – an outstanding two-dayer which saw Objections, Dragged Up, Silk Cuts (Exeter), and Count Florida (Glasgow) feature alongside some favourite York acts – I wanted to catch up with Jo to find out more about their operations, motivations, and plans.

CN for AA: What was the genesis of the Utterly Fuzzled nights, and is there any broad concept or ethos behind them?

JD: Pete and I moved to York in July 2022 and both had put on many gigs before. We just really wanted to put on some DIY bands who we love, so we put on a one-off called From the Vaults at the old Victoria Vaults venue in York. We know lots of bands from around the country and for both From the Vaults and Utterly Fuzzled, we have often made contact with old friends in bands to ask them to play – but equally we wanted to get to know new bands, that constant search for new bands, we wanted to create a platform to make that possible for ourselves and others, simple really.

In terms of ethos: treating bands well with a hot meal; paying them what we can, taking no money for ourselves but covering room hire, flyers, food for the bands, etc. before paying bands everything else; platforming female-identifying artists because we are fucking bored of seeing all-male bills, what else? I mean, just, putting on bands that we love and then curating events is fun, like, we like to create things that loosely go together but at the same time are quite different from each other. It’s become a community and something we really look forward to and we know others do and just about every event someone says ‘we really love this space and the people here, we feel like we fit into this space’. More than once, people have told us that it has made them feel at home in the City of York where they didn’t feel quite at home, where they found their space. Really it’s about diversity and community, if there is an ethos.

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Pete and Jo Dale with the Utterly Fuzzled stage banner

You’ve made The Fulfordgate WMC the home of your nights – a place hardly anyone even knew existed before your first event there. How did you come across it, and what made you choose it?

After From the Vaults, the Vaults unfortunately closed, we searched methodically our new home city of York for somewhere else to put gigs on and when we’d almost given up hope we stumbled across the Fulfordgate which also happens to be 10 minutes walk from our house! When Pete and I first walked in and met the super-lovely manager Christine and saw the octagonal dance floor and the disco ball, we knew we’d stumbled across somewhere very special.

How do you go about curating your lineups? Is there a formula?

Absolutely no all-male line-ups! We actively search out bands with female-identifying musicians in. We listen to all music that’s sent to us. We’re not genre specific, between us we have very wide musical tastes. Basically, if it excites us then we want to put it on, simple as that really.

What’s your assessment of the health of the York music scene right now? And from your experience, how does it compare to elsewhere?

York compares very well with Stoke where we were living for a few years. There was a tiny (but perfectly formed and friendly) music scene in Stoke but gigs were only occasional. In York there’s a lot more going on and it’s been great seeing and getting to know stalwart bands like Percy, Soma Crew, etc, and newer bands like the Bricks and Fat Spatula. It was great giving a debut platform for Flat Lights’ first show, we felt that was a real privilege, and we look forward to doing more of that in the future – support your local scene, it will support you!

Two things which always stand out about your events is a) the quality of the acts b) the diversity of the acts – and some, like Troutflies and Kar Pouzi, have been strongly experimental. Do you ever feel there’s a risk in showcasing more leftfield acts?

Putting on an Utterly Fuzzled gig is really hard work. There’s lots of behind the scenes work that goes on. For example, constant social media, running around putting up posters and fliers in your lunchbreak, designing those posters, flyering at gigs, liaising with bands and venue, all as a volunteer. So we feel very strongly that the bands that play Utterly Fuzzled must excite us, they must really make us want to put them on because otherwise what’s the point in doing all that hard work? If we’re going to ask people to spend hard-earned money coming to one of our gigs, we are determined that it’s going to be worth coming out for. When you’re watching a band, for that moment you’re just absolutely with that band, on an absolute high because they’re incredible, that’s the thing that we’re searching for, that moment of ‘Oh my god, they’re unbelievable!’

We do showcase quite leftfield things but we always mix it up, adding more accessible things in so there’s something for everyone. We don’t want to become niche: we’re very outward looking, we actively don’t want to have a niche. We’re always on the search for things that excite us, we’re not deliberately thinking ‘Ooh, that’ll shock them’, if we think we’re going to enjoy it then we’re going to put it on, if we think that we’ve heard it before then, no.

There’s been much debate of late – particularly in the US – about whether artists, particularly musicians – should involve themselves in politics. It’s clear where you stand on the topic, but would you like to detail your stance on it?

My activism comes out in my music, it’s not really a choice, it’s just who I am. Having been an animal rights, social justice and environmental campaigner since my teens, activism is always close by.

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Knitting Circle

With songs about immigration and fox hunting – among other things – is it fair to describe Knitting Circle as an ‘issues’ band?

Yes, but we do have songs that aren’t just about ‘issues’, we’re not just an issues band.

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You recently received some significant coverage for your song ‘Losing My Eggs’, which is about the menopause – something which remains severely misunderstood and its impact on women severely underappreciated. Did you feel as if you’d accomplished something beyond the music itself in being able to raise awareness and further the discussion of the topic in this way?

If it’s adding to the conversation about the menopause or helps someone’s partner or child to understand what someone’s going through, to be able to support somebody then yeah. If it helps women going through menopause to be seen then yeah. Pretty much every single Knitting Circle gig, someone will collar me after the set to talk to me about that song.

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Jo Dale

What’s in the pipeline for Knitting Circle, and what can we look forward to from future Utterly Fuzzled events?

For Knitting Circle, our album is recorded and mixed and will be out in the Autumn, probably November, we are working with two different amazing DIY record labels to make this happen. We are very excited to share it. We have 3 Utterly Fuzzled dates booked for the Autumn and we are curating the line-ups at the moment, the first of these dates being Saturday 19th September at the Fulfordgate  – expect full but wonky line-ups!

You can keep up to date with Utterly Fuzzled events and activities here …and Knitting Circle here.

Utterly Fuzzled #10 – Objections / Knitting Circle / Count Florida / The Bricks / Pope Joan / Dragged Up – Fulfordgte WMC, York, 6 June 2026

Posted: 9 June 2026 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

I’ve been frothing about the Utterly Fuzzled events for a while now, as being an absolute cornerstone of the remarkably vibrant York scene of the moment, and similarly, I’ve commented variously on the sense of community and the way the promoters support one another rather than compete. It’s perhaps a byproduct of these challenging times – noted from the stage by Objections during their set – whereby putting on gigs at this level is bloody hard work and largely a thankless task – and not without financial risk, either, which means that those who do it do so because first and foremost they’re passionate about music.

Times have certainly changed: back in the 80s and 90s, often regarded as a golden age for independent venues and new music, smaller places such as York were under the monopoly of greedy promoters who would operate pay to play and other unscrupulous policies which largely ensured that the bands – who had no money to begin with – took the risk while they got paid regardless. At least now there’s a certain sense of equality in that no-one gets paid.

This is their tenth event, which expanded into a two-nighter (A Fuzzlefest, if you will), of which this is the second, and the lineup is stacked – a veritable ‘Best of Utterly Fuzzled’, with four of tonight’s acts making a return (if we include Objections who played a pre-Fuzzled event before the name was formalised).

The fact that former headliners Dragged Up are late additions and opening proceedings, hitting the stage at 5:30 before hauling up to Newcastle (after playing Middlesborough the night before), is quite the coup, and testament to the strength of the connections organisers Jo and Pete have with the bands they put on.

Future single ‘Rapunzel’ lands mid set with guests vocals from Mel Whittle of fellow Glasgow act Count Florida – who are on later – and slides onto the chord sequence of Bauhaus’ ‘Dark Entries’ in the mid section. They close with a sprawling eight-minute monster about leopard print, which lands with far more impact in the room than it ever could on paper.

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Dragged Up

Pope Joan’s performance exemplifies everything that’s brilliant about the Fuzzled events – the spread of genres and the willing ness to showcase the oddball and experimental electronica amidst the guitar-based indie and post-punk and beyond. Pope Joan – formerly of Leeds act Casino Volante – brings a host of elements together with some quirky humour and a dash of strange. Initially, we get Stereolab meets Kraftwerk, evolving into some experimental synthy hip-hop with some mutant disco going on. Then at times it gets a but noisy, a bit DAF, a bit Cabaret Voltaire. The bants are awkward, and this seems to be part of the act, too. There’s a Yeah Yeah Yeahs cover that sounds more like Suicide – the band, that is.

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Pope Joan

Two weeks on from the last time I saw them, The Bricks are relaxed and on fine form. It’s a very different setting, and the fact they’re every bit as good playing through their backline as through a PA – and seem as comfortable – is an indication of just how well meshed they are as a unit. Gemma installs herself in front of the stage, and, with all the room, she makes the most of the space, charging about, radiating electric energy. And once again, she hollers her fucking lungs out, to the extent that she’s visibly and audibly spent every grain of her guts by the end of the set. It wouldn’t work if the band behind her weren’t the pinnacle of precision, though, and while they have lengthy debates about what song’s next and how it goes, once the first bar happens, they’re in the zone.

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The Bricks

Second Glasgow band of the night, Count Florida espouse vintage jangly indie, hinting at the sound of C86, but perhaps more pertinently that of the Postcard Label – something which is uniquely Scottish (despite their releasing a single by The Go-Betweens, who were Australian). They’re perhaps a little under rehearsed for a few of the songs, and while not necessarily performed to peak level, I couldn’t help but feel the effect of some of their deeply personal songs about death and about loss and needed to breathe for a couple of minutes after their set.

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Count Florida

Knitting Circle just get better, tighter, more confident, more comfortable with every performance. They might not think so, but they do. Even when looking tense and debating the set list, the way they react to audience call-outs and situations more generally shows an assurance that’s a measure of a band becoming truly established. They throw in the risky new material in early, and the second half of the set is, as ever, a showcase in choppy, issues-based post punk. On the subject of issues, Jo (vocals, bass) recently posted on Facebook how a recent review had made a deal of her choice of dress in contrast to the rest of the band, highlighting how deep sexism runs in all aspects of our culture – it’s particularly glaring in context of Pete’s remarkable shirt collection. When asking of the audience how the mix was, there was a call for him to turn his guitar up – fair enough, but equally, he might have turned his shirt down. Anyway, needless to say, they sound great.

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Knitting Circle

Objections are also well-liked around these parts, and further afield. I made precisely no notes during their set: I was simply hypnotised by the fretwork. They’re by no means a wanky band, but they are incredibly technical, and totally kinetic in their performance. They’re not exactly in the domains of Captain Beefheart’s Trout Mask Replica, but there is very much a sense of the three bandmembers each playing different tunes – but it all comes together, miraculously. Claire Adams’ bass switches between stop/start and booming groove, and it melds perfectly with the precision, jazz-style drumming of Neil Turpin, while Joseph O’Sullivan goes nuts in his own world making noise never before wrung from an electric twelve string. They’re completely unprepared when hassled for an encore, but after some debate, we get one. This is real, spontaneous. And it’s ace.

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Objections

This is live music at its best. Six bands for the price of a takeaway. Four have travelled: all six are worth the entrance fee. But it’s more than just about seeing some decent bands. It’s about the vibe, and the people, too. This is the very core of the live music scene.

Argonaut – Interrupted

Posted: 29 May 2026 in Albums, Reviews
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Criminal Records – 12th June 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

It’s a pretty bold move to open an album with a slow-paced and pretty bleak-sounding song which is more about dolorous atmosphere than chorus or hook. But then, Argonaut’s latest offering is pretty bold – albeit in an understated sort of a way. That likely sounds oxymoronic, so let me unpack it a bit.

After something of a purple patch, with the prolific spate of post-lockdown output which, over the course of a year and a bit and a new song each month saw the development of open-ended album Songs from the Black Hat (which ended up with a total of twenty tracks, with the inclusion of a couple of remixes), Argonaut were forced to make a change of pace. Life has a way of doing that – and events also resulted in a change of focus. The result is Interrupted – an album two years in the making, and by far the darkest and most introspective set of songs they’ve released. It’s not that the London DIY trio have always skirted darkness or introspection, but historically, it’s been balanced by lighter, poppier indie tunes. Now, though, they’ve embraced what one may call the therapeutic benefits of creativity, channelling – and coming to terms with – real-life issues and even trauma through those outlets.

As the accompanying notes lay things out quite plainly, Interrupted offers ‘Ten songs from the past year’s abyss, documenting breakdown, burnout, dementia, depression, memory, hope and healing’. This in itself is bold. Again and again, the conversation is ‘we need to talk about these things’, but the moment we do, there’s a sort of collective wince in society, on social media, among our friends even. We’re still not societally conditioned to deal with the difficult stuff. I can speak from experience here: following the loss of my wife at the age of 44, and finding myself as a single parent, I’ve had enough ‘well, I could be worse’ type responses to articulations of struggle to fill a book. And now, while witnessing the mental and physical decline of one of my parents, I’m finding a similar reluctance among friends to engage on a meaningful level on the subject.

Thankfully, there are always artists who are – not necessarily willing, but perhaps more compelled – to pour all of this into their work, perhaps because those in immediate proximity are found wonting when it comes to conversation, meaning that creative channels are the only channels available. The Twilight Sad’s latest album, The Long Goodbye is perhaps the most harrowing thing I’ve heard in years, but James Graham’s dealing with the loss of his mother to dementia through the songs is powerful beyond belief.

Interrupted, too, confronts real-life anguish. And so, after some digression, we return to that opening track. ‘We’re Not Hungry Anymore’ is a remarkable hybrid of jangly indie and post-grunge – the heavily chorused guitar carrying hints of Soundgarden’s ‘Black Hole Sun’, but mournful strings bring a different shade of melancholy, and Lorna’s vocal somehow manages to be cutesie and scared, giving vibes of Alison Shaw of Cranes. It culminates in a monumental crescendo.

Lead single ‘Leaves’ – which lands towards the end of the album – is similarly bleak, particularly Cure-esque and direct in its addressing emotional distress, here specifically on the topic of dementia. As Lorna writes on the single’s video, “I was thinking about the moon cycle and the new moon and wanted to incorporate that feeling into the music. The lyrics are about somebody who is getting older and their mind is starting to deteriorate. They can remember the past more than the present. I had the image of being lost in the woods and trapped inside their memories. It’s quite a personal song.”

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And in the personal lies the universal, the relatable. The last few times I’ve seen my mother, she’s talked mostly about her school days and her job. She’s 79, and has nothing much to talk about, and actually seems to recall very little, from any time since. She gets lost going to the village shop, despite having lived in the same village for a good twenty-five years. So yes, this resonates, and increasingly, friends – or friends of friends – tell of relatives – no longer just grandparents, but parents suffering a painful mental unravelling.

‘Hats Off’ lands in the region of Daisy Chainsaw remixed by The Cure, with a bassline that’s got the vibe of ‘Let’s Go to Bed’ while casting a nod to the niggly guitar bit in Prince’s ‘Kiss’ which fits with the post-punk pop funk vibe which goes some way to break the tension, and ‘I’m Not Getting Up After This’ is the perfect summary of a depressive episode, the encapsulation of both physical and mental exhaustion. ‘Sugarfree’ is one of the songs closest to what we’re familiar with from Argonaut, with Nathan’s gravelly, weary-sounding monotone providing a magnificent contrast to Lorna’s sweet, flighty tones, but something about it feels leaden, weighted – not in a lethargic way, but as if pulled by an emotional drag. ‘This Means Something, This is Important’, released a year ago while the album was still evolving, is another of the more upbeat, fizzy indie moments we’re used to, and ‘Unpredictable’ showcases their irrepressible pop penchant. The final track, ‘Rewind’ is heavy, Siouxsue and The Banshees gone sluge – it makes for a hard-hitting, climactic  finale.

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Interrupted is often dark, bleak, intense, and incredibly sad, but still packs its fair share of poppy punk tunes to provide some balance. It’s a difficult album, and rightly so. It’s not meant to be easy listening. It’s taut, its pop moments propelled by a thunking bass and motorik grooves. It’s also an album with many depths. It’s perhaps not an album we’d have expected from Argonaut, and it’s likely not an album they themselves expected, or would have wanted to make. But it’s emotionally honest, and that is bold. It’s also probably their strongest release yet.

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Argonaut, Interrupted Album_ Front

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