Posts Tagged ‘energy’

From the heart of Edinburgh’s underground, Kakihara return with Love Songs Part II, a raw, chaotic, and utterly unfiltered dose of metallic hardcore, and in advance they’ve unveiled the video for the EP’s lead single ‘Calamari.’

The band had this to say about the new track: “Because two minutes in heaven is better than one minute in heaven, ‘Calamari’ is our metallic-hardcore energy and mathcore chaos smashed into a single strike. It’s got jagged riffs, stop-start rhythms, and a punishing beatdoon that lands like a hen party on the Cowgate. The vocals cut through the melee with equal parts desperation and defiance, matching lyrics that flick between hopelessness and resolve. ‘Calamari’ shows exactly what we’re about, raw, unpolished, and built for the pit.”

Recorded live in a single living room and fueled by raw energy, Love Songs Part II captures the chaos and urgency of the band’s relentless live shows. Drawing inspiration from Converge, Coalesce, The Dillinger Escape Plan, Heaven In Her Arms, Envy, and Botch, Kakihara fuse mathcore dissonance, screamo textures, and punishing hardcore grit into something entirely their own.

Love Songs Part II will be released on December 5 via Ripcord Records.

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Blaggers Records – 2nd October 2025

Christopher Nosnibor

Continuing the thread of my review of the new Eville EP, which sees a young band push hard on the forward trajectory of a nu-metal revival, I find myself basking in the retro sound of ‘Anything,’, the latest offering from JW Paris, trashy indie / alternative trio from London. This isn’t some kind of nostalgia wank, whereby the 90s is largely misrepresented through the prism of Britpop (or grunge), but a cut that reminds us just how eclectic the 90s – particularly the first half of the decade – was. It was a melting pot of skewed guitar-led bands which were often lo-fi, ramshackle, bands who would grace the pages of Melody Maker but rarely play outside Camden, and the only way you’d ever hear any of their music would be by tuning in to John Peel, where they’d be wedged in between some weird dancy shit and the filthiest grindcore going, alongside something jangly on Sarah Records and something else entirely on Rugger Bugger records. And something by The Fall, of course.

‘Anything’, the lead track from their forthcoming EP, packs the essence of that period into just shy of three and a half energetic minutes. As much as it’s 90s indie / Britpop in its attitude, it’s the early Wonderstuff that comes through most strongly here. Before they became the beloved band of every cherry-red DM wearing sixth former, and way before the Gallagher brothers came onto the scene, Miles Hunt swaggered forth with colossal confidence, and songs that sizzled with snappy wordplay and hooks, and while I never really dug much after The Eight-Legged Groove Machine, they were exhilarating and fresh, and it’s this that JW Paris recreate here. The woo-ooh-wooooh backing vocals are a bit dandy Warhols, and there’s a lot going on, a lot of ideas and energy compressed into this neatly crafted nugget of a tune.

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Christopher Nosnibor

When you’ve singlehandedly created a new subgenre, what better way than to cement the trail you’ve blazed with a release bearing its name? This is precisely what Eville had done here with the Brat Metal EP. For the uninitiated, their unique contribution to the musical landscape has been to give the slugging, concrete-slab guitar riffery of nu-metal a makeover, and by blending it with strong pop elements and delivering it all with a strong, empowering feminist message and truckloads of attitude, they’ve kicked the whole ‘sports metal’ ‘rock for jocks’ kind of thing in the nuts and made it something that’s culturally relevant here in 2025.

Maybe I need to unpack ‘relevant’ here. It’s a fact that in music, what goes around comes around, and there are always cycles of recycling, revivals and renaissances, waves and generations. But a nu-metal revival always seemed unlikely because it was so patently uncool, even at the time. But here we are: a new generation is discovering Limp Bizkit, who are back and riding a wave that combines nostalgia for those who were in their teens around the turn of the millennium, and the fact their kids are now teens who are educating themselves with their parents’… what, Spotify playlists now? But more significantly, women are still having to fight just as hard now as they ever did just to hold ground. Sexism, misogyny, and abuse are rife, and there are enablers everywhere.

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This all makes Eville’s rapid ascent even more impressive, and something the world truly needs. It’s remarkable just how a flip can transform testosterone-led whiny shit into something truly powerful, and Eville have, over the course of a handful of single releases gone from being hopeful newcomers to Kerrang favourites performing Reading and Leeds with festival dates already on the calendar for 2026. There’s a very good reason for this: as I’ve been saying from their very inception, they’ve completely nailed their sound, are confident in their identity, and have killer tunes.

Brat Metal offers four more. None of the songs on here breach the three-minute mark, and all are thumping, riff-driven blasts bristling with hooks. ‘BR4T MBL’ powers in with a Prodigy / later Pitch Shifter vibe paired with sneering vocals which are autotuned to fuck for the verses, but then switch to a lung-busting guttural roar. Single cuts ‘No Pictures Please’ and ‘Accidents Happen’ bring real attack, sassy rap and stuttering beats colliding with force. In the former, ‘bitches’ takes on a different slant when delivered by a woman, and it feels like there’s a reclamation of sexist language happening here.

‘Bikini Top’ again brings the dense chug and squalling harmonics of Pitch Shifter, and at the same time offers the flippant lyrical simplicity of Wet Leg’s ‘Chaise Longue’ but it’s charged with the challenge to the male gaze, and it’s a lesson in how it’s possible to make music that’s heavy but accessible, to entertain while offering substance instead of mere fluff. Brat Metal shows that Eville can sustain the intensity and the quality over the duration of more than just standalone singles: it is packed solid, and their most focused document yet.

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Christopher Nosnibor

Last time The Birthday Massacre played York, three years ago, it was at the 150-capacity Fulford Arms. It was sold out. This time around, they’re at the 350-capacity Crescent. They’ve sold that out, too. Despite having been around since just before the turn of the millennium, The Birthday Massacre are very much a band on the up. It’s an unusual trajectory: more often than not, acts explode early on, perhaps building over the course of the second and third album, or the first five years, and then plateau, having established their fanbase. It’s true that they’re a great live act, and that their latest long-player, Pathways, is a cracker, but something has clearly happened here that goes beyond the surface of these raw facts.

One thing that’s apparent is that there are people here for all of the acts – people who are keen, too: within five minutes of the doors opening, the front two rows are packed solid and people aren’t budging. From experience, this does seem to be something of a goth gig thing: the level of dedication and devotion is way up there. But the demographic is a broad mix, and it does seem that for all the hardcore fans, there are a lot of casuals in tonight. Quite how they’ve come by The Birthday Massacre is hard to tell, but given how crisp and poppy Pathways sounds in contrast to the full-throttle industrial drive of the live show, the chances are a fair few of them will be in for a shock.

I’ve seen Ben Christo play many times… But this is my first time seeing Diamond Black. Although Diamond Black are his band, the heavy touring schedule of his dayjob work as lead guitarist with The Sisters of Mercy mean they don’t get out quite as much. They’re on ridiculously early – tickets and some event posting suggest it’s doors at 7:30 rather than the first band, but they play to a pretty packed house. I’m dubious about the platform centre stage which serves the purpose of providing ben a place to stand and throw poses, but he’s not particularly tall. More significantly, for all the 80-s rock stylings (think Mr Mister but with bigger guitars and thunderous bass) all the calls of ‘Hello York!’ and so on, it’s hard not to like them. Ben is clearly a straight-up nice guy and he loves doing what he does, and they’re big on positive messaging and facing up to mental health issues in an uplifting way. ‘Dark Anthems’ from the new EP is gothiest cut of the set, the verse’s guitar line worthy of the Sisters, before breaking into a chorus that’s pure anthemic pop. They’re likeable and fun, and sound great… what more do you need, really?

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Diamond Black

Lesbian Bed Death win for attention-grabbing name. They go all out on the stage set, too, with banners, mannequins, and a mic stand that’s composed of a strange animal skull atop a curved spine. In contrast with Diamond Black – and The Birthday Massacre – they’re darker, heavier, more metal, and they bring a more theatrical and punk style to the night. The name is a strong one, and works with a collective of predominantly female musicians… but it wasn’t always thus, and the band’s mastermind is the stumpy bearded guy in a Misfits T, and with a hat and a beer belly who goes by the name of Mr Peach. For reasons I’m unable to fully articulate, I’m always suspicious of men with beards trimmed so neatly at the neck. And having whipped out ‘the coolest’ guitar for the last song, it sounds like ass, and he switches back to his other guitar after just a few bars. But, objectively, with a set bursting with churning, slicing riffs, and gutsy, full-lunged vocals, their performance is solid quality and great entertainment.

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Lesbian Bed Death

As for The Birthday Massacre… Woah. They sound phenomenal. Studio quality. But real at the same time. With six bodies packed on stage they need to be co-ordinated, and they are – tight beyond tight. If the energy was electric on their last visit, they’ve unlocked a whole new level of intensity now. Midway through the set, they’re all dripping, hair lank and stringy, but they don’t let up for a second. There are no ballads for a breather, and the audience feed off the band’s energy who feed off the crowd who feed off the band… you get the idea.

Sara ‘Chibi’ Taylor may be compact, but she’s one hell of a presence, but at the same time, a friendly one: she hands out water after fanning a distressed fan on the front row and beams throughout the set like she’s won the lottery. And it’s clear that it’s not just her who’s enjoying herself: the whole band radiates an aura of pleasure as they crank out a dense industrial chug. Sweeping synths fill out the sound, as Owen Mackinder lurches around his keyboards and wields his keytar with an infectious exuberance. Amidst the strobes, this is a band with bounce. They start a clap-along with ‘Destroyer’, and it’s a powerhouse blast from beginning to end.

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The Birthday Massacre

It’s true that in the scheme of things, and by the marks of the genre, The Birthday Massacre are something of a NIN-lite pop band, but they’ve created their niche and nail it, and what’s more, it’s clear they’re enjoying themselves as mush as we are. The drumming on ‘Crush’ is immense, and the song builds to a euphoric climax.

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The Birthday Massacre

This time, they do play an encore, and keep the fans baying for more. But when did ‘one more song’ become a chant? If you want more, surely you really want MORE! (this doesn’t work so well at gigs by The Sister of Mercy, who never play anything on demand), but fortunately for us, The Birthday Massacre deliver not one, but three more songs. The reaction is incendiary and completely deserved. By the time they depart the stage, having dispatched twenty songs with explosive energy, it’s clear we’ve witnessed something special, a band at the very top of their game.

4th July 2025

Christopher Nosnibor

It may be coincidental that Chess Smith threw down Saving Lilibet on 4th July, but it’s certainly appropriate. This is a release that is all about fighting spirit, taking things back, and claiming a state of independence.

Her bio for this release is nothing if not direct:

Chess Smith has been a commanding presence on the Kent music scene for over a decade, both as a solo artist and a frontwoman, most recently as critically acclaimed power vocalist for Salvation Jayne… until 2020, when an abuser tried to take her power, dull her shine, and break her spirit. But they didn’t succeed.

Despite enduring a devastating nervous breakdown at the time, Chess has come back fighting in spectacular style with Saving Lilibet, her most personal, and relatable, work to date. She has made it her mission to provide a voice for those who have experienced abuse and toxicity, and to show the world that you can not only heal after these experiences – you can thrive.

As the saying goes, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, and simply telling her story, getting up and putting this out there, with no holds barred, demonstrates phenomenal strength. And for all that, Saving Lilibet is not remotely sad or self-pitying, but a set of songs which is uplifting, and very much focused on empowerment and positivity.

The intro, ‘Saving Lilibet’ is a weirdy, atmospheric little piece, on which Smith’s voice echoes from left and right, ‘save, save’. One gets the impression that this is the voice in her head, her internal monologue speaking to her, pulling her out of her torpor. And that’s exactly what she does, with some pristine pop tunes.

Lead single, ‘Bounce Back’ in many ways speaks for itself. When I covered it back in February, I noted how it was both ‘slick and soulful’, but I don’t think I fully appreciated just how strong the production was: it’s got the groove of Thriller-era Michael Jackson backing up a really crisp pop song, propelled by a thumping retro beat and showcasing a bold vocal performance, which, paired with her heartfelt lyrics hollers ‘taking no shit’.

Second single, ‘Drama King’ is up next, and once again, it’s tight, and light, but by no means flimsy in content or delivery’, and it so happens that the singles are entirely representative of the collection as a whole. The vibe is very much 80s pop played through a post-millennium filter – something which is nowhere more apparent than on the slower ‘Alexa’, while ‘Dissociate’ blends hints of Madonna with some Hi-NRG dance pop and moments of introspection.

‘All My Love’ is a big, anthemic slower song, and clocking in at almost six and a half minutes, it’s epic in every way. And once again, it’s realised with absolute precision and try dynamic is remarkable.

Saving Lilibet is a triumph on every level, and Chess Smith proves she’s not just a survivor, but an artist – and human being – who is determined to thrive. It’s inspiring stuff.

 

Chess Smith Artwork

28th July 2025

Christopher Nosnibor

Beauty, as they say, is in the eye of the beholder. Certainly, it requires a fairly specific subjective standpoint to hear the beauty in a bleeping rush of effervescent electronic froth, but there is something in it – and yes, it is intense – to the extend that it’s like a fizzing chemical reaction, like vinegar and bicarbonate of soda, exploding in your brain. And it’s quite a high.

Intense Beauty finds Gintas Kraptavičius (Gintas K) in his most common setting, with the album being fully improvised, ‘recorded live, using computer, midi keyboard & controller’. Recorded in June 2025 of this year, by the power of the Internet and micro-labels, it was released as a limited cassette on Tokyo-based label Static Disc just weeks later on 10th July, before also becoming available on Gintas’ own Bandcamp page.

As is common to many of Gintas K’s works recorded in this manner and with this – seemingly unique setup, there’s something playful, even joyful and uplifting about the sound. It is chaotic, but it’s also carefree, and it’s not remotely dark or heavy: there’s nothing harsh or abrasive to be heard here. ‘intense’ is skittery and skittish, off-key electric piano thumps and stomps erratically, glitching in and out throughout, while cellular sounds fly around all over like plankton in a storm before gradually slowing, tinkling and flitting at a more sedate pace until grinding to a halt.

‘harmony’ isn’t particularly harmonious, instead merging static and drone with groaning whirrs before yielding to discordant bent notes playing across one another. One thing that is a constant throughout Intense Beauty is a sense of movement. There isn’t a moment is stillness, as sounds and ideas flit from one place to another with no discernible flow, and th9is is nowhere more apparent than on the shifting sonic collage of ‘gal bet’. It’s hyperactive, and should be exhausting, but the sheer energy is contagious and uplifting.

Watching the accompanying video of Gintas recording for the album is illuminating, particularly the vigour with which he plays, simultaneously striking keys on the keyboard with hands, wrists, forearm, seemingly at random, but with remarkable speed and dexterity, while cranking knobs hard and fast: the camera and table shake under his frenetic kinetic activity. K isn’t one of those who creates sound simply by pushing buttons here and there: this is a full-body physical performance. This, too, is an example of intensity, and the artist pours it into the act of artistic creation.

There are a lot of experimental electronic artists around, but no-one else sounds quite like Gintas K.

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Christopher Nosnibor

Seeing the same band twice on the same tour – especially twice in the same week – may seem excessive to some. However, it’s not – and certainly wasn’t historically – unusual for fans to follow bands around the country, and even the continent. It’s something I’ve only done a couple or so times myself previously, at least that I can recall, and discounting the misfortune of having seen Sona Fariq around six times in three months supporting various bands in the early noughties. My first experience was seeing The Sisters of Mercy in Glasgow and Nottingham in the same week in 2000. The setlists may not have been radically different, if not identical, but the experiences could not have been more different. The Glasgow crowd was lively, and the band, visible through minimal smoke, were relaxed, and Andrew was chatty. A couple of nights later, in front of a static audience, the band were barely visible behind the wall of smoke and Eldritch didn’t speak a word all night. And so it was that I came to appreciate different locations, different crowds, etc., all have a bearing on the experience, and how two nights are never the same. I also decided to stand to the other side of the stage tonight, and being at the front that not only means a different view, but a different mix due to the proximity of the backline. We’ll come back to this shortly.

It’s perhaps less common to follow bands around now because the cost of tickets, accommodation and travel has skyrocketed way above the rate of inflation, and no-one hitch-hikes or sleeps on train stations anymore.

Anyway: some disclosure. Tonight is personal, I suppose. Having been offered press for the Leeds show before this one was announced, I jumped in, but on seeing a show a fifteen minutes’ walk from my house added to the itinerary, felt compelled to buy a ticket for the simple reason that I love the band, and – as they later remind us – their last visit to York was in 2011.

In the bar before doors, there’s a DJ spinning goth and post-punk tunes, and I get to hear ‘The Killing Moon’ over a PA for the second time in three days. And for the second time in three days, and the third time in as many months, I’m (pleasantly) surprised by the demographic: the first wave goth acts are no longer primarily the domain of those in their late forties or older. It could be that bands like support act Vision Video are proving to be something of a gateway – having discovered bands like The Violets and the whole early 80s scene pretty much the same way I did as a teen, they’re making music that’s influenced by those bands, with clear and accessible nods to The Cure and New Order, and finding an audience who are the age they were… etc. Anyway, it’s all to the good, and tonight’s audience is an enthusiastic one, and with youth on their side, they can dance and wave their arms without worrying about giving themselves a hernia.

The Crescent is a smaller venue than The Warehouse, and when Vision Video arrive on stage, aspects such as lighting and PA variations are thrown into sharp relief: it’s darker, smokier, the minimal lighting is predominantly purple, and the thumping bass I enthused over in Leeds was significantly less present or impressive. In between songs, they offer similar chat, but it’s clearly not scripted, but notably a lot less chat in general. Vocalist / guitarist Dusty Gannon talks faster, seems less more hyped up, rushing to remind us that the current tour is the ‘Death to Fascism’ tour. Given the state of things over here in the last week or so, they should probably be careful about things like that. But more seriously, anyone with a platform needs to be calling this out right now. Because it’s through silence – and allowing ourselves to be silenced – that fascism spreads.

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Vision Video

Notably, the whoops in support of the band’s anti-fascist messaging are louder tonight. It’s a smaller crowd, but they dance harder, encouraging Dusty to find the confidence to leave the stage and be among the crowd during last song of the set, ‘In My Side’.

I arrived home buzzing and without having written a single note during the whole of The March Violets’ set. The setlist was the same as Leeds, the intros were similar… but it was anything but a carbon copy show. On the one hand, the sound wasn’t as crisp, but this wasn’t by any means a detraction, in that it replicated that sonic haze of yesteryear, and even the early recordings. Not having Tom Ashton’s amp at face-height perhaps gave me a better sense of balance, and Mat Thorpe’s vocal were both louder and clearer, which was a strong plus.

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The March Violets

Notably, while the front of the Leeds show was frequently disturbed by a number of ambulant photographers – the usual types, tall blokes in T-shirts and knee-length cargo shorts hauling cameras with massive lenses – there was no evidence of any press or lens-luggers tonight (I exclude myself from this category because while I do now use a ‘decent’ camera, I stick to a small lens and keep to my spot, to one side, for numerous reasons, but not least of all to remain as inconspicuous as possible and not to interfere with anyone else’s view). As a consequence, the audience were free to move about down the front, and the band seemed more relaxed, presenting a different energy. They were still clearly enjoying themselves – if anything, more so. Rosie spent the entire set bouncing around like a pea on a drum, and her energy is infectious and joyous.

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The March Violets

Ordinarily, one would anticipate a more rapturous response at a hometown show: this has certainly been my experience with other Leeds acts through the years. But perhaps Leeds has been spoiled: it was only last year they played at The Old Woollen, while across the border, it’s been a lot longer – like more than a decade (Whitby appearances notwithstanding).

Tellingly, in Leeds, the claps and chants after the main set had been the somewhat irritating (and rather lacklustre) call for ‘one more song’ which has become a thing in recent years. Tonight, there is a relentless baying noise from a crowd who want as many songs as they can get (there were calls for ‘Bon Bon Babies’ and ‘Undertow’ during the set, and there was a fair bit of banterous to-and-fro with the audience). ‘Fodder’ was well-received, but the place positively erupted for ‘Snake Dance’. The band seem to respond to this, and really attack it, making for a blistering finale to an outstanding performance. If the rest of the tour is half as good, people are in for a treat.

Christopher Nosnibor

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

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

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Richard Carlson Band

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

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Mince

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

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Gans

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

5th December 2024

Christopher Nosnibor

Growing up in the 80s, when Wide Awake Club, and subsequently Wacaday was a huge thing, ‘Mallett’s Mallet’ engrained word association as a lifelong mental exercise. And of course, the rules “you mustn’t pause, hesitate, repeat a word, or say a word I don’t like… The one with the most bruises loses!” are indelibly etched in my mind.

Lemon Power reminded me of this, inadvertently, and certainly not by their own design, by triggering my brain to recall The Mighty Lemon Drops, Lemon Jelly, The Lemonheads, and Cat Power, for no reason other than spontaneous word association. I guess alternative music is packed out with lemons. The London-based duo, fronted by vocalist and guitarist Sere, with Ale on bass, bear precisely nil resemblance on any level, but I felt a compulsion to share my workings, so to speak.

‘I’m An Animal’ is pitched as ‘a stirring, introspective anthem exploring themes of escape and self-discovery, so the fact my mind escapes and ventured on a circuitous voyage of self-discovery before I even hit ‘play’ feel like reasonable preparation.

Although ostensibly the same song, ‘I’m An Animal’ is significantly different from ‘Animal’, which featured on their 2022 EP release A Ghastly Meaningless Aggregate. Over a minute shorter, it’s faster, more stripped back and at the same time, punkier, with more edge and more guts and drive.

It’s fascinating to observe just how a change of treatment can alter a song, and it’s evolved from a slow-burner with a nagging groove and ‘big’ chorus to a proper eye-opening slap. It shows that a good song is a good song however you spin it, but it does feel like they’ve really nailed it with this version, with its bold energy and sense of self-liberation. It’s time to let the animal inside loose.

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Christopher Nosnibor

My review of JUKU’s debut, at a Sunday matinee show last summer, continues to receive significant hits, and while they have played only a limited number of shows in the interim, it seems their reputation has been growing without their needing to take to the stage. It does mean that, personally, I’m keen to see them whenever the rare opportunity arises, and April seems like a long time ago.

They don’t disappoint: this is one tight, loud, band, and they pack the songs in back to back, no chat, no pissing about tuning up, no stalling to mop brows or regain breath. There isn’t a weak song in their half-hour set, but there are some standouts: ‘Pressure’ has the gritty drive of Motorhead and ‘No Fun’ is, actually, much fun. The set packs riffs and hooks like The Ramones on steroids… the lead guitarist is understated, focused, while on the other side of the stage, Dan is going ballistic, stomping and thrashing every ounce from his guitar like a man possessed. Sonically, they create contrast, too, with crisp, twangy tones cut through the huge, distorted roar blasting from Dan’s amp. They’re practically faultless, and the set ends in a ragged howl of feedback.

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JUKU

When the opening act is this strong, it’s a guaranteed good night either way: the rest of the acts are going to have to be bloody good to top them, in which case you’ve got a run of belters, or if they don’t match up, you can go home early knowing you’ve seen the best band of the night by getting down early. Tonight proves to be a bit of both.

New England trio Perennial – comprising guitar, synth, and drums, with dual vocals, are here on their first UK tour in support their third album, Art History, released over here by York-based label Safe Suburban Home Records. Sporting matching striped tops, they look vaguely nerdy, and unless you’ve heard or seen them before, nothing can quite prepare you for their wild stage act. Chelsea (keyboards, vocals) windmills and bounces all over, hyper as hell, and Chad Jewett, who’s a big fella, is a blur of movement, jumping and lurching and hurling himself and his guitar around, almost toppling his cabs just a couple of songs in. They positively crackle with energy, and are clearly absolutely loving every second of what is a remarkably well-conceived and structured set. They play US punk rock – or ‘modernist punk’ as they call it – with wit, and a keen sense of humour, delivering entertainment amped to the max. They clearly had a fair few fans in, and there was some exuberant dancing down the front. Definitely one of those bands that, if you get the chance, you should see.

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Perennial

Moose Knuckle showcase a solid sound, and some swagger, but the bar has been set incredibly high. They don’t have nearly as much energy as either of the two previous acts (although more every than Perennial would probably cause a power cut across the entire city), and they’re simply not quite loud enough or otherwise sonically powerful to get away with such a static performance. On another night, or had the bill been reversed, they’d have been decent enough, but they’re very much a meat and two veg rendition of punk, with most of the songs’ lyrics involving the repetition of a single line about forty times. And they’re not exactly inspired lines, either: ‘I need my dope, dope, dope, dope, dope,’ and ‘Dead! Beat! Daddy!’ is about the level of lyrical quality, the level of the lyrical quality, the level of the lyrical quality, the level of the lyrical quality.

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Moose Knuckle

Starting the set by calling everyone forward, only for them to all have to step back again to make way for the videographer prowling back and forth the full width of the stage a t least twice every song kinda backfired a bit, too.

Ultimately, there was nothing really ban about their set, it just lacked inspiration and energy in contrast to the previous acts.

The format of the night worked well, though: three bands, half an hour each, fifteen-minute interludes, 10:20 finish. Bish, bash, bosh. Perfect for midweek, and y’know, two outta three ain’t bad.