Posts Tagged ‘Indie’

Ipecac Recordings – 18th September 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

Their bio tells us that ‘Cor de Lux didn’t come out of a content pipeline, a shared folder, or an algorithmic moment. They came out of a rehearsal room,’ and their Bandcamp page describes them as ‘4 friends in a Post Punk-Noise Rock band. Melodic hints and synth tones that trickle into a garage angst progressive fury.’ These two snippets give an insight into what kind of band they are, and how they operate, but don’t really give the measure of Year of the Horse, an album which goes beyond both post-punk and noise-rock or any permutational crossover of the two to render something that’s varied, embraces experimentalism, and at times is quite off the wall.

Single cut ‘The Cringe’ is exemplary, crashing in on a lolloping rhythm and blistering squall of guitar by way of a backing to a dispassionate but nevertheless urgent-sounding dual vocals from Tim Lusk and Dawn Moraga, before suddenly pulling up and following a short but meandering moment of ponderous desert rock, swerves off in a vaguely trippy prog direction, with a swirling synth and strolling synth. In contrast, ‘Ping Pong’ – not a cover of the Stereolab classic – is a slice – and at six minutes long, a very generous one – of quintessential dream-pop. A laid-back, balmy indie song with a hint of C86 whimsy, gently melodic and evocative of dappled sunlight in woodlands in early summer, it’s neither post-punk nor noise-rock, but it’s easy on the ear – until the switch that lands around the four-minute mark when it unexpectedly takes off like a rocket. And it’s here that it becomes apparent why Ipecac would be interested in them. They’re a band unconstrained by genre boundaries: not necessarily weird, but different.

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‘Cannibal’ takes the chiming guitar and driving bass of the UK goth sound circa 1984 and spin them with slightly spiky vocals and a mid-80s indie twist – nothing that’s immediately specific to a band, but then not entirely generic either.

‘The Western’ whips up a choppy frenzy and is perhaps one of the most overtly post-punk-meets-noise-rock songs on the album, and it drives pretty hard, before ‘Bread Bag’ serves up a slice of mathy post-rock… but that’s not quite it. But I can’t think long enough to capture my thread because there’s a sudden explosion over overdrive, and then it’s off somewhere else again. As the album progresses, the harder it becomes to situate it in a way that feels in any way meaningful – but that doesn’t mean that Year of the Horse is in any way incoherent. The more wide-ranging and eclectic the songs are, the more the sound of Cor de Lux is defined.

‘The Deli’ is simultaneously motorik and noodly: Pavement might be an obvious touchstone, but it’s more obscure acts like Moderate Rebels that come to mind, and Rosa Mota, too, and as fast as can process and much faster than I can type, we’re into another post-rock noise burst and then some more breezy, jaunty indie rock. One thing that does stand out is just how un-American they sound, at least to my ear. Year of the Horse is quirky. It’s not a common American trait. It’s nuanced, and wile it’s by no means a flippant, inconsequential work – it’s anything but – it’s threaded with a kind of knowingness, a twinkle in the eye which hints at a certain humour. But more than anything, Year of the Horse is a work of genius, in that it brings together myriad incongruous elements and doesn’t just make them gel, but amalgamates them in a way which feels entirely natural. How do they do it? Magic, alchemy, or something, I guess.

So many acts strive to make hybridity work, and so many fail, because it feels forced, self-conscious, the segments don’t flow or connect up, and it sounds awkward, jarring. Not so with Cor de Lux, and Year of the Horse keeps it succinct with just nine songs and a run time of thirty-eight minutes, the majority of the songs sitting in the three-and-a-bit-minute bracket. It’s a rare beast, this: an album that will blow your mind, but subtly. It’s crazy, but it’s packed with tunes. Truly inspired.

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Photo: Olivia Howe

NYC art-rockers Ecce Shnak is bombastically stoked to present ‘Anna O’, the third single from their much-anticipated full-length record Dandy Variances, slated for release on October 23rd via Records, Man Records. With its ferocious blend of art-rock swagger, grunge grit, and theatrical ambition, ‘Anna O’ offers a raucous first taste of the sonic unruliness in store on the album.

Recorded and produced by Jeff Lucci, this single was mixed by Grammy award-winning producer Mario McNulty (David Bowie, Prince, Nine Inch Nails, Julian Lennon) and mastered by multi-platinum engineer Kris Crummett.

Formed in 2011 and forged in NYC’s experimental scene, Ecce Shnak (pronounced Eh-kay sh-knock) is made up of David Roush (composer, bassist and baritone vocalist), Bella Komodromos (vocals), Chris Krasnow (guitar), Gannon Ferrell (guitar), and Henry Buchanan-Vaughn (drums).

‘Anna O’ is a jump-off-the-couch, roaring-the-hook anthem with big grunge energy. For the first time, Ecce Shnak’s composer-baritone-bassist defers his lyric-writing duties to someone else. His mother, Robin Kneubuhl, wrote a poem months before he and his producer, Jeff Lucci, cooked up a noisy instrumental in March 2019. Roush and Lucci tried the poem out as a lyric, and it fit just right.

Kneubuhl has described her poem as “a lament about tragic contradictions in contemporary feminist thought and practice”. While Kneubuhl wholeheartedly believes in feminism’s ideals, she is concerned that it is misused toward nefarious ends, to the detriment of women and others alike.

“The song’s tragic hero embodies both a noteworthy psychoanalytic patient of Freud’s protégé Josef Breuer and the real-life gun-slinging heroine Annie Oakley. Though Anna is beleaguered by the contradictions Kneubuhl observes in the poem’s story, she ultimately emerges triumphant in the fight against patriarchy by the song’s end,” explains David Roush. “Though we are in the process of firming up the specifics, we can’t wait to play this for the Shnakiverse and music lovers generally on tour this fall!”

The music video is a third collaboration between Ecce Shnak and LA-based film producer DJay Brawner, who also directed the videos for the album’s first two singles, ‘Vincent’ and ‘Eddie, Legalistic Homeslice’. Ecce Shnak’s soprano, Bella Komodromos, plays the role of Anna, who is deeply distressed in captivity, as she seems wrongfully entrapped in an asylum. However, through an act of heroic resistance, she overthrows her abusive doctor and his servile aide. She sets herself free while the mighty rock band Ecce Shnak plays her homage as loudly and wildly as they can.

While Ecce Shnak’s songs draw on a wide array of styles, fans of Nirvana, the Pixies, and the Jesus Lizard will likely latch onto ‘Anna O’ quite tenaciously. With a reputation for astounding performances, Ecce Shnak’s music a volatile yet meticulously crafted ecosystem, where technical precision meets inspired mayhem.

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Blaggers Records – 13th August 2026

Christopher Nosnibnor

When I was in my teens and early twenties, I got quite hung up on an existential anguish that no two people perceived things in exactly the same way. It wasn’t completely unfounded: there’s empirical evidence that shows that there is no such thing as a reliable witness. Particularly in moments of heightened stress or panic, the brain will scramble to process what it sees, while at the same time juggling the options of fight or flight. As such, it will assemble a narrative from fragmentary snippets, and attempt to fill in the gaps. But even more fundamentally, no two people will perceive something as fundamental colour in the same way. I have a mug which I consider to be grey; the rest of my family tell me it’s blue. And while I concede it’s perhaps a gunmetal shade, I still consider it to be grey. And so it is that two parties engaged in conversation will simultaneously experience completely different conversations.

This is the premise of the third single from London-based, New Zealand-formed five-piece Not My Wife, which explores ‘the duality of relationships, and how two people can be living within the same reality, while experiencing it quite differently. The verses detail one person sitting in the bliss of new love, while the choruses expose the narrator’s realisation that their partner may not have been feeling the same way. The song explores the theme of memory, interpretation and how we can put another person at the centre of our world without wanting to see them clearly’.

Driven by a crunchy bassline, ‘Best Friend’ nags away nicely, managing to be both breezy and somehow claustrophobic, and to meld postpunk with a wistful indie sensibility. The guitar is stop / start, choppy, and there’s a subtly melancholic hue in Olivia Mercer’s vocals. There’s something about this single that’s quite touching, in ways that aren’t readily articulable, much in the same way a vague memory will linger on the edge of your recollection, and while you experience it as a sensation, somewhere in the gut, you simply can’t place it, chronologically, locationally, or any other way. It offers a sense of dappled shade and wistfulness, and also of a certain self-disconnect, wrapped in a hazy melody which reflects the fact that in ten years, this will all seem as a dream, or another life.

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Label Obscura (Canada) / Warped Tracks (Scotland) – 5th August 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

A couple of months ago (I’m putting it down to the successive heatwaves that the time seems to have simply evaporated this year), Dragged Up stopped off in York (on their way to Newcastle from Middlesbrough) to squeeze in a special set opening day two of a mini-festival. During their performance, we got a preview of what was then touted as being a future single in the form of ‘Rapunzel’.

And now, the world gets to hear the studio version, in all its five-minute glory, complete with some bold sax. While the accompanying video (a two-minute cut), courtesy of the band’s own Eva Gnatiuk (guitar and vocals) features a succession of folks dropping classic and influential albums and books like they’re nothing (I was particularly pained to see a copy of the Red Star issue of Suicide’s first album getting tossed, even though the cover looked a bit battered, rather less fussed about a Faces album getting the treatment, and wait! That’s Stuart Lee emerging from behind an Earl Scruggs LP!)

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Where was I? Oh yes. The music. ‘Rapunzel’ is a garage, punky romp of a tune, and the sax lends it a very (early) Psychedelic Furs / X-Ray Spex vibe (Germ-Free Adolescents also appears in the video). It may reference hair washing, but it’s bursting with lyrical tangents, and couldn’t be much further from the songs from Disney’s Tangled (a movie I’ve seen far too many time, on account of having celebration a daughter who was exactly the right age for Frozen and stuff when it was all the rage). But this ‘Rapunzel’ keeps on springing surprises: the ‘Dark Entries’ section that featured live remains intact around the three minute mark, and if the video seems to say ‘meh’ to influence, the music itself says otherwise, feeling like a n effervescent celebration of those predecessors, rather than a trashing. Regardless, the result is an uptempo, exuberant, scuzzy blast that’s bursting with energy and attitude. And it’s great.

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NYC art-rockers Ecce Shnak present ‘Eddie, Legalistic Homeslice’, the second single from their full-length album Dandy Variances, anticipated later this year via Records, Man Records. Recorded and produced by Jeff Lucci, this single was mixed by Grammy award-winning producer Mario McNulty (David Bowie, Prince, Nine Inch Nails, Julian Lennon).

Formed in the mid-1990s and forged in NYC’s experimental scene, Ecce Shnak (pronounced Eh-kay sh-knock) is made up of David Roush (composer, bassist and baritone vocalist), Bella Komodromos (vocals), Chris Krasnow (guitar), Gannon Ferrell (guitar), and Henry Buchanan-Vaughn (drums).

An ode to camaraderie, ‘Eddie’ reaches its lyrical denouement with what may be the “oldest prayer of friendship", but sounds like a throwaway Rivers Cuomo line: “I pray you don’t be a rat in a rat-suit! Pray you don’t be a rat in a rat-costume!”

“Like ‘Larry, Sleepover Friend’ from our 2019 Joke Oso EP, our new song is a garage-rock homage to a beloved friend of mine. Like ‘Larry’, ‘Eddie’ explores big themes in great friendships: their gnarly ambivalences, their absurd misunderstandings, their inside-jokes, and their contradictory mix of irreverence with utmost care,” says David Roush.

“We are also overjoyed to feature two great friends as the co-stars of the music video, the preposterously funny and talented comedic duo Syd and Olivia! I was lucky to have met these two pugnaciously podcasting, thoughtfully Thespian, joke-slinging YouTube yokels on a fantastic journey to the Greek island of Crete two years ago, and the rest was thirst’ory.”

Bella Komodromos adds, “They absolutely kicked butt at their roles in this Wes-Anderson-hued buddy-comedy music video, directed and produced by DJay Brawner. It is our ardent hope that all fans of Ecce Shnak and Syd and Olivia alike can shart out with their hearts out to this badass collaboration!”

Apart from directing and editing the new video with Brooks Jones, Beth Narducci and David Roush, Brawner also worked on the video for the album’s lead track ‘Vincent’, an homage to superb music videos of yesteryear – for Meshuggah’s ‘Bleed’ and 311’s ‘Down’. Here, operatic trills collide with frantic rock energy in a high-decibel takedown of a formulaic antagonist through the power of one’s own voice.

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Christopher Nosnibor

It’s been a while since I went to ‘bands in the bar’ kind of thing. Although the Horsemusic nights are essentially bands in a bar, it’s a large space and they play on a raised area at the far end of a rectangular room, meaning there’s a sense of separation (in addition to the handrail which runs across it). For many years, there would be acoustic soloists and duos – nearly always playing variations on the blues – in the corner of every other bar, and it was kinda fun for a while, but got a bit samey rather fast. Still, the point is that there’s something less formal about the ‘bands in a bar’ setting. The Golden Ball, consistently in the Good Beer Guide, is a community owned and run pub with multiple rooms (some more like nooks or snugs), where they host quizzes, spoken word and open mic nights and the like, plus decent size beer garden.

It might be Soma Crew lite tonight, paired down to minimal gear, with no cymbals and fewer pedals, but it’s still a lot of pedals, and by the time you’ve got a PA, amps and pedals for two guitarists and a bass, plus drum kit and another amp and mountain of electronic equipment for How Buildings Fail, plus a massive – and truly essential – thermostatically-controlled fan, seating, and space in general is very much at a premium. More than twenty people and it’s pretty cosy, to put it mildly.

David Mudie playing a solo Speedreaders set is the closest to truly stripped-back as it gets, with just him and a clean-sounding guitar and a couple of pedals. Played this way, it accentuates the sad, emotional nuisance of the downtempo slowcore songs, and he seems unusually relaxed and even borderline chatty by his standards.

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Speedreaders

It sets the tone for the night: the intimacy of the space is a great unifier, and the warmth of the atmosphere isn’t just heatwave and humidity.

Simon – aka How Buildings Fail – seems genuinely quite overwhelmed by the positive response to his performance, each song received with enthusiastic applause. He soaked the small room with low end feedback as he drawled monologues reminiscent of The Fall – the first track in particular seems to lean on ‘Smile’, and the more uptempo (house) pieces rattle along, propelled by a primitive drum machine. Electronica with live guitar, it’s gloriously ramshackle and old-school in every way, from the scratchy guitar to the, we, scratchy electronics. And people are amazed. This is telling: he runs the York EMOM (Electronic Music Open Mic) night – it’s part of a now (inter)national network of events which gives a safe space for all the nerds and oddballs to perform (I say this in the most positive sense as a regular myself), and the York one in particular seems to cultivate a culture of experimentalism, left-field, ambient, noisy, and downright weird shit, and it’s brilliant. But it is a bubble, and maybe not all of the EMOM participants have the same potential beyond the bubble. But How Buildings Fail balances quirky post-punk with just enough catchiness to appeal to a broader audience, and to see how he’s received out in the wild is a joy for me, and clearly, a revelation for those unfamiliar, which is a fair few of those in tonight.

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How Buildings Fail

Soma Crew might well be the band I’ve seen and covered the most since I started out with Aural Aggravation a decade ago, and I’d seen them a fair few times before that, too. They are, definitively, mainstays of the scene, and have landed some high-profile support slots for visiting bands (notably The Fall at Fibbers in 2016) can be depended on for three things: 1) a different lineup nearly every time 2) drummer Nick wearing his Sin City Rockers T-shirt 3) they’ll always play counterintuitively and start with the most hesitant-sounding, ploddiest song on the setlist. It’s like a test, but also a warm-up as they feel their way towards the groove. It’s only after the drawling crawl that they strike their motorik stride, and once they do, they’re mining gold all the way to the finish. Chugging rhythm guitar, strolling bass, soaring lead and thudding minimal drums all settle in nicely. And then from nowhere, the sound erupts a few songs in. It’s not devastatingly loud, but in this confined space, the sound feels huge. On ‘Westworld’ they hold a single note – not even a chord – for about five minutes. Then the drums kick in and they hold it another eternity. It’s glorious. The band are looking relaxed and right in there, and I find myself completely immersed for a spell.

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Soma Crew

And the thing is, it’s simply nice. It’s also more than that. There is a palpable sense of community here tonight, people stick around and chat afterwards, taking their time over pints purchased at last orders instead of the usual emptying minutes after the music finishes. Soma Crew probably rehearse in a bigger room than this, but it’s not about the numbers, it’s about the music, the vibe, the connection. None of the performers is new or up-and-coming, and won’t be offended by this observation. But there’s a further point here: so many of the up-and-comers find that life – work, mortgages, families – put paid to creative activity post-thirty. That all of tonight’s acts have remained artistically active is testament to a certain commitment to creativity. It may simply be stubbornness, but for that  stubbornness kudos is due, not only for keeping on, but keeping on doing good stuff. Better than good, in fact. Grassroots music events don’t come much more essential than this.

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

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…

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That Hidden Promise Promo1

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.

26th May 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

It’s an interesting choice of name for a band, is Fishwife. Of course, the literal meaning is the wife of a fisherman, and in the dim and distant past (before my time), when industry was cottage rather than factory-based, and before the advent of supermarkets, the wives would sell the fish caught by their husbands. But we also have the phrase ‘to swear like a fishwife’, because said women were notoriously loud and sweary. Although this is also true of women from Glasgow and parts of the north of England in the present. As a final observation, it’s perhaps worth noting that, according to an article in the Review of English Studies, ‘managing alone while their menfolk were away fishing for extended periods made them strong and self-sufficient’. And while biographical details of this female London duo are scant, it seems likely relevant. That and the fact that Lenny Moynihan and Jos Cubie met in an oyster shack in a storm. As happens.

‘All Good Wives’ is their debut single – released completely non-coincidentally on World Dracula Day (May 26, 1897 being the date Bram Stoker’s seminal novel was published). They describe it quite simply as ‘a gothic indie rock song about falling in love with a vampire’, adding ‘We recorded the vocals in an empty ghost train ride and the organ in a gothic church.’

It’s all there, then, in just a few lines – a chance meeting, literary allusions by way of context. You can imagine them trotting this tale out to all the music sites in interviews, even telling to Tim Lovejoy on Sunday Brunch (since he asks every band, even siblings how they met, week in, week out). A song that combines romance and vampires… this is surely a recipe for success. Are we really convinced by this tale? Or is it there something fishy beneath the surface? Are we looking at the latest instalment of The Last Dinner Party, Wet Leg, Geese? There’s certainly quite a roll-call on the credits for the video. Let’s just say that I couldn’t afford this level of production if I wanted to put out a promo vid, even if I called in all the favours from all the people I know. In the age of AI and industry plants and nepo-buy ins and all the rest, it’s hard to know what’s real, what you can trust. I write this as someone who’s been writing reviews since 1994. I grew up reading the NME and Melody Maker, when the critique was as times beyond brutal. Now, music journalism seems to have become part of the PR machine, and writers are terrified of proffering any kind of criticism for fear of a virtual pile-on or their supply of freebies being cut off. Whatever happened to journalistic integrity?

It so happens that ‘All Good Wives’ is a solid tune. It isn’t an instant grab, but one of those songs that slowly worms its way into your psyche. Note that it’s described as ‘gothic’ rather than ‘goth’, and it’s all about the atmosphere – the spacious instrumentation, the breathy vocals, the tension and the dynamics. As a debut single, it’s magnificently understated – no huge anthemic chorus, no slogan, no instant hook, it’s built around a sparse, trudging riff, motorik percussion and layered vocals. It’s not only a great song, which blooms in a widescreen cinematic finale, but an introduction that has allure and is a lure, one which makes you lean in awaiting the next instalment.

Let’s see what happens next…

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