Posts Tagged ‘Indie’

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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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.

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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15th May 2026 – noot moon records

Christopher Nosnibor

The term ‘post mortem’ has come to bare a number of meanings, not least of all the connotations of autopsy, but ultimately, it boils down to being something after the fact, specifically, after death, as the phrase implies. I suppose what it is that happens after death does vary between individuals, but it doesn’t necessarily mean being carved up.

By way of context, Melanculia is the solo project of Nino Sable, front man of goth act Aeon Sable, and the release of post mortem marks the first new album under the Melanculia name since 2018’s Seventh Circle. The accompanying notes inform that ‘The album expands further into a melancholic palette shaped by Nino’s strong sense of post-punk melodicism, while also drawing on dark psychedelia and indie-folk textures.’ And there’s more: Sable says that ‘Freed from the constraints of collaboration and compromise, the album focuses on a more direct and personal approach, centred on acoustic guitar, haunting synths, and sharply focused lyrics that cut to the bone: fragile and unfiltered.’

If I were collaborator or bandmate, I might take this statement with a pang of annoyance, or feel it to be a slight sleight, but as I’m not, I can take it at face value, intending that for all the fun of collaboration, it’s empowering to cut loose and fly free every now and again.

And, indeed, with the freedom to explore any and all directions, that’s exactly what Sable does here: the fourteen songs on post mortem are varied, not only stylistically, but in terms of mood and emotional range.

post mortem’s first song is something of a sad song: ‘Dark Days’ blends acoustic guitar and sweeping retro synths to strong effect, and that effect is downbeat and melancholy. The first song sounds like an album closer, and starting on a downer with a slow fade is a bit of a risky way to start an album, but when that’s pretty much par for the course, what else are you going to do? This set of songs is very much set on the downbeat, the wistful, the melancholy, brimming with reflection and gloomy nostalgia. ‘The Tower’ steps up into another level of theatricality, and over the course if fourteen songs – which does make for a long album – post mortem dredges the depths of the soul.

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It’s hard to put your finger on exactly what it does or how it registers: post mortem finds Melanculia strolling quite confidently around the territories of alt-rock and post-punk, while also incorporating folk elements – repetitive chord sequences thrummed out on acoustic guitar may be simple, but utterly gripping, and never more so than on the haunting ‘Runaways’. The folksiness goes a bit pirate folk in places, but ‘The Healer’ drips emotion and brings mid-tempo theatrics propelled by a metronomic and insistent mechanised beat with a vintage snare sound that cuts through and hits hard. ‘Emptiness’ drips heavy emotive swooning, as Sable croons in a quivering Pete Murphy inspired intonation, ‘I wish you were dead now’. No doubt there’s someone in all of our lives that this sentiment applies to.

Standing in the centre of the album like a towering monolith, the seven minute epic that is ‘We Are Only Human’. Hearing the words, laced with a grace and ache, ‘I’m only human, so mall, insignificant’ against a backdrop of rolling piano played in waltz-time is unexpectedly impactful, and also reminds me of another song I simply can’t place. It doesn’t matter: what matters is that the way the atmosphere builds.

There are echoes of Chris Isaak’s ‘Wicked Game’ about the reverb-soaked sadness of ‘Confessions’, and ‘Sabiaoa’ scrapes the dark terrains of the whispering undulations that creep underground.

It’s perhaps fair to say that in terms of instrumentation and musical style, post mortem explores a narrow space in microcosmic detail. This is their two inches of ivory, if you will. Consequently, it’s an album which benefits spending time with, uncovering the details and the delicate differences. In capturing moods and atmospheres, post mortem is highly accomplished, filling every moment with a sense of poignancy, a swooning sadness.

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Dolium x LiVES collide on ‘Shame!’, a high-friction joint single that blurs the line between collaboration and confrontation. Rooted in indie rock and sharpened by punk urgency, it’s a track driven by tension, energy, and shared intent.

Since reforming in 2024 for the 20th Anniversary of their label, Sister 9 Recordings, lo-fi/post-punk/scuzz-rockers Dolium have been quietly building toward a new chapter. In their early days, the band caused quite a buzz on the UK underground music scene, catching the attention of BBC radio legend, John Peel.  That legacy is captured in their critically acclaimed limited-edition 4CD box set, The Products Of Our Own Demands And Commands. Now, in 2026, they return with renewed focus, and a new era of furious punk rock.

Born in Cornwall and sharpened in Kent, LiVES are a visceral collision of post-punk intensity and hard rock precision. Their debut album Let Them Eat Cake landed like a fist through a wall, fast, aggressive, and socio-politically charged. Louder Than War called it “a nihilistic expression of anger and disillusionment.” Their track Just Can’t Get Enough reached a wider audience through its placement on the Netflix series Lucifer. With airplay across BBC 6 Music, Radio X and BBC Introducing, a sold-out European tour, and support slots alongside Buzzcocks, SPAN and Danny Wildheart, LiVES have built a reputation as a band made for rooms that sweat. They return here in full force.

The creative spark was immediate.“I knew I wanted to work with someone that had as much anger and attitude as me. The moment I heard Rhys’s work, I was like, hell yeah… this is fire.” – Peter (LiVES) What started as a skeletal, verseless track quickly evolved into something more dynamic. Dolium took the initial framework into the studio and, as Rhys puts it, “added their venom,” with the song ultimately “bent beautifully into shape between us from across the miles.” Built remotely, with ideas passed back and forth, ‘Shame!’ became a true crossfire – LiVES driving the choruses while Dolium took command of the verses. The result is a track that feels both fractured and unified: two bands, one shared fury…

LiVES vs Dolium – UK duel headline shows

15 May 2026 – The Dead Famous, Newquay

16 May 2026 – The Water Rats, London 

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Shame