Christopher Nosnibor
There was a time when there wasn’t really much doing in York, which was particularly disappointing for a city with two universities. But, despite grass roots venue disappearing at an alarming rate, right now, the city is offering up some exciting stuff on the grassroots scene. Tonight, there are three quality live music events on, and had I mastered cloning, I would have gone to all three. The Fulford Arms was serving up a night of top-notch goth and post-punk, while there was experimental and ambient work on offer at The Basement under the City Screen cinema. But I feel I made the right choice plumping for Needlework at The Crescent, not least of all because it transpired that this was to be their last show.
Needlework have only been around a couple of years, and only played a handful of shows, but they’ve made a serious impression, as tonight’s crowd shows. Sure, they’ve got plenty of their sixth-form / college mates down, but this is a band who had built a keen following in their own right. In a previous time, John Peel would have been all over them and they’d have achieved national cult status. Instead, because it’s 2025, they’re bowing out with only an EP (released today, but without mention) and a few shows to mark their existence. But I guess this is how it goes.
First up, it’s Speedreaders. They’re nothing if not consistent., and tonight’s set brings all of the things I’ve highlighted in my previous coverage. They’re tight, but slow and mellow. And this evening they’re slower than ever. After imparting his opinion on Fleetwood Mac being shite in a rare bit of between-song banter, singer David Mudie spent longer tuning his guitar for the next song than it actually took to play it. That’ll teach him to engage in conversation with the audience. My mate went to the bar and returned with two pints before he was done tuning. Still, when they’re back on track, they’re sounding good. It’s the harmonies which stand out in tonight’s clean, crisp set, with clear balanced sound.
Speedreaders
Divorce Finance sound pretty much the same as they look…. meaning I can’t remember the last time I so wanted to punch a whole band. Actually, I lie: Sleuth Gang, who I witnessed in the same venue a few months ago emanated wankerdom from every pore. It must be something about bands who take their style cues from The Village People.
Divorce Finance
It’s sort of tongue-in-cheek but not really rockabilly country hoedown hillbilly bollocks. There are people down the front getting down with some boisterous line-dancing moves, and there are plenty who are digging it, but I just can’t get on board with this is corny, gimmicky shit, and the fact they play it well doesn’t get them a pass. All the whooping and whelping is high-energy and perfectly executed, but… It’s just so much cheesy turd-polishing, and the singer’s smug, grinning, cheeky chappie, eye rolling delivery only makes everything so much worse. I found myself feeling not irritated, or annoyed, but – most unexpectedly – angry.
Needlework are simply something else, and what that something is is not easy to pin down. Their entire existence is constructed around a mass of contradictions and paradoxical premises, none of which are reconcilable or make any obvious sense – but this is precisely why they work, and why they exist in a league of their own. They’re really tight and together, but create the illusion of being lose, even a shade shambolic; front man Reuben Pugh is simultaneously intense and aloof. Each member of the band brings something different, stylistically, and in terms of personality – that goes for both their musical contributions and stage presence. Jagged, scratchy guitar work slices across rolling basslines, jittery drumming finds a counterpoint with soft, trilling woodwind and synths interwoven through the scenes as they unravel.
Needlwork
They’re not really a ‘songs’ band in terms of conventional verse / chorus structures, either, instead exploring routes which take obtuse twists and turns, and they’re unafraid to do slow, wonky, spoken wordy, abstract narrative. They understand dynamics, and the power of jarring angularity. It’s post-punk, it’s jazz, it’s experimental, and it’s utterly spellbinding. Needlework are one of those rare bands that seem to suck you into a parallel universe while they play. Time hangs in suspension and you find yourself on another plane, utterly gripped while wondering what they’ll do next. During the time they’re on stage, something transformative takes place: it’s more than simply five people on stage making music. Needlework conjure aural pure alchemy.
Pugh takes his shirt off to substantial applause, and a big fella in the front row responds by whipping his T-shirt off and lobbing it on stage after helicoptering it above his head a few times. He asks for it back a song or two later, and the band duly oblige.
Needlework
The set builds to a perfect climax, a monumental whirl of sonic chaos which is electric. And then, that’s it. Finished. Done. They leave us stunned, dazed by the magic we’ve witnessed. They certainly concluded on a high, and one suspects that this is a band which will be remembered, and talked about, for years to come.
Aural Aggravation 