Posts Tagged ‘Live Review’

Jackie-O Motherfucker / Lo Egin / Sour Faced Lil – Wharf Chambers, Leeds, 23rd August 2025

Posted: 24 August 2025 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

It’s good to be back at Wharf Chambers. Personal circumstances have meant that the trip to Leeds has been largely beyond me, but stepping into the place felt like coming home. It’s unassuming, some may even basic, but it’s got a unique – and accommodating – vibe. There aren’t many small independent venues that can keep going by sticking to a programme of leftfield live music, or being explicit in a keen leaning towards inclusivity for LGBTQIA+ and anyone else who stands outside the fence of the normies, but Leeds is a big enough, and diverse enough, city for a place like this to not only survive, but thrive. It’s kinda quirky, a bit shabby chic, and it works: the beers – local – are cheap, the sound in the venue space is good, and it’s all cool, and tonight’s advertised lineup is a cracker. Diverse, but solid quality of an international reach.

Before we come to that, it’s a strange and rare occurrence to arrive at a venue to discover that there is an additional, unadvertised, band on the bill, and even more so when the band in question has effectively gatecrashed the event without prior arrangement with the promoter, but by dint of deception. But the first band on tonight have done just that. Perhaps it’s the only way they can get gigs. Because they sure do suck, and it was obvious that they’d never have been booked for this lineup in a million years. I head back to the bar after a couple of songs, having heard enough. When they’re done, promoter and sound man (in both senses), Theo takes the mic to explain that he hadn’t booked them and that they didn’t espouse the experimental ethos of the acts Heinous Whining exists to promote. The band did not respond well to this, validating the opinion a number of us had already formed, and they fucked off in a huff. Dicks.

Thankfully, normality – of the kind we’re here for – resumed with the arrival of Sour Faced Lil, the solo project of Hilary from Cowtown. Her set starts – somewhat incongruously – with a quirky electropop cover of Bright Eyes. I just about manage not to cry. Then she swerves into swooshing space rock noise galore, and she explores the weird and wibbly, and it’s everything you’d expect from a Heinous Whining night. Live drums, looped, live guitar, and warped, undulating synths create a cacophony of sound in layers. The performance is a little tentative in places, but the audience is behind her all the way. There’s something quite enthralling about seeing a solo artist juggling myriad musical elements and instruments, knowing what a balancing act, how much effort it is to remember everything and keep the flow, and the fact she manages it is impressive.

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Sour Face Lil

Also impressive are Lo Egin, but for quite different reasons. I feel I owe Lo Egin an apology, as it happens. When I reviewed their split release with Beige Palace a little while ago, I misspelled their name as Lo Elgin, more than once (although I managed to get it right when covering Volumancer in 2013) Hammering out reviews on a daily basis means I slip up sometimes. It’s not great, and I do try, to do better but… I did really rate that release, though, and I’ll admit that they were as much a draw for me as the headliners. And the fact is, they were worth the entry fee alone. On paper, they’re perhaps not the easiest sell, bring atmospheric post rock in the vein of early Her Name is Calla, with brass – sax and trombone – crossed with elements of doom – with the addition of screaming black metal vocals. They do epic. They do crescendos. They also do ultra-slow drumming, something I am invariably transfixed by having first become fixated during my first time seeing Earth live. The drummer raised his arms to fill extension above his head, before smashing down with explosive force.

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Lo Egin

Dolorous droning horns create a heavy atmosphere. Then, out of nowhere, from the delicately woven sonic tapestry they’ve been weaving, things turn Sunn O))) and the skinny baggy jeans wearing trombone guy who looks like a young Steve Albini delivers cavernous doomy vocals as he contorts and the mic stand and then all hell breaks loose. When they go heavy, they go heavy – and I mean HEAVY, the drummer smashing every beat so it hits like a nuclear bomb. To arrive with high hopes for a band, and to still be absolutely blown away is a truly wonderful experience, and one that stays with you.

I feel I should perhaps take this opportunity to apologise to Jackie-O Motherfucker, too: in my review of Bloom, I described them as a country band. And while there are without question country elements, they’re really not a country band. They’re not really a psychedelic band, either, or any other one thing. Instead, they’re a hypnotic hybrid, and they’re deceptively loud considering how mellow everything is. What they do is simple in many respects, but in terms of genre, it’s rather more complicated, not readily pigeonholed. I’d clocked them about the venue beforehand, and they seemed like really chilled folks, and while they’re not exactly chatty during their performance, it’s apparent that they’re humble, and simply really chuffed to be playing here. The room is pretty full, too. Tom Greenwood looks like he’s just taken some time out from doing some decorating to play. He’s got paint on his trousers, and is as unassuming as they come.

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Jackie-O Motherfuker

The current lineup consists of three guitars, synth, and some electronic stuff including subtle percussion. No bass, no drums. There are, however, many pedals and much pedal fiddling throughout the set, as they sculpt a wall of reverb and feedback and a whole lot more from this hefty – but ultimately portable – setup.

The resultant sound is detailed, but at the same time a hazy blur. Picked notes – and much of the sound is clean, with next to no distortion, but with all the reverb – bounce off one another here and there, creating ever greater cathedrals of sound. I find myself utterly transfixed. Their hour-and-a-bit long set features just seven songs, and they are completely immersive. There’s no real action to speak of, just an ever-growing shimmer which envelops your entire being. In some respects, their extended instrumental passages invite comparisons to the current incarnations of Swans, only without the evangelically charismatic stage presence or crescendos. In other words, they conjure atmosphere over some extended timeframes, but keep things simmering on a low burner, without any volcanic eruptions. The end result is a performance which is hypnotic, gripping because of, rather than in spite of the absence of drama. Low-key, but loud: absolute gold.

Light of Eternity / Soma Crew – The Fulford Arms, York, 23rd July 2025

Posted: 24 July 2025 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

The Fulford Arms has quite a record for booking bands which are of a significantly larger magnitude than its 125 capacity – Wayne Hussey, and The March Violets are a couple which immediately spring to mind from personal experience, while Utah Saints, Bob Vylan, and Ginger Wildheart are further examples, and there are countless others who played here before going massive. And now Light of Eternity join that list. Formed with legendary drummer Paul Ferguson, whose credits in addition to Killing Joke are a feature in their own right, they’ve released a brace of belting EPs and are now undertaking their first tour, taking in a number of larger venues as a headline act, an even larger venues as support for Ministry. And here we are: the first night of the tour is also their live debut, here in this grassroots venue with its small, low stage, and black walls marked in chalk with the names of the acts who have played previously.

Soma Crew have a knack for landing a fair few of the city’s high profile support slots, and deservedly. Supporting The Fall will likely be a career highlight, but something about tonight is special. The Crew’s ever-shifting lineup sees them packing out the stage as a sextet, and they open with the crawling ‘Dead Insect’. Is it the right choice for this occasion? Do they care? On the second song, ‘Counterfeit’, they hit the motorik groove that’s their strong suite, and from hereon in, they’re away. Broken string? Meh, it’s no issue when you’ve got three guitars (plus a bass), one with an E-bow plugging away at a single chord. With the addition of a throbbing bass, it all makes a magnificent hypnotic drone. This is Soma Crew at their best.

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Soma Crew

The DJ spun Ministry (‘Just One Fix’) and Murder Inc. between bands. Is it the done thing to play tracks by bands related to those about to take the stage? Why not, eh? I’d actually played not only the band’s two EPs but Locate, Subvert, Terminate, just the other day in advance of tonight, and it proved appropriate. There’s an interesting – and perhaps somewhat telling – selection of bands T-shirts on display here: no shortage of Killing Joke, but also The Sisters of Mercy, Paradise Lost, and The KLF… and the near-capacity crowd is suitably rewarded with a belter of a set, with twelve songs in all, which represents both EPs and another EP’s worth of as-yet unreleased material.

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Light of Eternity

Ferguson’s drum kit isn’t only the focal point: it occupies the majority of the little stage, with Fred Schreck (bass and vocals) and Pauly Williams (guitar) positioned either side. It’s perhaps as well they’re not given to ambulating a great deal. In Williams, they’ve found a guitarist with a sound that’s incredibly close to that of the late, great, Geordie Walker, and capable of churning out methodical riffs – and his dense, compression-heavy sheet metal thunder really rings out in a live setting, more so than recorded. He keeps his head down and just keep cracking ‘em out, and it works well alongside sturdy bass grooves, while it’s the busy, full-kit drumming that provides much of the action, the movement, within the songs.

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Light of Eternity

Their presence could be reasonably summarised as unassuming but focussed. They’re not a band for chat: Schreck does begin to speak on the subject of America, and hope, before ‘Dark Hope’, but it’s curtailed by the onset of the next percussive barrage which marks the start of the song. Ferguson not only leads proceedings, but does so in his own world, and that world is the centre of all of this. After the first few songs, he’s one hundred percent in the drum zone, and it’s apparent he doesn’t do breaks, preferring instead to keep that relentless momentum. Some may read it as standoffish, but it’s fairly apparent that it’s about the intensity, the songs slamming in back-to-back, the explosive beats, the churning riffs. Singer may not have Jaz Coleman’s charisma, but his reverb-drenched vocals are crisp and clear and delivered in such a way that the experience is that of an unyielding force.

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Light of Eternity

Checking the setlist encapsulates the mood and subject matter of Light of Eternity: ‘Conformity’, ‘Distraction’, ‘Tipping Point’, ‘Explode’. They may be older (Ferguson is 67 now), but they’re not settling into a comfortable relationship with the status quo, offering a cocktail of anger and disaffection at the state of the world. ‘Dark Hope’ is grungy, built around descending chords played with steely guitars. The unreleased ‘Fascist X’, landing near the end of the set is a full-throttle heavy grinder, while ‘Aftershock’ is an absolute juggernaut. They simply don’t let up: every song is driving, solid, muscular, a wall of leaden density.

There isn’t a weak song in the set, and their live debut more than delivers on the promise of the first studio releases. Most of those present reasonably expected quality, but for a live debut, this was phenomenal. The smaller venue was a test, in a way – and they passed it, and then some. The rest of the tour promises to be fantastic – but those who were here tonight witnessed something special that they won’t forget in a hurry.

Needlework / Divorce Finance / Speedreaders – The Crescent, York, 18th July 2025

Posted: 19 July 2025 in Live, Reviews
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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

The March Violets / Vision Video – The Crescent, York, 3rd July 2025

Posted: 4 July 2025 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

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

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

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

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

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

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Vision Video

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

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

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The March Violets

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

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The March Violets

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

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

The March Violets / Vision Video – The Warehouse, Leeds, 1st July 2025

Posted: 2 July 2025 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

In terms of goth history, The Warehouse is pretty much ground zero. Synonymous in particular with The Sisters of Mercy in their early days, it was this milieu which also spawned The March Violets, making their return to the venue for the first time since 1983. I missed that one myself, having been seven at the time, but a fair few of the songs played that night are in tonight’s set list, too, and one suspects they probably sounded better this time around.

Early doors, there’s an almost 50/50 split of old goths and twenty-somethings, who really do seem to have embraced the original 80s dark punk look (as opposed to the ersatz emo stylings that passed as goth in the 90s). The Psychedelic Furs and Christian Death and Strawberry Switchblade are blasting over the PA as we wait for Vision Video, and I make myself comfortable with a pint of Weston’s Vintage at a reasonable £5.80 for a pint.

Vision Video have a long-established relationship with the Violets, with Tom Ashton having produced their first two albums. Stylistically, they’re at the rocky, post-punk end of the goth spectrum, who clearly take their cues more from ‘our’ brand of goth rather than the US ‘death rock’ scene (a mid-set cover of The Comsat Angels’ ‘You Move Me’ is illustrative).

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Vision Video

A three-piece with guitar, synths and live drums, the sequenced bass is really solid and sounds… real, with proper low-end frequencies delivered at appropriate volume that make your nostrils vibrate. They’re over here from Athens, Georgia, with a message: they’re anti-fascist, anti-war, anti-capitalist, anti-Trump and anti-dickhead. And as guitarist / vocalist Dusty Gannon is a veteran and ex-firefighter, this is a message that’s delivered with sincerity from a place of experience, and a message which informs the songwriting as much as a vintage record collection. He speaks at length in between songs: none of is it preachy, but it is passionate, and the crowd warms to them (and judging by the clamour front centre, a fair few had warmed to them and learned the words in advance).

The March Violets take the stage as The Sisters’ ‘Marian’ comes on, and it’s a swift fade as they’re straight in with ‘Long Pig’, with a barrage of squalling guitars and stuttering beats. It’s immediately apparent that they’ve still got it, and pleasingly, they haven’t faffed about with the arrangements of the old songs, right down to the hyperactive drum machine programming which defined their early sound. ‘Crow Baby’, dispatched near the top of the set is still wild and sounds like nothing else.

Reminding us that they didn’t release their first album proper until after their post-millennium return, they give us ‘Made Glorious’, from their epic 2014 debut, followed by ‘Hammer the Last Nail’, lead single from recently-released follow-up Crocodile Promises.

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The March Violets

Playing ‘Grooving in Green’ and then ‘Steam’ replicates the running order of their 1982 single, and the interplay between the different elements comes through clearly: first, there’s that unique Leeds sound, with a thick, chunky bass welded to a thunderous drum machine, juxtaposed with a guitar style that draws at least a certain degree of influence from Gang of Four – scratchy, trebly, choppy, with some unconventional use of harmonics – and then there are the songs themselves, which are the product of distinct personalities. Bassist Mat Thorpe, who joined for the new album provides the more shouty male vocal counterpoint to Rosie Garland’s clean, theatrical enunciations, and as such, the essence (no, they don’t play that) of the old classics is retained. Meanwhile, ‘Kraken Awakes’ and ‘Crocodile Teeth’, lifted from the new album from new album sits comfortably alongside the older material.

The sound seems to get louder and brighter (and probably purpler) about halfway through the set, and they take things up a notch, Rosie confessing that they’re having a blast up there – although, truth be told, it’s pretty obvious: she’s in fine voice, and busting moves all over, and Tom spends half the set with a massive smile on his face. They know they’re sounding good, and they know we’re loving it, too.

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The March Violets

Towards the end of the set, ‘Strangehead’ is particularly wild and wonderful. They encore with a blistering ‘Fodder’, and there is simply no way they could leave without giving us ‘Snake Dance’, which is one of the definitive anthems of goth – the Violets’ ‘Temple of Love’, if you will.

Tonight, we’ve seen a band on peak form, and proving that they’re a lot more than simply a heritage act, too. Long may they continue.

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Shonen Knife / Speedreaders – The Crescent, York, 6th June 2025

Posted: 7 June 2025 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

Sure, having Kurt Cobain proclaim his fandom and bringing them on tour as a support act may have helped bring Shonen Knife to a wider audience, but in the Internet age, when it’s much easier to discover bands who aren’t shoved under your nose by pluggers and playlists, it seems probable that they’d have reached the current place on their journey on their own merits.

And so it is that the original all-female Japanese pop / punk power trio return to York after quite some time, bringing their ‘Have a Knife Day’ tour to a sold-out Crescent the night after stopping at the legendary Brudenell in Leeds. With the twenty-seven EU / UK tour taking in Hebden Bridge, Manchester, and Sunderland, it’s nice to see the North getting a decent share of shows, and the turnout and response tonight shows it’s appreciated.

The front bar is busy a good half an hour before the doors open, and local support Speedreaders seem genuinely surprised by the size of the crowd they’re playing to. They’re never the most conversational of acts, with the gaps between songs spent turning up and keeping their eyes to the floor, but their brand of slowcore indie – a significant contrast to the headliners’ uptempo style – is well-received, and deservedly so: they’re tight, and the arrangements are such that there is considerable air between the instruments, The sound is crisp and clear, and their concise set no doubt won some new converts.

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Speedreaders

Shonen Knife set up their own kit – drums, the lot, tuning, etc., all wearing their own current tour shirts. One bass pedal, perhaps half a dozen guitar pedals, small amps, there’s nothing fancy about their setup. That’s the essence of punk right there. A tech does come on and make some final checks before they return, T-shirts removed to reveal their co-ordinated colourful stage dresses, and they’re proceed to serve up a set which is pure joy from beginning to end.

For a band that’s been going for nearly forty-five years, their lineup has been consistent for long periods of time, and currently consists of co-founding sisters Naoko and Atsuko Yamano (guitar / vocals and bass / vocals respectively) and singing drummer Risa Kawano, who’s been with the band since 2015. This stability is likely one of the key factors in their tightness as a unit: the songs may not be especially complex, but their played really well – to the extent that it stands out. What also stands out is just how much they look to be enjoying themselves: they smile a lot, and Kawano in particular beams throughout the set, like she’s having the absolute time of her life on every swing of a stick. And that joy is infectious.

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Shonen Knife

For the uninitiated, Shonen Knife sound like a Japanese female Ramones experiencing a massive sugar rush. Their songs are perfect pop, and revel in the pleasures of ice cream, candy, and cookie dough. They’re the musical equivalent of kawaii drawing, and their stage show is in keeping with this. It’s not just the outfits, but the spangle guitars, the way the harmonies come together, the way the jumps aren’t jumps so much as bunny hops. Yet none of it feels trite or contrived, and it’s never cloying. It’s simply good, clean fun. A couple of times, I find myself thinking of Dogtanian and the Three Muskehounds – and it’s theme tune, that hyperpop energy the likes of which I had never heard before at the time.

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Shonen Knife

For an hour and a half, I find myself uplifted to a point that I am simply bursting with joy. While they play, everyone is in the moment, transported away from everything: the room is filled with happiness which celebrates simple joys. It’s pure escapism, and absolutely wonderful.

The Sisters of Mercy / Oversize – The Roundhouse, London, 25th May 2025

Posted: 26 May 2025 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

Yes, they’re still going. Despite not having released any new material since 1993, they’ve continued to tour frequently over the last thirty years, and have during that time showcased about two albums’ worth of new songs. And while performances of said new songs are all over YouTube, it’s no substitute for a live performance witnessed in person, which goes some way to explain why this, the first of two nights at the Roundhouse, is sold out. Another key reason of course is that people love this band with a rare devotion. I am here as one of those people, rather than in a press capability.

The support act, Oversize, deliver 90s-style alt-rock with grunge and shoegaze elements. I’d have probably dug them if it was 1992-3. Or perhaps not: there’s too much “How are you doing?” and “Let’s see those heads banging” calls between songs, in addition to the obligatory merch plugs. The longhaired bassist stomps about and flings his hair around, while the lead guitarist, who’s waring a Type O Negative T-shirt, does melodic backing vocals and also some metalcore screamy bits which don’t really gel within the overall sound. Still, they were well-received and did the job of warming the crowd up.

The Sisters’ set list on the current tour may not be radically different from those of the last couple of years, and as we will come to learn to no surprise whatsoever, identical to every night on this tour, but it’s certainly quite a different crowd they’ve drawn compared to the last few times I’ve seen them (either side of the pandemic, the last time being in this same venue in September 2021 on their three-night run belatedly marking their fortieth anniversary, and before that in Leeds in 2020). Dare I say it… younger. There are a lot of makeup goths out tonight, people born after the turn of the millennium dressing in the 2025 reimagining of 1985. Or something. No doubt many of the older fans – the ones who were there in 1985 who like to moan endlessly about how The Sisters have been shit since Wayne Hussey left will say that they missed out and are only seeing a karaoke tribute or similar now, but that they’re all here more than validates the case that The Sisters are still a going concern, and that there are plenty of more recent concerts who are keen to hear the unreleased material live alongside back-catalogue hits and classics. It’s certainly a livelier crowd than I’ve witnessed in these later years (although the less said about the tall woman dressed like a member of Bananarama who was swinging about and busting moves in the second row near me the better – I’ll simply leave it that there’s lively and there’s being an attention-seeking dickhead).

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‘Alice’ is dispatched early on in a set which largely ignores their pre-Floodland releases, with ‘Marian’ being the sole representation of First and Last and Always (in contrast, there’s a lot of Vision Thing). It’s almost as if Andrew is stubbornly ignoring the forty year anniversary of the band’s debut album to wind up the ‘golden age’ complainers, and you wouldn’t put it past him.

The band – and that extends to Chris Catalyst, former guitarist and now nurse to the Doktor – look to be enjoying themselves. Eldritch’s vocals sound rather more warmed up and he relaxes into the show more with the arrival of ‘Summer’, and the newer songs – in particular ‘I Will Call You’, ‘Here’ and ‘On the Beach’ – sound particularly strong. Yes, his voice is still a scratchy, crackling croak for the most part, but he’s much more audible and there some of the deeper notes come through. Eldritch seems to revel particularly keenly in giving it some on ‘More’: ‘I don’t know why you gotta be so undemanding’ he growls, before snarling a full-throated ‘I what MORE!’ and the bombastic backing vocals power in. Credit to Chris and Kai for their contributions on that score and the pair do work well together, bringing movement and energy to the stage, the former with classic rock poses, the latter twirling and pirouetting about with abandon, and Kai’s switching between electric, acoustic, and twelve-string guitars adds texture to the sound.

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On the subject of the sound, for many years, Sisters gigs have been on the quiet side, with the drums reduced to a clattering in the background rather than the relentless boom that was always integral to the band’s signature sound. Tonight, the volume and mix are both substantially stronger, with a denser sound overall, even the sequenced bass sounding more powerful and resonant. And this, this is what we came for: because when The Sisters are good, they’re GOOD.

Eldritch remains on stage after the band depart at the end of ‘Temple of Love’, performed in the 1992 style, with Kai doing the Ofra Haza parts. They do a decent job, too, although I find myself on the fence with it, not least of all because I wasn’t rabid about the later version in the first place. But, as with the more backing-track-based version of ‘This Corrosion’, a lot of people in my vicinity seemed to be absolutely over the moon to be hearing the hits in a recognisable form, and it’s quite possible that this is what the newer fans want to hear over, say, ‘Heartland’ or deep cuts from The Reptile House EP. You can’t please all of the people all of the time, but tonight, the Sisters seem to be pleasing enough of the crowd as well as themselves.

“I take requests,” he jokes, before muttering the punchline and leaving the stage.

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On returning, Ben takes up a bass guitar (something rarely seen onstage at a Sisters gig since the 90s, particularly since ‘Romeo Down’ was dropped from the set) and leads a hefty version of ‘Neverland’. It seems the song suits Eldritch’s current vocal range, and Andrew’s vocals sound the best yet, and remain strong for both ‘Lucretia’ and ‘This Corrosion’ which cap off a solid set. Overhearing exchanges on the way out, there seemed to be an overall positive consensus, and with this, I would have to concur.

Froglord / Kraken Waker / Chefs Kiss – The Fulford Arms, York, 21st May 2025

Posted: 22 May 2025 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

It’s encouraging to arrive twenty minutes before the first band are due on, and, despite it being a pleasant, sunny spring evening in the middle of the week, it’s already busy inside the venue, and not just at the bar. There’s a tangible buzz.

The arrival of the first act, Chefs Kiss, who describe themselves as a ‘comedic food themed slam metal band’, brings a fair few forward, and it’s clear that they’ve brought their mates with them. There was a time when I may have viewed this in a rather sneery way, but what matters, I realise these days, is that if they’ve got people in through the door, then it’s all to the good.

With a wardrobe which included kilts and masks and aprons and chef hats, Chefs Kiss weren’t all that comedic – or at least that funny – a comedy act, nor especially musically accomplished either. Does the world need a joke thrash act? Actually, it probably does, and fair play to them, in that they didn’t take themselves seriously, and largely adhered to their rather daft concept, and were good fun, bringing out a life-size cardboard cut-out of Ainsley Harriot which was passed around the venue above the heads of the audience like some sort of crowd surfing cardboard deity. What’s more, they looked we enjoying themselves, and every young band has to start somewhere. This is once again why we need venues like this.

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Chefs Kiss

Just as Chefs Kiss were a shade shambolic, so Kraken Waker were finely honed performers, clearly with not only hours of rehearsals behind them, but also a lot of gig experience. They seriously were incredibly tight. Their sound is very much classic US rock at the heavier end of the spectrum, with a strong, dirty, stoner leaning. I had afforded myself a chuckle while they checked their mic levels: the three beardy longhairs all came on with affectations as if they were from Texas. But piling into their set, they were instantly impressive, and it soon became apparent that they were unapologetic Geordies, with strong songs about being drunk, smoking weed, and wanting all the billionaires to fuck off to Mars. Quite possibly the band of the night.

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Kraken Waker

If you’re going to pursue a concept – particularly one that’s ridiculous – you really have to go all-in to pull it off. Oh, and Froglord do. The Bristol band’s five – yes, five – albums to date, including the most recent, Metamorphosis, released just a couple of weeks ago, are all preoccupied with expanding the lore of The Frog Lord, centred around the Book of the Amphibian, with swamp rituals and The Wizard Gonk and the like. Behind all this stupidity, there are some fierce riffs, and a fantastically solid doom metal band. I would have been perfectly happy if they turned up in jeans and T-shirts and blasted out the raging riffs. I might even have found it easier to connect with. But this is about performance, theatre. It’s also about doing something different. There is certainly no shortage of serious doom bands. There are considerably fewer doom bands who have devoted their entire careers to a concept as absurd as this.

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Froglord

The more preposterous the concept, the more committed you have to be, and Froglord prove that they’re one hundred per cent committed (or that they perhaps ought to be), with a stage set which has all the props, from a stage backdrop to a lectern on which stands a copy of some esoteric bible, via masks, cloaks, and a giant plastic frog. The set is structured around a swamp ceremony, and there’s no breaking character – apart from when plugging merch, which is done in character while acknowledging it’s a break in character, which offers some postmodern reflexivity, and in the way front man Benjamin ‘Froglord’ Oak will adopt the stance of a high priest before getting down and grooving to the monster riffs, cloak flapping, mask slipping. It’s funny because they clearly know it’s daft but play it with straight faces. That kind of dedication is impressive – as is their shit-your-pants bass sound.

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Froglord

And perhaps this is why it works. There’s a knowingness in the delivery of the performance, but they’re feigning that they don’t know we know it. Or something. And musically, they’re really strong. By the end, there are people traversing the venue, just grazing beneath the room’s low ceiling, in the same fashion as the cardboard Ainsley at the start of the night, and we filter out into the night to a chirping chorus of frogs. No two ways about it, Froglord put on a show.

IST IST / Oliver Marson – The Crescent, York, 3rd May 2025

Posted: 4 May 2025 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

Is it acceptable to wear the band’s T-shirt to their show? It’s a frequent topic of debate amongst my gig-going friends. As a rule, we tend to agree it’s not cool, although we all have our notable exceptions, and I got mine. But IST IST fans would largely disagree, it would seem – unless this is their exception band.

Usually, with the front bar right next to the auditorium, people sit at the tables supping until the bands start, sometimes until the headliners take to the stage. Not tonight. A large cluster of middle-agers in IST IST T-shirts are queueing and actually blocking access to the bar room half an hour before doors.  There’s a guy with an immense beard wearing a sleeveless black denim jacket with Sisters of Mercy and Fields of the Nephilim patches paired with red tartan trees and he’s standing in the queue too. The queue is practically out of the front door by 7:25, but the bar remains almost empty. These people are keen.

The support is an Ian McCulloch wannabe in a knee-length coat doing sub-mid-80s Psychedelic Furs lifts with a goth tinge. The drum machine is nicely up in the mix and the sound is great, even if the songs are only middling at best, and wince at worst. and it’s mostly backing track. But the Jarvis Cocker moves are overdone, suddenly throwing shapes in the most uncool fashion, sometimes going for a power pose or something a shade more aggressive and all the more incongruous, and the shades are off and back on and off and I again and the cringe only increases as the set progresses. It’s one of the longest half hours of music, and probably the most painful since the band supporting A Flock of Seagulls at The Brudenell a few years ago. It’s a rare talent to be this technically competent and so fucking embarrassingly awful at the same time.

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Oliver Marson

Having clocked a vintage Sisters T in the gents and emerging to find the front of the stage absolutely rammed, I was reminded just how hardcore – not to mention fucking stubborn – older gig-goers can be. It’s no wonder I learned spot-bagging and elbows when I started going to shows as a teen in the early 90s. And, as then, I’m probably a sound 10-15 years younger than the majority of these buggers. Those clustered in the front row in groups are discussing the set lists placed on the stage. Smoke drifts as Interpol’s ‘Roland’ blasts from the PA.

It’s not hard to comprehend why this band enjoys such devotion from this demographic: they present all of the quintessential post-punk elements, delivered with precision and panache. It is, it must be said, post-punk as viewed through the prism of the 21st Century revival. And there are many who are here for that, too, with plenty of under 30s grooving away behind the first five rows of old sods.

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IST IST

There has been no shortage of bands doing precisely this since around 2004, but Superlative drumming elevates their Editors /Interpol / White Lies – etc. – sound. The vocals are a flat, monotone and slightly twangy baritone with all the reverb, which take me a while to place, but they land somewhere between I Like Trains and She Wants Revenge. Credit to the sound guy, too, who’s working hard with the reverb and echo, especially on new song ‘Echo’, which has ‘instant classic’ written all over it and goes down a storm. They’re tight as and the sound is outstanding, with some super-solid bass at the pulsating heart of it all – and unlike Oliver Marson, leather jacketed bassist Andy Keating keeps his shades on – although I can’t help but wonder if they’re prescription and he’s doing a Wayne Hussey.

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IST IST

One of the tracks later in the set – my notes are sketchy as I was a bit engrossed – is pure She Wants Revenge, and it would be easy to shrug that IST IST offer nothing new, and it would be a valid criticism – but the counterpoint to that would be the consistency of the material and sheer quality of the performance, where some nice 12-string action adds some all-essential texture, and there are abundant I Like Trains-style post-rock crescendos along the way – and shshsh, don’t tell the younger fans, but it’s all as goth AF.

Suspicious Liquid / Velleity / Echoviolet – The Fulford Arms, York, 24th April 2025

Posted: 25 April 2025 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

And this is why it’s always worth turning out in time to see the support acts… Just last month, I was in this very same venue to see Feather Trade, a band who pretty much guarantee a quality show. There were three other acts on the bill, all of whom were well worth seeing, but the pick of the crop by some margin were Suspicious Liquid, who, it transpires, won the York Battle of the Bands last year. It wasn’t hard to see why. But has I stood outside chatting, or just rocked up for the headline act I knew, I’d never have seen them. And having seen them play as a support was what compelled me to come and see them headline tonight. And once again, the support acts proved to be good value – especially when you do the sums of three bands for seven quid.

As they took to the stage, I had some initial doubts about Echoviolet: image-wise they look a bit 90s indie, especially the singer / guitarist who’s sporting a bad indie haircut, and they sounded like a band who are still working things out. Sometimes the bass and guitar lines don’t really gel, with one running ascending chords and the other descending and not necessarily in perfect time either, but then suddenly from nowhere they’d land a cracking chorus. The vocals, too, aren’t quite there yet: they sound somewhat tentative, undersung, as if rehearsing quietly in a bedroom rather than going all-out. But, as a power trio, they’re unusual in that the guitar parts favour spindly picking rather than fully-struck chords. It’s certainly distinctive, and they’ve definitely got things going for them.

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Echoviolet

Broadly speaking, their sound could be reasonably described as alterative rock with a 90s flavour and some heavy moments that would have really hammered hard at higher volume. There are hints of Bleach era Nirvana, and a few dashes of dark psych, and at times they call to mind The Horrors.

The punky ‘Micromaniac’ is driven by some foot to the floor bass but dominated by an unexpected drum break near the end. Drummer definitely overplays, but he brings a vibrance, an energy to the stage, and while they’re a bit rough in places, there is clear potential here. Would see again.

Velleity are straight in with a groove, they’re as tight as fuck and the layers of synth add polish. Sure, they’re a bit muso, a bit groggy, there’s a bit too much sexface guitar wankery, but they radiate confidence and it’s forgivable because – and it’s a rare thing – they actually are as good as they think they are, and you could easily envision them going down a storm at festivals, bringing in a range of elements from Pink Floyd to Led Zepp and… Muse.

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Velleity

It’s certainly a remarkable debut even from seasoned musicians, and the quality of the performance and musicianship is impossible to deny. Mid-set they drop a tune that could easily be a Smashing Pumpkins outtake, before going Alice in Chains for the last song. They grew on me as the set progressed, and the bass tone was supreme. During last song, singer popped to the bar and returned with shots which he fed the band before a particularly indulgent instrumental break. I guess you could call that showmanship…

Suspicious Liquid are the reason most of us are here, and while it’s only a third full, it’s not bad for a Thursday night when students are still drifting back after Easter. And they give the show 100% from start to end. It takes some guts to open with a slow, sprawling epic… which is just what they do. Showcasing new material – a lot of new material, for that matter – and some seriously meaty hard rock riffs, they are on fire. The small audience pack forward and close to the stage, things look busy. It must be gratifying for a band to see faces up close instead of playing to a void with lights in their faces. All the elements come together perfectly, with no weak parts. Sound and performance, everything is just superb, and they play with intense focus. They boast powerful vocals with incredible range, especially at the upper end, and collectively they seem so comfortable on stage, too. Yes, this is how it’s done.

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They chuck in a King Gizzard cover mid-set, followed by more new material and some colossal riffery, debuting one nine-minute behemoth near the end of the set. Every second of the set is pure quality, and on the strength of the new songs, you get the sense that the best is yet to come.

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