Posts Tagged ‘Live Review’

Dead Space Chamber Music / The Silver Reserve / Hanging Freud / Futures We Lost – The Cemetery Chapel, York, 19 April 2025

Posted: 20 April 2025 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

As a venue for a live music event, The Cemetery Chapel in York is an inspired one. It’s not only a remarkable building and a perfect space for music – its high ceiling and being a perfect rectangle mean the acoustics are superb – but it is a functioning chapel in the middle of a massive graveyard. Again hosted by The Velvet Sheep, it’s a very different affair from the ‘Gothic Moth’ event held in this same space last September, but still feels entirely fitting to be here.

I arrive a few minutes before doors, and spend the time indulging in one of my favourite graveyard games, of ‘find the oldest headstone’ but soon find myself distracted by the ages of many of those who died in the mid-1800s: there were many children, some only months old, and many adults between the age of thirty-five and fifty, which made the ones who made it into their eighties and nineties something of a surprise. And this would not be the only surprise of the night after purchasing a glass of Shiraz and finding a seat close to the front.

Futures We Lost presented a pleasant surprise by way of a start to the evening. The solo project of Doug Gordon, the set offers up expansive, haunting synths, occasionally brooding and dark, propelled by reverby, hypnotic programmed drums. For large passages, it’s beat-free, and dense, sonorous drones, distorted, ominous samples, discordant chimes, and occasional blasts of abrasive noise echo around the high-ceilinged chapel. Cracking hums and fizzing static swell into thick layers which hang like mist in the candlelit space.

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Futures We Lost

Following immediately, Hanging Freud – a band I’ve raved about in the recorded format for quite some time now – bring the temperature down a few degrees: icy synths, thick with gearing textures grind against dolorous drums. Paula sings with her eyes cast upwards to the ceiling, or the heavens, her vocal between Siouxsie and an almost choral croon, rich and often reminiscent of Zola Jesus. Musically, they offer strong hints of Movement era New Order. The songs are concise and compelling and pack in a palpable density of atmosphere into their brief spaces. It’s growing dark outside now, and against the candlelight the duo are barely visible apart from Paula’s platinum hair and pale forearms, but the mood is even darker inside as the songs bring an ever-increasing emotional weight. The songs are all driven by bold beats, with crisp and heavy snares cutting through the thick swathes of synth. They don’t talk, they just play, never breaking the wall or the spell, ending with a simple ‘Thank you’ before slipping away and cueing the arrival of the interlude.

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Hanging Freud

Raising the curtain on Act II, The Silver Reserve – another solo project – bring a significant stylistic shift with a set of introspective post-rock / slowcore, with soft-focus solo acoustic guitar and vocals with additional loops and lots of reverb. A couple of the songs felt a bit disjointed, and sat at odds with the gentle flow of the emotive, reflective ballads, which draw heavily and with sincerity and honesty, on personal experience. The perhaps less-than-obvious comparison which came to mind as I was listening was later Her Name is Calla, although their work was in turn drawing on Radiohead. In between the tuning and returning and chat, the songs are pleasant, but the set as a whole, though well-received, wasn’t entirely gripping, and while contrast is key to keeping an evening moving, this set seemed to stall the flow a little.

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The Silver Reserve

Dead Space Chamber Music are something else altogether, and you would never know by sound alone that there are only three of them. The set begins by stealth, a sparse introduction with percussion like soft waves on sand, folk vocals seem to emanate from the back of the room before ringing glasses create a haunting wail. Then things begin to get really interesting, and their innovative approach to the creation of sound is something to behold. Drummer Ekaterina Samarkina is particularly impressive in her work and provides a real sonic focal point, first applying a bow to the edges of the cymbals, while singer Ellen Southern occupies herself for large parts by creating remarkable sounds in unconventional ways: the rustle of a foil sheet being unfolded slowly is just a start, and abstraction gives way to thunderous drums and slow, deliberate guitar. This is dramatic, and this is exciting, unexpectedly so. They incorporate a wide array of instruments, from bells and whistles to horse’s skull – although in truth there are no whistles, but pretty much anything else you could name is in the mix their sound and performance is bold and theatrical.

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Dead Space Chamber Music

I tend to wear earplugs when in the presence of live music, but didn’t for this: it wasn’t loud, until it was: from seemingly out of nowhere, the volume had crept up to a pulverising roar, evolving towards a Swans-like climax consisting of a brutal percussive barrage and squalling guitar and vocal ululations. The blistering wall of sound attained the force of a tsunami for a sustained crescendo, during which time stood still, and while some members of the audience swayed and nodded in their seats, I found myself practically paralysed by the sheer sonic intensity. The focus of the three musicians was absolute, and while Southern went through a number of changes to her visual presentation, Samarkina and guitarist Tom Bush, who really cut loose with some monumentally treble-heavy distortion during the second half of the set, lurk in the long shadows of the flickering candles as they grow ever shorter and the venue grows ever darker. The effect is nothing short of stunning, making for an almost overwhelming finale to a night of the most remarkable music.

Ultha / Ante-Inferno / Wolvencrown / Terra / Oneiros – The Fulford Arms, York, 13th April 2025

Posted: 14 April 2025 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

Ultha have been going for over a decade now, and have amassed an impressive catalogue of releases, but this is the German black metal band’s first UK tour. They’re out with Ante-Inferno as touring buddies, and tonight offers an impressive five-act lineup with early doors. And what could be better than back-to-back blistering metal on a Sunday evening? Some may suggest pretty much anything, but for many metal fans, this is the ultimate escape before the return to work. And with an early start and an early finish, this is gig perfection in terms of planning.

It’s not far off in terms of bands, either. Back-to-back black metal may sound like a slog, but tonight’s showcase presents the full spectrum of an increasingly diverse genre, with much to be excited about.

The venue is pretty busy from the start, and Oneiros make for a solid opening act, with atmospheric passages giving way to big, throbbing riffs. In terms of guitar work, apart from a bit of Brian May flourishing at the start of the second song, there’s nothing particularly flashy on display here, instead focusing on bold heavy chugs, and the songs evolve through movements defined by some deft tempo changes. There are some slower, trudging grooves which work nicely, and the front man doesn’t use his growly singing voice in between songs, which is a bonus. Sometimes, theatre is a stretch too far. They’re decent, for sure.

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Oneiros

Power trio Terra arrive in a wall of feedback and then blast in with some bowel-shredding bass. And they bring power to the max, with dual vocals and a maximalist sound. The bassist has obviously nabbed his stance from Lemmy as he leans back and raises his head up to the elevated mic. This is fierce. These guys have all the hair and all the beards and deliver a devastating wall of noise, with lengthy instrumental passages plugging away at expansive, repetitive riffs: they’re something like a black metal Hawkwind. The set’s five listed songs were performed as a single, continuous thirty-minute piece, and it was truly immense. For a band of this calibre to be so low on the bill speaks volumes about the quality of the lineup here.

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Terra

Wolvencrown are rather more clean-cut, but still bring beards, albeit trimmed ones (apart from the drummer). The quartet also bring the evening’s first synths and a whiff of Deep Heat. Their sound is crisper, cleaner, more cinematic, with rolling piano and soaring strings in the mix amidst their wide-screen compositions, which are overtly more technical in their bent, the lineup boasting seven-string guitar and five-string bass. The vocals hit the higher range, which adds a certain tension. Expansive, emotive, and highly polished, they’re hard to fault technically, and offer some immersive noise, too.

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Wolvencrown

Ante-Inferno bring the face paint. Not corpse paint, but dark smears, extending to arms and chests, too. With imposing candelabras positioned either side of the drum kit and smouldering incense smoke drifting from the stage, we’re in dark pagan territory here, and dressed in black and smeared in black, they’re barely visible in the low-level lighting. The sound is as filthy as their skins, scorched by the flames of hell as they create a sonic blanket that evokes pure purgatory. Heavy isn’t even close. It’s brutal and relentless, and there is no let-up at any point during their forty-five minute set.

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Ante-Inferno

Ultha’s lighting of choice is red, and red only. The stage is bathed in a bloodlike hue as they unleash their relentless fury. Their kit has two bass drums, and they’re blasted hard throughout. The vocals are a rabid squawk, pitching down to a guttural growl, and the interplay between the two vocals is perfect. Apart from the drums, which are up in the mix and clear as day, the instruments mesh into a dense squall of noise. This meshing creates a wall of noise that borders on shoegaze, only with thundering percussion and everything coming at a thousand miles per hour. It’s a full-throttle raging racket and they play primarily under red lighting, but seem remarkably affable between songs, even laid back, unflustered by a bust snare as they borrow one from another band. Theirs is a confidence that only comes from experience, and it shines through in the solidity of the performance.

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Ultha

For anyone who is of the opinion that all black metal sounds the same, tonight’s lineup abundantly disproves such a misconception, and while it may sound perverse to many, there’s something, if not necessarily soothing, then escapist about extreme metal shows. Mostly, the fans immerse themselves in the barrage of noise, nodding along in their own worlds.

Even having worn earplugs, I leave with my ears screaming, but feeling ultimately calm and uplifted.

Gans / Mince / Richard Carlson Band – The Fulford Arms, York, 8th April 2025

Posted: 12 April 2025 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

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

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

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Richard Carlson Band

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

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Mince

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

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Gans

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

Wardruna / Jo Quail – The Barbican, York, 22nd March 2025

Posted: 23 March 2025 in Live
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Christopher Nosnibor

Whistles, hoots, and pipes welcome the sellout crowd as they filter in – very slowly, due to the intense security involving airport style metal detectors on the forecourt, and of course, bag checks, the disposal of any fluids, and enforced cloakrooming of said bags (once any bottles of water etc. have been confiscated). Having only frequented small shows for the last few years, I’d forgotten – or erased – this aspect of attending larger venues, and it strikes me as sad that this is the world we live in now, and I drink my £8 pint very slowly indeed. But tonight is a night where it’s possible to distance oneself from all of the shit and recapture some of what’s been lost, however fleetingly.

Jo Quail, who never fails to deliver less than stunning performances, commands the large stage – and audience – with a captivating half-hour set, which opens with ‘Rex’ and swiftly builds an immense, dramatic, layered sound with loops continually expanding that sound. There’s no-one else who is really in the same field: with the innovative application of a range of pedals – not least of all a loop – she makes her solo cello sound like a full orchestra, with thunderous rumbles, percussion and big rock power chords all crashing in.

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Jo Quail

It’s a new song called ‘Embrace’ which is the second of her three pieces, and she closes with ‘Adder Stone’ from 2014 LP Caldera, which would subsequently provide the mane for her independent label. The rapturous reception is well-deserved. Her richly emotive sound is certainly a good fit with Wardruna, and it’s likely she’s won herself a fair few new fans tonight.

While the place had been pretty busy when she took to the stage, the lights come up at the end of her set and suddenly, it’s packed. Thuds and rumbles build the anticipation for the main event.

Opening the set with ‘Kvitravn’, Wardruna immediately create a fully immersive atmosphere with strong choral vocals and huge booming bass, and it’s an instant goosebumps moment. Recorded, they’re powerful, compelling: live, the experience goes way beyond. The vibrations of the bass and the thunderous percussion awaken senses seemingly dormant.

Performing as a seven-piece, hearing their voices coming together, filling the auditorium and rising to the skies is stirring, powerful and infinitely greater than the sum of the parts. It’s the perfect demonstration of what can be achieved through unity and collectivism, and the multiple percussive instruments being beaten, hard, with focus and passion produces something that’s almost overwhelming, and goes so far beyond mere music… It’s intense, and intensely spiritual, too.

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Wardruna

The sound is phenomenal, and it’s augmented by some incredible lighting: no standard spots or flashy lasers here: this is a magnificently considered and perfectly-choreographed display which works with the backdrop and the foliage on stage to optimally compliment and accentuate the performance. While I’m often somewhat unenthused by the larger-venue experience, preferring the intimacy of the sub-five-hundred capacity venue, this is a show that could only work on a big stage. Somehow, it’s the only way to do justice to music that truly belongs in a forest clearing, or on a clifftop, or on a glacier amidst the most immense and rugged vistas on the planet.

On ‘Lyfjaberg’, they achieve the perfect hypnotic experience, while dry ice floods the stage and lies about their ankles like a thick, low-lying forest mist, before Einar performs a solo rendition of Voluspá.

The second half of the set elevates the transcendental quality still further, as the percussion dominates the throbbing drones which radiate in Sensurround. This is music that exalts in the wind , waves, birds, trees – and the bear – and celebrates power of nature. It’s an experience that brings home just how far we have come from our origins, and a reminder that not all progress is good. Humans are the only species who adapt their habitat to their needs, rather than adapting to their habitat, and it’s a destructive trait. Even parasites strive to achieve a symbiotic relationship with their host, and a parasite which kills its host is a failed parasite because it finds itself seeking a new host. Without the earth, we have no habitat: we will not be colonising Mars any time soon, whatever Elon Musk says, or however much Philip K Dick you may read. But experiencing Wardruna live is the most uplifting, life-affirming experience.

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Wardruna

They bring up the lights and bask in the rapturous applause for some considerable time, before Einar speaks on nature and tradition and the importance of song, before they close with funeral song ‘Helvegen’, illuminated in red with burning torches along the front of the stage. It’s a strong, and moving piece delivered with so much soul that it’s impossible not to be affected.

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Wardruna

After another lengthy ovation, Einar dismisses the rest of the band and performs ‘Hibjørnen’ – a lullaby from a bear’s perspective – solo. After such a thoroughly rousing hour and a half, it makes for a beautifully soothing curtain close.

This was not merely a concert, and the performance, theatrical as it was, was not theatre, but a sincere channelling of purest emotion, a quest to connect the players with the audience and their innermost souls and their origins. It’s a unifying, and even a cleansing experience, a reminder of how we can all step back, breathe, and refocus. This was something special.

Feather Trade / Suspicious Liquid / Different State / Averno – The Fulford Arms, York, 6th March 2025

Posted: 7 March 2025 in Live
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Christopher Nosnibor

This is another of the outstanding ‘four bands for the price of a pint at the O2’ nights that’s become a consistent feature at The Fulford Arms in recent months, and the fact that previous outings have demonstrated that Feather Trade are worth easily double that on their own makes this an absolute must.

Tonight’s outing for post-punk 80s jangle indie five-piece Averno is rough round the edges, with a slightly scronky bass sound, and they sound – and sure, I’m showing my age here – like bands sounded in the 80s and 90s before everything got ultra-polished. Something happened along the way, where nearly every pub band came to display the slickness of arena bands. Historically, even big bands might hit bum notes, sound a bit flat or ropey, and we embraced it because it was liv and it wasn’t expected to sound like the studio version. Averno do sound a shade ramshackle, but the sound improved and their confidence visibly grew as the set progressed, and the appeal here is that they sound… real. They don’t hit any bum notes, and they look and sound stronger this time around.

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Averno

Grunge power trio Different State bring keen melodies and dark undercurrents – there are hints of 8 Storey Window and Bivouac alongside the obvious Nirvana nods, and the riffs are proper chunky. I reckon the drummer thought he got away with dropped stick twizzle in the second song… but he certainly recovered it well. In terms of performance, sound quality, in fact, absolutely everything, although they may not give us anything we haven’t heard before (I had to check to see if I’d seen them before, and I haven’t, and was simply experiencing that deva-vu that reverberates with certain types of bands), they did turn in an outstanding performance that made it feel like we were in a substantially larger venue.

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Different State

And then came Suspicious Liquid, who proved to be the revelation of the night. THIS is a band. And what a band. Unprepared, I wasn’t the only one to stand, jaw ajar, marvelling at the all-round magnificence of this act. Ostensibly, they’re a hard rock act, but they’re so much more, and they do it all so well. The soaring vocals are simply breathtaking – at times verging on the operatic, but also gutsy, and they sit well with the instrumentation, which is dark, with gothic hints, hitting full-on witchy metal and at times bringing big, beefy, Sabbath-esque riffs. At times, I’m reined of The Pretty Reckless, but Suspicious Liquid are way better, and way more dynamic. The vocalist is a strong focal point visually, but it’s her phenomenal vocals which really captivate. Unusually, in context, the front row is predominantly female, and this speaks significantly about not only the band but the fact the venue feels like a safe space – and it’s a space to watch high drama delivered with real weight and a rare assurance. It’s an immensely powerful set, and it’s not a huge stretch to imagine Suspicious Liquid touring nationally or being signed to a label like New Heavy Sounds.

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Suspicious Liquid

Just as some say that everything is better with bacon, it’s a musical fact that everything sounds better with reverb – and when it’s loud. Feather Trade have great songs and great style, but fully appreciate the additional benefits of reverb. They’ve sounded great every time I’ve seen them: they’re simply a quality band, who have survived every single spanner thrown into their works to emerge triumphant. Perhaps were it not for the spanners, they’d be headlining the O2 instead of The Fulford Arms – by rights they should be, because they’re that good, and tonight, the sound and the feel is more like a Brudenell gig than The Fulford Arms. Put simply, Feather Trade sound immense. Dense, layered guitar defines the sound, propelled by sturdy drumming and a tight, throbbing bass. There are no weak elements.

‘Dead Boy’ is a raging celebration of cancer survival which absolutely melts in tsunami of noise, a full on squall akin to The Jesus and Mary Chain, and with motorik drum-pad beats, and a huge squalling mesh of treble-loaded, reverb-drenched, and everything at a hundred decibels is reminiscent of A Place to Bury Strangers.

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Feather Trade

‘Trump hate song’ (as they pitch it) ‘Lord Have Mercy’ is absolutely blistering, while in contrast, penultimate song ‘Hold’ is altogether poppier and ventures into anthemic territory. It’s no criticism when I say it reminds me of Simple Minds but way heavier. It is a brain-meltingly strong performance, yielding a colossal wall of sound, ear-shredding, treble-laden reverb on reverb. Volume is not substitute for skill, of course, but it can optimise the intensity of a strong performance – and this was a strong performance, the kind of experience that leaves you in a headspin, utterly blown away. These guys deserve to be as huge as they sound.

Paskfest – The Fulford Arms, York, 22 February 2025

Posted: 23 February 2025 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

One might feel that naming an event after yourself is a bit of an egofest, but when the event in question is, essentially, the organiser’s birthday party, well, fair enough. And Mr Pasky has been putting on decent gigs for a while now, boasting eclectic lineups, and if live music is your thing, is there a better way of celebrating a birthday than putting on a bunch of bands you like and opening the venue doors to see them free of charge?

With doors being at 3pm, I missed the first couple of acts, and arrived in time for Pat Butcher, who I’ve not seen in an age, and all I can remember about them is carrots. They deliver a confident set of aggressive punk rock, with angry-sounding songs about- kidney stones, IBS, and raceday wankers – relatable to anyone who resides in York. And late on, they land the comical, gimmicky ‘Carrot in a Minute’, whereby they distribute raw carrots among the audience and challenge them to eat them within the song’s minute-long duration… just for shits an’ giggles. There’s something quite uplifting and entertaining witnessing a bunch of guys getting worked up about mundane stuff like neighbours who vacuum clean at all hours.

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Pat Butcher

Fat Spatula are up next, and I find I like them more each time I see them. Did I write that about them last time, too? Quite possibly, but then it’s true. They really seems to be hitting new peaks and seem more confident, too. ‘Benefits Tourist’ goes uptempo and shoutier amidst energetic but affable US indie style. There are hints of Pixies and Pavement, and some country leanings, too. A lot of the verses are delivered rapidfire like REM It’s the End of the World as We Know It’, but later on, experimental spoken word gives way to kinetic space rock with blasting motorik drums on the penultimate song. I’’s only three or four minutes long, but with that locked-in groove, they could do a half-hour long version and it still wouldn’t be long enough.

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Fat Spatula

As I mentioned, eclectic lineups are Pasky’s thing, and OG3 are a power trio who start out like Beastie Boys circa ‘83, but the rest of the set is a melding of punk and emo and some weird hybrid efforts that are like Eminem fronting a grunge act. And then they cover ‘Fight for Your Right’… and do a top job of it. There’s a bit of nu-metal going on, too, and the overall vibe is kinda Judgement Night soundtrack. It shouldn’t work, but it actually does.

Illegal Fireworks take to the stage sporting quite spectacular gold brocade jackets… Yes, plural: the bassist, guitarist, and drummer are all decked out in these quite remarkable garments, while the singer is all the sequins. It’s a bold look, and no mistake. The trouble is, it’s not an ironic gesture, and in the first minute I find myself absolutely detesting their smug, smooth, funky jazz. Not that I’m judgemental or anything… I just detest smug, smooth, funky jazz. But then they get a bit prog, a bit post rock, and show some potential. But thereafter they stick to smug, soul-infused smooth, funky jazz. Technically, they’re faultless, objectively they’re outstanding, and they go down a storm. But subjectively, I absolutely fucking hate it all, but especially the gurning bassist. It’s the kind of thing that would have been massive in the 80s, they’d have been all over Top of the Pops with glitterballs and dry ice and balloons bobbing about, and I’d have fucking hated it then, too. I know, I know, it’s a question of taste, but seriously, they should be illegal.

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Illegal Fireworks

I have reservations about Flat Moon at first, coming on like Glasto-loving middle-class hippies with their brand of parping sax-heavy jazz space rock. But there’s something compelling about their style and the delivery. I’m reminded in some way of Gong, and that trippy, whimsical strain of psychedelia, and they’ve got some riffs, and shit. are they tight. It’s no small feat considering there are six of them. They work seriously hard and bring entertainment to the max – and ultimately this is what tonight is all about.

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Flat Moon

There will be very few who loved every band on the bill, but that’s kind of the point of a lineup like this: you’ll get to see bands you might not have otherwise gone to see, you might like some and not others, and that’s fine. For a long, long time, the best thing about York was its proximity to Leeds, but now, even while there’s a dearth of venues, the city is throwing up a remarkable number of quality acts – for all tastes. And that is something to celebrate.

Heartsink / Bug Facer / Wench! – The Fulford Arms, York, 21st November 2024

Posted: 22 November 2024 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

Hull has produced some impressive bands – especially at the noisier end of the spectrum –in recent years, with Cannibal Animal, Bedsit, and Ketamine Kow being particular standouts, but not to forget BDRMM, Chambers, or Low Hummer. It’s always a treat when they send a contingent to York. Warren Records have established some sort of exchange programme with The Fulford Arms, offering some quality lineups for little or no money – as is the case tonight, thanks to the support of a well-deserved arts grant for the label. Turnouts tend to be decent, too, with an unusual ratio of travelling fans from that spot just north of the Humber.

Having raved about Bug Facer’s releases, there was no way I was going to pass upon the opportunity to see them live, and there’s a growing buzz around Wench! too.

It’s immediately apparent that the buzz is more than justified. Wow. Fuck me. Wench! are phenomenal. An all-female power-trio with the emphasis on power, they play proper punk, and play loud and hard, and they’re as tight as they are fierce. It’s drummer Kit Blight who covers the majority of the vocals, and the vocals re strong, all while blasting beats at a hundred miles an hour. Bassist Hebe Gabel, a headbanging blur of spikes and studs is a dominant physical presence on stage, and steps in with some super-heavy wah-wah loaded lead breaks which owe more to stoner rock than punk. The interplay between the three is magnificent: each brings a different style of musicianship and performance to the stage, and they are one hundred percent complimentary. This may only be their second gig outside of Hull, but shows like this are almost certain to get them bookings – and fans – racking up fast.

When you read about how grassroots venues are vital for feeding the upward chain, and you realise you’re watching a band with the potential to join the ranks of Dream Wife and Amyl And The Sniffers a few years hence, the narrative takes on a powerful resonance.

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Wench!

Bug Facer’s studio work is a blinding cacophony. Live, they’re something else, a brain-melting, eardrum-punishing, feedback-shredding squall of filthy chaos. The vocals are shared between the drummer and bassist – who is also, it turns out, guitarist, to add to the confusion.

They look like they sound, and sound like they look: the bassist is a burly guy with tattoos and a Meshuggah T-shirt; the bassist looks like he’s travelled in time from 1974, sporting an orange Adidas T-Shirt, flared cords and long hair with a home-cut fringe; meanwhile, the drummer wears comfort-fit faded jeans and a comedic cast T-shirt. You never saw such a bunch of misfits, and it translates directly into the music – perhaps more accurately described as a blast of sonic mayhem.

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Bug Facer

Driving rhythms underpin a wild tempest of discord and noise. They boast the crunchiest ribcage-rattling bass and a wall of guitar noise that sounds like war. The vocals are an array of shouts and grunts and monotone spoken word mumblings and psychotic screams. More than once, the bassist and guitarist swap instruments.

They don’t say much. “Is this in tune? It’s close enough” is representative of both the bantz and the approach to performing. It’s not punk, it’s not post-punk, it’s not sludge, or stoner, or anything really; but it contains elements of all of the aforementioned, and they play like they want you to hate them and getting the biggest kick out of being as sonically challenging as they can muster. Ragged, raw, and absolutely wild, it’s one hell of a set.

Credit to Heartsink for being on this bill and willing to follow Bug Facer, with whom they’ve shared a stage previously. It’s certainly a brave move – or an example of insanity.

The last time I – knowingly – saw them was when I caught the tail-end of a set at The Key Club in Leeds in 2018. Six years is certainly time enough to evolve. But punk-pop doesn’t really evolve, and exists in a state of arrested development, just as it always did, when, on breaking in the early 00s, middle-aged men would sing songs about being in school and having crushes on their classmates, or their teachers, or their classmates’ mums.

“Is anyone a fan of the US Office?” In this question, we get a measure of both the quality of the chat, and the inspiration behind their songs. I’m not entirely convinced it counts as evolution.

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Heartsink

Credit where it’s due: they are undeniably solid, energetic, the songs are catchy, and they’re clearly enjoying themselves. People down the front are enjoying them, too. They’re co-ordinated with matching rainbow guitar straps… and trainers, and beards. They do bring some big riffy breakdowns in places, and the melodies are keen. But… but…ultimately, it’s generic and bland. And pop-punk. There’s clearly an eternal market for this, and fair play, especially as, what they’ve ultimately achieved is to get people out and dancing to original (‘original’) songs at a grassroots venue on the coldest November night in a decade. When venues around the country are disappearing by the week, and the ones we have are hosting tribute acts five nights a week, having the option to view three solid quality bands – two of whom are absolutely out there, albeit in very different ways – for no quids is something to shout about.

Gothic Moth – Cemetery Chapel, York, 28th September 2024

Posted: 29 September 2024 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

It doesn’t get much more goth than a gig in a graveyard. Through the wrought iron gates, the approach to the chapel, the venue for tonight’s performance, is set either side and as far as the eye can see with headstones. Fulford cemetery is immense. The chapel is an appropriately imposing building: designed by James Pigott Pritchett and completed in 1838, it’s a grand neoclassical structure and considered possibly one of the greatest cemetery chapels in the country, with huge doric columns outside, while its interior, white with gilt trimmed faux-pillars which only accentuate the incredibly high ceiling is spectacular to behold.

The room – a neat oblong – is packed out with a broad array of people, but there’s a strong showing of what I’d call Whitby goths, that is to say, the kind who dress to impress rather than your biker jacket and boots type. There’s a lot of lace, silk, and taffeta to be seen, meaning that for once I feel rather less conspicuous sporting a knee-length velvet coat. But equally, the audience is notable for its broad spectrum and diverse demographic, and while details of the event in advance had been purposefully scant, there is clearly a keen interest for something different, and not specifically in York. There are people who have travelled to be here tonight.

The bar, such as it is, is offering red and white wine, bottles of Stella, and Coke, and taking a seat toward the back – the front ten rows were full and by the time the lights go down, leaving the space illuminated by mellow candlelight, the seats are pretty much all occupied. It’s pleasing to see, especially knowing that this event coincides with the annual nighttime walk for cancer, and a metal gig not five minutes up the road.

First, we were treated to some operatic vocal accompanied by piano. It’s not only exquisitely performed, but it’s absolutely perfect for the setting. And in this moment, it becomes crystal clear that this is going to be an event like no other. To describe it as an evening of culture would be to downplay all of the other music events and spoken word nights and more on offer, but when it comes to high culture, there’s most certainly a gap – but the greatest gap is in events which bridge the divide between your regular gig and a night at the theatre or the opera or a night at the proms. This, however, is a superbly curated event which achieves precisely that.

Immediately after this introduction, host and co-ordinator Stephen Kennedy leads an ensemble consisting of bass guitar and percussion through a set of three songs, starting with a brace of deep cuts from Fields of the Nephilim’s catalogue, with ‘Celebrate’, and then ‘Requiem’ from Mourning Sun, with the trio joined for the second two songs of their set by a cellist who remains on stage to play a solo set after. Kennedy’s vocal is strong, and he really does a remarkable job of reproducing Carl McCoy’s gravel-heavy growl.

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After a handful of cello instrumentals, Kennedy returns to the stage – although technically it’s the floor, but wonderfully lit – to provide vocal accompaniment to her graceful strings.

The switches between performers are near-instantaneous, with no announcements as to who’s who and no-one informing us who they are. There is a programme available at the merch table, but in a way, the individual credits feel of little import: this is very much a collective work, an ambitiously grand collaboration, striving to create a unique experience of an ever-shifting sonic smorgasbord. Individual names and egos are put aside in the name of this being Gothic Moth. There’s harp – moving – and powerful, and an emotive vocal while makes for a stirring performance, which is rapturously received, a solo acoustic-guitar led performance with folk-hued vocals, before the first half of the evening is rounded off with a piano and tenor recital, Benjamin Staniforth’s impressive voice matched only by his impressively voluminous leather trews.

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If the second half offered more of the same, with some of the performers getting a second set, it also gave us a while lot more. During a longer harp and voice set, the rendition of Metallica’s ‘Nothing Else Matters’ was a clear standout of the night, but then again, Iryna Muha’s Ukrainian folk performance, with acoustic guitar – with some effects to really fill out the sound – and hurdy-gurdy was mesmerising, and was equally well received.

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After a clarinet interlude from a man in a hat and long coat (there are a fair few of those this evening) who turns out to be Ian Karlheinz Taylor from Skeletal Family, Taylor moves to the keyboard and the full band return for a magnificent and moving rendition of The Mission’s ‘Sweet Bird of Passage’ followed by ‘Island in a Stream’. Close your eyes and it could be Wayne Hussey dinging: Kennedy, it seems, is truly a vocal chameleon, bringing the night to a close with a remarkably close approximation of Ian Curtis on an impressive version of Joy Division’s ‘Atmosphere’ – something this event had in copious amounts.

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Stephen Kennedy needs to take a bow: this, the first Gothic Moth event, was an incredibly ambitious coming together of a staggeringly eclectic range of artists, and many of those collaborating hadn’t even met one another until the day. This is unquestionably testament to their individual and collective talent, but also to Kennedy’s aptitude as a curator in bringing them together. Everything about this evening was stunning, and it’s pleasing to see future events are already being booked, filling a niche few knew even existed.

Soma Crew / Needlework / Fat Spatula – The Crescent, York, 5th September 2024

Posted: 7 September 2024 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

Sometimes, I get a little fixated on an idea. And the last few days, with social media and pretty much every news outlet pounding the story around the Oasis ‘dynamic pricing’ debacle, I’ve found myself viewing the gigs I attend in a slightly different light. More to the point, I’ve come to consider them in a ‘vs Oasis’ context, and so tonight, at a show presenting three local bands, where I knew a fair few people, with a few beers in me, found myself frothing enthusiastically “three bands for a fiver! And £4 pints!”. I do sometimes – often – worry about how I come across to people in social settings, but sod it. I think I’d rather be irritatingly excited than perpetually surly, and I always shut up and watch when bands are actually playing.

But enough of my social anxiety. Let’s focus on this: three bands for a fiver. £4 pints. You simply cannot go wrong. Tonight, the bands are set up on the floor in front of the stage, meaning that the 75 to 100 attendees are packed in tighter, and what could be a large space with a lot of room and not much vibe is transformed: there’s a heightened level of buzz and a real connection and intimacy in standing mere feet from the bands. If all the bands are absolute shit, you’ve paid a fiver: less than the price of a pint in many places. If one band is even halfway decent, you’re up on the deal.

Now consider forking our £150, or even £350, or even more, to see Oasis. And imagine of it isn’t the best gig of your life. You’re going to be gutted. I mean, you probably deserved it for being an Oasis fan in the first place, but I’ll keep that criticism in check for now. But imagine paying a fiver and standing close enough to the bands that you can pretty much smell them, and they’re all absolutely outstanding. So good that you think ‘I’d pay £20 for these’, and all three bands are of that standard. Imagine. We don’t all have to imagine. Sometimes, it’s possible to take a punt and be at one of those magical events. Like, imagine seeing Oasis at King Tut’s for a fiver. You’d feel like you’d won the lottery. The point is that there are little gigs like this all around the country every night of the week. And in convincing myself I should go out tonight, despite not having a stitch to wear, I found a band who really, really hit me. This is how it goes with making revelatory discoveries: you know nothing about an act, have no expectations, and are utterly blown away when they prove to be absolutely fucking awesome. But that isn’t even the best bit: the best bit is – and here’s the spoiler – that all three bands were absolutely top-drawer.

Up first were Fat Spatula, who I’ve maybe seen a couple of times and thought were decent – but tonight shows that something has happened since I last saw them. They could reasonably be described as making lively, uptempo US-influenced indie with some strong dashes of country. Their songs are infectious and fun, and. quirky, occasional nods to the sound of Pavement… But then, also a bit jazzy, a bit mathy, a bit Pixies, with sudden bursts of noise. They boast a aturdy rhythm section with 5-string bass and tight, meaty and incredibly hard-hitting drumming. The last song of the set, with its solid baseline and monster guitar-driven chorus, reminded me of DZ Deathrays. And they’re ace. And so, it proves, are Fat Spatula.

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Fat Spatula

As often happens to me, and has since I started gig-going well over thirty years ago, midway through the set, some massive bugger stands.in front of me and proceeds to rock both back and forth and side to side, occasionally adjusting his man-bun. It’s usually the tallest person in the room, but the singer from Needlework is one of the tallest bastards I’ve seen in a good while and he spends the set hunched over the mic stand, from time to time plucking percussion instruments from the floor and tinkering with them, and sometimes plonking the keyboards in a Mark E Smith kind of fashion.

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Needlework

The guitarist, meanwhile, is wearing a Big Black T-short, and is a major contributor to the band’s angular sound as they collectively crank out some truly wild and wholly unpredictable mathy discord. With clanging, trebly guitar, incongruous clarinet, and monotone semi-spoken vocals… and the guts to shush audience talking in quiet segment, they’re something else. It’s jarring, Fall-like, a bit Gallon Drunk with cymbals, shaker, cowbell all in the mix more than anything, their lurching, jolting racket reminds me of Trumans Water. No two ways about it, Needlework is the most exciting new band I’ve seen in a while. Speaking to a few people after their set, I’m by no means alone in this opinion. With the right support and exposure, some gigs further afield and all the rest, their potential is immense, and 6Music would be all over them. The world needs Needlework, and you probably heard it here first, but credit has to go to Soma Crew for putting them on.

Soma Crew – go for the slow hypnotic minimal intro, admitting afterwards they they’re a shade nervous following the previous acts. They’re honest and humble, and not in a false way: it’s clear that they’ve selected support acts who will make for a good night rather than make themselves look good – but because all three acts bring something quite different, there’s none of the awkwardness of any band blowing the others away. Besides, they very quicky get over those initial nerves, and crank it up with the big psych groove of ‘Sheltering Sky’, and in no time they’re fully in their stride. New song ‘Wastelands’ is haunting, and again – as is their way – built around a nagging repetitive guitar line and pulsating motorik groove, where drums and bass come together perfectly. The four of them conjure a massive sound. At times the bass booms and absolutely dominates, while at other points, everything meshes. Bassist Chris stands centre stage sporting a poncho that Wayne Hussey would have been proud of during his stint in The Sisters of Marcy, and once again, I find myself absolutely immersed in their performance.

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Soma Crew

So, to return to the start: three bands for a fiver. All three provided premium-quality entertainment. Sure, people go to see heritage bands in massive venues for huge sums to hear familiar songs, but it’s a dead-end street. Where does the next wave of heritage bands with familiar songs come from if no-one goes to see the acts who are playing the small venues? Do the £350 Oasis tickets provide – to do the maths – an experience that’s seventy times better, more enjoyable than a night like this? I’m not about to prove either way, because my argument is obviously rhetorical. THIS is where it’s at if you truly love live music. And I will say it again: three bands for a fiver: cheaper than a pint in most places these days. And three great bands, at that.

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