The Brudenell Social Club | Aural Aggravation

Posts Tagged ‘The Brudenell Social Club’

Pissed Jeans / Jade Hairpins – The Brudenell Social Club, Leeds, 4th April 2024

Posted: 8 April 2024 in Live, Reviews
Tags: Half Divorced, hatrrdcore, Jade Hairpins, Leeds, Live Review, Pissed Jeans, Rage, Sub Pop, The Brudenell Social Club

Christopher Nosnibor

Thursday night in Leeds, and while the extent to which grassroots venues are struggling is a hot topic right now, you’d never think it on arrival at The Brudenell, who are packing two sold-out shows simultaneously tonight, and it’s getting busy the moment they open the doors.

They must have done a massive batch of wristbands for Yard Act’s recent residency, as they’re still using them tonight. I was glad to whip that one off the moment I’d left – I’d hate for anyone to think I’d actually gone to see them. But it’s good to know they’re not going to waste, and they’re using surplus wristbands rather than increasing beer prices (the fact there’s a major-league venue where you can still get a pint – and a decent pint at that – for £3.40 in 2024 is amazing and testament to The Brudenell’s operational model).

It might have been while watching an episode of Law and Order that I quite recently discovered the significance of jade hairpins as a thing, but the band? They’re an unknown quantity. Sometimes surprises are a good thing. Others, no so much. The only positive about turning up for this acts is that… no, there’s not one positive. They are fucking awful. I’ve come to give leeway to acts who aren’t my thing, who are a bit ropey, who may be having an off night, who are new… and as such it’s rare that I actively dislike a band. But Jade Hairpins are so awful it hurts. They sound like they can all play, individually, but together? No. They make a horrible uncoordinated mess of doing big 80s radio rock and everything about it is simply wrong and their set drags for the longest and most painful half hour imaginable.

In contrast, Pissed Jeans power through their set in the blink of an eye. This review has taken considerably longer to write than the set’s duration. The fact of the matter is that it’s difficult to really do justice to a performance of this calibre. Bassist Randy Huth is wearing a Poison Idea T-shirt, in case anyone needed reminding of the band’s hardcore credentials. They shouldn’t: their latest album, Half Divorced, is a really gnarly beast of an album that really does dig deep into their roots, and is a blistering roar of a record, which was always going to translate into some intense live performances.

They’re straight in with a couple of cuts from the new album, Half Divorced, dispatching ‘Sixty-Two thousand Dollard in Debt’ up front with a corpuscle-busting ferocity.

The thing about Pissed Jeans, as I mentioned in my review Half Divorced, is that they’ve evolved as they’ve aged, and if Why Love Now was a nasty and at times awkward and uncomfortable discussion of office politics, shoving the wrongness of toxic masculinity in our faces, Half Divorced is the sound of midlife crisis articulated as rage thrown in every direction, but none more forcefully than inwards.

Matt Korvette’s performances have always been centred around his being a guy who’ s not especially cool playing at being cool because he’s on stage – the slightly off-key office team leader who resents his job and everything corporate and yearns to be a full-time rock star but has bills to pay, so sucks it up while seething, and then pouring all of this festering frustration into the music. For me – and surely many others – much of the appeal of Pissed Jeans has been around their knack for ‘keeping it real’ – uncomfortably so, grappling with the aggravations of mundane white-collar existence. Drummer Sean McGuinnes’ frayed sticks (I spend half the set wondering how long before one of them splinters mid-song: he doesn’t play gently) aren’t an affectation: he’s got bills to pay which take priority over having a sackful of gleaming fresh sticks hanging off his – very modest – kit.

So how do Korvette’s cool slick moves and poses work now he’s no longer cool and dynamic, that rad and right-on, go-getting new team manager, and instead he’s bald (shaven head to hide the onward match of hair loss) and flabby in his vest and bust-out-at-the crotch and back pockets ragged jeans? It could be cringey, like seeing fat Elvis or Guns ‘n’ Roses. But no: perhaps it’s my age, but this performance channels a powerful energy, a recognition that life is racing past and there’s no stopping it, so when the opportunity’s there, you go all out.

The audience spans a massive demographic, and the reaction says no-one here thinks they’re past anything. The exchanges between band and audience are magnificently difficult, even tetchy – the ultimate bantz.

While much of the set – unsurprisingly – showcases Half Divorced, with ‘Moving On’ standing out as a ragged anthem with an upbeat sentiment that sounds more like a delusional self-spoken pep-talk than a real statement of positive intent – ‘Love Without Emotion’ and ‘Ignorecam’ from Why Love Now are raw and ragged. They blast through the songs so as to render them a blur, and the set doesn’t delve too far into their back catalogue for the most part, but ends with a blinding rendition of rabid slacker anthem ‘False Jesii Part 2’.

An encore isn’t always guaranteed with Pissed Jeans, but they’re back on about a minute later to blast out a two-song encore that lasts about three minutes and probably featured ‘Monster’ and ‘Boring Girls’.

It’s all over in an hour and fifteen and the lights are up at 10:15, but no-one’s leaving feeling short-changed: we’ve just witnessed a total sonic tornado, and a band on top form.

Big|Brave / Aicher / B E L K – The Brudenell Social Club, Leeds, 15th May 2023

Posted: 16 May 2023 in Live
Tags: 15th May 2023, Aicher, B E L K, BIG|BRAVE, Human Worth, Leeds, The Brudenell Social Club

Christopher Nosnibor

The release of nature morte, which surpassed even the shattering power of Vital, made the return of Montral’s Big|Brave to Leeds an absolute must-see show. The addition of B E L K to the lineup as the local support only added to the buzz.

Since finding a home on one of my favourite labels in the UK, Human Worth, B E L K have absolutely not sold out or become slicker, maintaining the raw energy that they displayed the first time I caught them at Wharf Chambers alongside USA Nails, Blacklisters, and the sadly-missed Cannibal Animal back in November 2021.

B E L K

The sound is dominated by brutal bowel-shaking bass: perversely, it’s not a criticism when I say it sounds like arse in a gloriously messy way – because it’s precisely how it’s supposed to sound. It’s sometimes hard to tell if they’re in time or in tune amidst the chaotic racket, it’s a snarling, grating shouty racket. When they slow it down, it’s a grinding trudge in the Godflesh vein, while the rest is full-throttle gnarly grindcore, short sharp sub-two minute assaults. Everything creaks, crackles and feeds back. The vocals are almost buried in a mudslide of noise and everything sounds as fucked as the drummer’s cymbal.

Historically, I’ve researched support acts in advance, but more recently, I’ve been more open to the element of surprise, and this has yielded some unexpected revelations, Aicher is one of them. Recorded, I suspect I would have found his dark ambient sound sculptures appealing, but, well, y’know. There’s a fair bit of it around. This means I was taken unawares by the immense power of this set, both in terms of performance and physical power. Instead of the tentative starts common to sets in this field, Aicher is bold, and loud, waving what I assume to be a contact mic to create sounds that echo and explode. He plays in near darkness, enhancing the atmosphere, picking up a bass guitar which yields sounds as strange as it looks. There are thunderous crashes of noise. He unplugs the guitar and plays jack plug against the strings and pickups, and later scrapes guitar neck against the edge of the stage. It’s a mesmerising performance: he seems comfortable lurching around in the shadows, cranking out a billows of sound with lots of low end vibrations which hit a throbbing sweet spot. Over a sustained period, the ear pressure builds and the effect is like swimming…. Then from amidst the odd synthetic beats, the volume rises again. He picks up the bass once again and it doesn’t rumble but it roars, and we’re all rooted to the spot, stunned into silence.

Aicher

The weird bass is back when Big | Brave take to the stage, and we subsequently learn that Aicher – or Liam Andrews as he’s also known. He’s a great fit, adding another layer of depth to the powerhouse drone riff howl that is Big | Brave. On record, they’re immense, but live… it’s hard to convey just how gripping they are, how immersive and all-encompassing the sound. Of the many shows I saw in 2022, theirs here at the Brudenell is a big standout. Sometimes you wonder if a show was really as good as you remember, if it was just the atmosphere, the beer, or whatever. But no, seeing them again hits just as hard: this is a band with a rare intensity – and they play at a punishing volume with a lot of it coming from their towering backline. They’re not quite in Sunn O))) or Dinosaur Jr territory, but for a smaller band, they really do lug some big kit, with three monster stacks all above their own head height dominating the stage.

Big|Brave

And while they have space, the original three play close together in the centre of the stage, and you can see the subtle interactions between them – although the intuitive interplay is the real joy to behold. They are each lost in their own spaces, and we are all lost in those spaces with them. Each player brings something quite different, and it’s almost unfathomable that they should cohere in such a way. Robin Wattie is understated, her shrieking, desperate vocals half-buried beneath her own guitar and that of Mathieu Ball, who’s restless all over, nonstop, while the drumming – slow, hard, methodical, often with both stick striking the same drum at once and hammering an ultra -low BPM akin to Swans circa Greed –goes straight through you.

The lighting is as stark and minimal as the music, with two spots facing the audience providing the primary illumination.

Big|Brave

It’s hard to fathom that regular instruments – albeit with a metal bass – can make this noise and they have pretty compact pedal boards considering. The sustain!!! Ball and Andrews grind their headstocks into their amps and shake, twist and bend the becks of their instruments to yield maximum sustain and twisted feedback as minutes pass between chords, and it’s truly something to behold.

Big|Brave

There is no interaction during the set, which is built around nature morte in sequence, to have done so would have torn the atmosphere. And when Wattie does speak, she’s timid, grateful, and against the conventions of expectation, it’s not to thank us and announce an encore, but to thank us and leave.

There is a purity about Big|Brave which is rare: it’s clear that the way they play is not about showmanship but because this is what they feel, but to see a band wring every drop of a note from an instrument while rattling your ribcage is a special experience.

Big|Brave are outstanding in every way: emotive, monolithic, but about so much more than noise. They just keep getting better… and better. And this… this is something else. And it’s special. But fuck it hurts. Live music doesn’t get better than this.

Benefits / Straight Girl – The Brudenell Social Club, Leeds, 26th November 2022

Posted: 27 November 2022 in Live
Tags: anger, Benefits, Harsh, Leeds, Live Review, Noise, Political, Punk, Rage, shit britain, Straight Girl, The Brudenell Social Club, zeitgeist

Christopher Nosnibor

It’s a big night for Benefits. For the final show of a nine-date tour, and their biggest shows to date, they return to the place where it all began – properly, at least – a few weeks shy of a year ago, when they supported I Like Trains in this very room. A lot has happened since then, and not just in terms of their surging fanbase. Back in February, it was clear they were a band on the up. Now, that trajectory continues unabated, but the leaps they’ve made are astronomical.

Bringing Straight Girl on the tour as support was a great move, and speaks further volumes about who Benefits are.

Straight Girl just can’t suppress a grin as various points throughout their set that boasts massive banging techno beats through a combination of live synths and laptop, with pitch shifting and distortion on the vocals, and it’s all delivered with relentless energy. It wouldn’t be a Straight Girl set without technical difficulties, and on this outing, the audio from the laptop stopped abruptly, but as always, they ride it out with aplomb. Sprinting off stage for a change of cable with a barrage of ‘fucks’, the chaos seems to be an inevitable part of any show, and they power on through, radiating so much good energy, bouncing and leaping nonstop.

Straight Girl

The new song premièred tonight about hating the country is a mangled dark noise blast that’s clearly influenced by the tour headliners. It’s also raw, powerful and real, and yet, ultimately, their performance is so, so much fun.

And so to the main event, and for one night only, Cat Myers is replaced at the drum stool by Neil Cooper of Therapy? The Adverts’ ‘One Chord Wonders’ is on just before they take the stage among a cracking PA playlist of punk and new wave and nihilistic classics, including The Sisters of Mercy and Sleaford Mods, and they come on to ‘The Electrician’ by The Walker Brothers.

There’s simply so much to absorb here. Benefits certainly draw a broad demographic, and the place is close to selling out: only a few minutes previous, Kingsley was manning the merch stall, with a queue twice the length of the one for the bar, but he’s come away to bring the noise, and to the back of the stage, he’s got a nice big stack of lyric sheets.

There are a lot of words to remember, and they’re delivered fast and furious, with a strong emphasis on the furious. Anyone wondering how his voice and general energy levels would be after eight shows is immediately answered, and the band as a whole positively crackle.

Benefits

‘Empire’ starts with solo spoken word into before the blistering noise barrage hits. And from thereon in, it’s relentless. Only a few songs in, Hall’s legs are trembling and he can barely get the words out he’s so breathless and yet he still goes on. He’s got the platform and isn’t going to waste a second. It’s not about ego: it’s about catharsis. He simply has to do this, even if it wrings him dry, every night, and with the dynamic, expressive jazz-style drumming really standing out amidst the ear-bleeding squall cranked out from laptops and synths by the Major brothers, the power is stepped up to a whole new level.

The stripped back, percussion-free ‘Shit Britain’ finds Hall sliding in a segments of New Order’s ‘World in Motion’ at the end. Limbs flailing, Hall’’ more intense than ever, and the sweat is seeping through back of hoodie halfway through the set, and by the end he looks like he’s just stepped out of the shower. Last time I saw anyone sweat so hard it was The Rollins Band, and that’s a fair measure of just how hard this band plays.

Benefits

‘Thump’ is a banger, and it’s still amazing to think that it was premiered at Rolling Stone, but yet again, it’s just another indication of how far they’ve come, and how they’ve evolved significantly in less than a year, without compromising a single thing. And if introducing the band members before the finale – like Bon Jovi and Therapy? – seems incongruously conventional, its knowing delivery is another indication of the newfound sense of performance and showmanship that differentiates Benefits now and Benefits at the start of the year.

For all that, they remain super-humble, their feet firmly on the ground and with their eyes focused on getting the message out there. Hall speaks honestly about his anxiety, and explains how Tories are welcome at their shows for debate and education. Inclusion and education are the real keys here, and for all the sound and fury, Benefits are anything but joyless. Tonight, we experience a collective catharsis that couldn’t be more unifying. And this, people, is where the revolution really starts.

Salvation / B-Movie / Loungewear – The Brudenell Social Club, Leeds, 9th September 2022

Posted: 10 September 2022 in Live
Tags: 80s, album launch, B-Movie, Indie, Leeds, Live Review, Loungewear, old goths, Psychedelic, Salvation, The Brudenell Social Club

Christopher Nosnibor

Thank fuck that not everything has been cancelled this week. Not everyone wants to show ‘respect’ by suspending al, activity to watch tributes 24/7 on every TV channel. Monarchist or not, what’s important at any time of trouble is a sense of community, and anyone looking for an example of something that makes our country great – and there are precious few right now, for a great many – it’s a music scene that continues to thrive despite everything that’s happened in recent years. The Brudenell, in particular, represents the best of everything that can be good about people, community, and the therapeutic benefits of music, particularly in a live setting.

The place is bustling with Sisters, Mission, and Bauhaus T-shirts, and Ashford and Simpson are playing over the PA. My pocket smells of the samosa from Abu Bakir, the Asian supermarket next door, that I’ve got stashed for on the train home. This is all good; it’s all so very Leeds, so very Brudenell as I mind my own business with a £3.90 pint of local ale.

I’m as excited for B-Movie as the headliners, having been introduced to them sometime in the late 80s while in my mid-teens. Admittedly, I hadn’t appreciated that they’d been active in some capacity since 2011, meaning they’ve remained an act I never expected to see live. On top of that, the last time I saw Salvation was at Leeds Met at the March Violets reunion gig in December 2007. It’s clear I’m certainly not alone in being revved at the prospect of this show for the launch of the vinyl edition of We Gave You Diamonds… Live at De Casino!.

Loungewear are an unknown quantity, and sadly many punters remain in the bar for their set, during which they deliver a neat set of layered, jangly dream pop that’s a bit shoegaze, with a dash of The Twilight Sad, and at the same time very Leeds. There’s not much movement on stage, but it kinda works in context: they’ve got decent songs and significant potential.

Loungewear

B-Movie have a lot of synths, and are a fair bit slicker than their back in the day sound. As a duo, comprising original front man Steve Hovington, and keyboardist Black Marine, they’ve revamped the songs and initially, it’s simply good to hear the songs being played. ‘This Still Life’ lands second in the set, stripped back and slowed down, brooding, gothic, and it’s well executed and suiting the arrangement. But while the performance is solid, something is sadly lacking, namely a band, and the set rapidly falls to a tedious sameness.

B-Movie

A slow and super-croony ‘Marilyn Dream’ is led by dripping piano. In fairness, ‘Institution Walls’ works well as a drama-laden, high-tension gothic horror piece, until you remember how it used to sound, at which point it becomes slightly disappointing. ‘Nowhere Girl’ receives similar treatment. It’s a genuinely classic tune, but in this format is sadly lacking, and the volume of chatter says the audience at large aren’t exactly enthralled, either. As much as the crowd may be ageing, it looks like lounge goth is never going to catch on with the old diehards, especially with an overlong set. Half an hour would have been plenty. They close with a similarly disappointing rendition of ‘Remembrance Day’. It makes sense that Hovington, who was never the most melodic singer, should work within his range, but B-Movie songs always centred around the pace and the dynamic, and tonight they have neither.

Salvation set up to Spiringsteen’s ‘Tunnel of Love’ and I’m getting peckish for the samosas, but instead grab another pint.

There’s gothbird mumdancing galore from the first bar as Salvation kick off with ‘All and More’. The sequenced bass groove is solid as the drum machine kicks along nicely. There are people up on shoulders, spreading arms and singing back every word with gusto just two songs in, and it’s a proper old-school Leeds goth party. He may resemble Mark Kermode these days, but in contrast to Steve Hovington, Danny Mass’ is still a compelling front man, and his voice hasn’t aged a day, and he belts the songs out sounding exactly as they sounded on the original eighties releases, and as they have live in the 90s and 00s and on the new live album, and there’s no two ways about it, they’re a strong live act.

‘Puppet Master,’ the first of a handful of tracks from the 1987 debut album Diamonds are Forever goes down a storm before the spindly indie goth crossover of ‘The Shining’. The two guitars intertwine magnificently, and Ben’s lead guitar work is excellent, tight but delicate.

Salvation

Mid set, after ‘She’s an Island’ they bring on live bass and drums for the second half, in recognition of the lineup that features on the album recorded on tour with The Mission, starting with ‘Sunshine Superman’, with flipside ‘Payola’ also getting an airing. It’s more overtly ‘rock’ and brings a very different kind of energy, not least of all with the extra bodies and movement on stage.

Salvation

Sadly, I seems like they’re never going to go near the songs from the debut 12” on Merciful Release, but arguably, it was a different time and a different sound that wouldn’t sit with the psychedelic indie sound of the rest of the set.

Limited train services back to York meant I had to forgo the end of the set, which makes for a bit of a lame end to a review, and while I’ll spare the rant about the impact of privatisation and the capitalism of diminishing returns, that’s the reality of attending live shows even in nearby cities, and as much as I’m here to report on shows, I’m also interested in the how we experience music as part of life, and its place in culture and society. The journey home was shit and the train delayed by half an hour, but what matters is that Salvation were great, and the vibe in the room was truly wonderful. Old goths – they’re a decent bunch, you know.

The Twilight Sad / Michael Timmons – The Brudenell Social Club, Leeds, 24th August 2022

Posted: 25 August 2022 in Live
Tags: Frightened Rabbit, Leeds, Live Review, Michael Timmons, The Brudenell Social Club, The Twilight Sad

Christopher Nosnibor

This show was originally scheduled to take place back at the end of March, but then as has continued to be the plague of touring bands, a positive Covid test meant it was postponed, and co-ordinating schedules between bands and venues who are still playing catchup from the last two-and-a-bit years meant that we had to wait a while.

It’s a great advertisement for both the Brudenell and Leeds that the venue is hosting two sell-out (or near enough) shows on the same night, with Ezra Furman in the main room and the Sad in the newer one. The bars may have been packed – and I still can’t get used to the concept of forming an orderly queue at a bar – snice when? – but the vibe was a typically convivial one, with random strangers chatting about which gig they were off to and the like while they waited.

The Twilight Sad are frequent visitors to the Brudenell, which they recently posted on FaceBook is one of their ‘favourite venues in the world’, and they’re not alone. Like many others, I’ve been coming here for well over a decade now, and always feel like I’m at home, and it’s also fair to say that in all that time, I’ve never witnessed a bad gig or experienced poor sound – and I’ve never paid more than about £4 for a pint either. Their last visit was in 2019, but the time before that was also in this room, where they debuted material from the then-forthcoming album It Won’t Be Like This All the Time, back in June 2018. They had Michael Timmons in toe, then, and it’s a welcome return for him as he promises us a night of ‘depressing music’.

Michael Timmons

He seems more confident on this outing as he delivers a set of his quiet, reflective kitchen-sink contemplations on love, life, and death – mostly death – with some delicate picking and a dense Glaswegian accent, It’s lifted by some self-effacing humour, and it’s impossible not to warm to the young guy.

In context, depressing music can be the most uplifting, and the sense of community and collectivism is a joyous experience. It’s clear from the off that The Twilight Sad – James in particular – are pumped for this show. He and the drummer are sporting utilitarian dungarees that look like a cuddlier take on Jaz Coleman’s boiler suits, but they’re straight into the bleak stuff with a double-whammy of darkness from No-One Can Ever Know with ‘Kill it in the Morning’ and ‘Dead City’, during which the vocal cut out suddenly. Joking that it sounded fucking brilliant in his in-ear monitors and that it was the best he’d ever sung it, they restart once the hitch is fixed – pretty swiftly, credit to the sound engineer – and blast it hard.

The Twilight Sad

It’s not the last track from their third album, either, with a magnificently taut rendition of ‘Another Bed’ landing mid-set. Nobody Wants to be Here and Nobody wants to Leave is represented by perhaps the most obvious choices; ‘There’s a Girl in the Corner’ and ‘Last January’, both of which are achingly magnificent, and ‘It Never Was the Same’, which, when followed by ‘The Arbour’ makes for something of a lull two-thirds through. But you can’t exactly blame them for taking things down a notch when the pace and emotional intensity are at such a pitch for the majority of the set, especially when they pile back in with a quit unexpected outing for ‘The Wrong Car’.

James isn’t especially chatty, but is sharp and focused and on strong form, and when he does talk, he gushes about his appreciation of the venue and audience, and responds to a heckler with “This one’s for you. It’s about a cunt”, before they launch into ‘That Summer, at Home I Had Become the Invisible Boy’, and it’s a song that never gets tired.

The Twilight Sad

‘[10 Good Reasons for Modern Drugs]’ and ‘I/m Not Here [Missing Face]’ are both delivered with precision and passion, while the cover of Frightened Rabbit’s ‘Keep Yourself Warm’ which has become a solid set future brought the house down. Four years on from the death of Scott Hutchison, it may not be as raw, but it’s every bit as relevant, and they’re keeping the spirit alive, while at the same time providing an essential reminder of the importance of mental health awareness.

Rabbits remain a theme, and you know it’s the end of the set when the jangling feedback and loping drums that mark the intro of ‘And She Would Darken the Memory’ start. The attempt at optimism with the lyrical shift to ‘head up, dear, the rabbit won’t die’ does nothing to diminish the song’s impact: we all know it still might, as we’re transported to another plane in a swirling wall of sound that reminds us of where it all started: almost twenty years and five albums in, they’ve still got the passion and intensity that made them stand out as special, and the fact they never give less and one hundred percent to any performance – there are truly no half-measures – is precisely why they may be very much a cult act, but one with the most ardent and devoted fanbase going. They deserve it.

It’s sweltering, and we know there’s no encore: there is nowhere to go from here. It’s a clear pinnacle, and we’re all spent, band and audience alike. The catharsis is complete.

Emma Ruth Rundle / Jo Quail – The Brudenell Social Club, Leeds, 12th August 2022

Posted: 13 August 2022 in Live
Tags: 12th August 2022, Acoustic, Cello, Emma Ruth Rundle, Engine of Hell, Intense, Intimate, Jo Quail, Leeds, Live Review, Piano, seated, The Brudenell Social Club

Christopher Nosnibor

It’s strange but quite welcome to be seated. It’s been a while, after all, but: rather than serving as a reminder of those awkward inter-lockdown seated gigs from this time two years ago, it’s another example of The Brudenell doing a great job – the sold-out show has nicely-spaced rows and ‘capacity’ is fifty per cent of the norm, and the aircon makes for a comfortable environment compared to the thirty-degree heat outside – in which to watch two remarkably accomplished artists perform intimate sets.

On arrival onstage, Jo Quail announces that she’s made a late adjustment to her set – which proves to be completely different from the previous night’s – and opens with the sparse, brooding ‘Vigil’, which is almost folksy in its dark, mournful feel. The lighting, too is sparse, a handful of red and white spots provide limited illumination.

Jo seems relaxed and is chatty between pieces, and the low-key setting suits her set, and her ability to build layers of sound to immense cathedrals with crushing chords is breathtaking. ‘Between Two Waves’ is spectacular, and the four-piece set closes with ‘Mandrel Cantus’. She’s taking a gamble and forewarns that there will be a ‘shredding guitar solo’ if she’s feeling brave enough. With thunderous percussion, booming bass, weeping strings – all wrung from the cello – it’s a climactic finale that builds dramatically to conclude an exhilarating set – one that feels a little less full-on, but every bit as affecting as her more ‘rock’ sounding shows.

“My name is Emma and I’m going to play some music for you”. It’s a humble introduction before she says she’s going to play her new album, Engine of Hell, which is what she then does.

The album marked something of a departure, and emerged from a period of quiet reflection and detox, and being an intimate work, it was fitting that the attendant tour recreated that intimacy. The lighting is even more stark, more low-key, and she sings and plays quietly almost as if to herself, but the hush, combined with the mic placement and amplification mean you can hear her breathe, the stage and piano stool creak.

In many respects, Emma seems younger than her 38 years: she’s reserved, nervous-seeming despite her experience. But some artists simply never fully take to the stage.

She has a remarkable voice, varied, emotionally rich. She’s not so much of a talker, but a sense of self-effacing humour shines through nevertheless, as she announces the lugubrious acoustic song ‘The Company’ as “another uplifting song” She also reminisces about previous visits as far back as 2008 with Red Sparowes and the last time she toured with Jo, which saw the pair of them play the ‘other room’ at The Brudenell – which was, I can vouch, outstanding. Ah, 2019, with the tempestuous force of Dystopian Future Movies opening. It feels like a lifetime ago.

Jo joins Emma on stage for ‘Citadel’ and their chemistry is immediately apparent before a note is played – they chatter and Emma seems immediately more at ease on an evening she often complains of feeling a bit strange. It’s not quite clear exactly where her head is at, but then, we don’t need to know. Some nights, something just happens. But she plays on, and plays beautifully.

Having established that the encore is dead (and she’s right: it’s a construct so false it’s wince-worthy. Play all the songs or don’t), she plays just one further song from her back catalogue without leaving the stage "so we can all get up and go outside together". It’s a spellbinding rendition of ‘Marked for Death’, and she exists the stage almost hesitantly after exactly an hour.

With a performance this emotionally abrim, it’s the perfect set length, and even if I didn’t have a train to catch, the 10:30 finish is welcome. Less is definitely more, but especially with music this intense.

Mclusky / Beige Palace – The Brudenell Social Club, Leeds, 8th April 2022

Posted: 9 April 2022 in Live
Tags: 20th Anniversary tour, angular, Beige Palace, Future of the Left, Leeds, Live Review, McLusky, Mclusky Do Dallas, noisy, The Brudenell Social Club

Christopher Nosnibor

During their comparatively brief career, which spanned the years 1999 to 2004, Mclusky released three albums and achieved a cult following, and that was kind of that, with Andrew Falkous going on to form Future of the Left who would achieve and similar cult status. But the thing about cult bands is that their reputation has a habit of developing posthumously, and while the musical differences between FOTL and Mclusky are, in real terms, quite scant – shouty, noisy, post-hardcore – the nostalgia for Mclusky – often harboured by those who never got to see them the first time around – has become pretty fervent over the years.

A large part of the appeal of both Mclusky and Future of the Left is their not giving a fuck for convention, and this tour is a perfect case in point, as they commemorate the twentieth anniversary of their second album. There’s not only no anniversary reissue, but it’s long deleted and hard to come by second hand an expensive when it does turn up. This, and the reformed lineup features neither of the two bassists who played with the band the first time around, so it’s two-thirds of Mclusky playing most of the second album. Meh, these are just details, it’s been sold out for weeks now and the buzz beforehand is palpable.

Helping to build that buzz are Beige palace, who are an ideal choice of support, with their skewed, angular tunes and offbeat banter. That synth / organ bass grinds hard, seriously, and they may play some bum notes but no-one notices, or much less cares. The quirky trio are a strong advert for the Leeds DIY scene. In fact, having emerged from the community that evolved around CHUNK and the Brudenell itself, it’s a source of pride that they’ve scored slots like this and with Shellac a couple of years ago, because theirs is THE sound of Leeds, and they’re very much equal to the high-profile bands they’ve supported. Doing your own thing and not trying to be cool counts for a lot.

Beige Palace

It’s certainly served Falkous and co well over the course of an enviable career, and has drawn a sellout crowd tonight. While commemorating the anniversary of Mclusky Do Dallas, this isn’t one of those sets where they play the album through from beginning to end, and instead they open with ‘Fuck this Band’. It makes for a fitting start to a set where they openly complain about some of the songs being shit, and how they don’t enjoy playing several others. But they play them all with guts and gusto, although ‘Light Sabre Cocksucking Blues’ is tossed off as the second song, as if they’re keen to get it out of the way and get on with the rest of the show. Any other band would have saved it for the encore, Mclusky don’t piss about with an encore either, instead sweltering their way through an hour and a quarter of back-to-back guitar-driven tunage. It’s testament to the strength of their other material that everything subsequent doesn’t feel like an anticlimax.

Mclusky

Damien Sayell is an immense presence who bounces and lumbers relentlessly: he’s big and burly and he doesn’t just play notes or chords, he tears chunks of bass noise from the wood with his fists, like a bear in a frenzy. Falkous squares up to the mic and spits lyrics at a hundred miles an hour while sweat spurts from every pore in his face, the sinews in his neck standing out like ropes, and they never let up for more than a minute between songs, keeping the banter and tuning to a minimum: many of the calls from the crowd are shut down pretty succinctly, and they seem keen not to disrupt the flow.

Mclusky

That flow is shown the appreciation is deserves with some hefty moshing in the middle that extends a fair way back into the room.

And then, wrapping up a twenty-song set that features all bar one song from Do Dallas, they sign off with a raging rendition of ‘To Hell with Good Intentions’, they’re gone. Still punk, still not giving a fuck, Mclusky still know how to kick ass.

Nordic Giants / Årabrot – The Brudenell Social Club, Leeds, 21st February 2022

Posted: 22 February 2022 in Live
Tags: Art, Årabrot, Drama, enigmatic, instrumental, Intense, Leeds, Live Review, Nordic Giants, Post Rock, The Brudenell Social Club

Christopher Nosnibor

If ever I needed a reminder of just how badly live music – and life in general – was affected by the successive lockdowns and restrictions over the last couple of years (and I really didn’t), then the realisation that my last live music at The Brudenell was Shellac in December 2019 brings in home with a thump.

The car park’s now pay and display and there are more tables outside than I remember, but otherwise, it’s a relief to discover that not much has changed. There are new toilets, meaning fresh toles and no stickers on the wall. The bars are behind Perspex. But it’s the same venue, the same vibe, and the beer is still astonishingly cheap. I soon run into some familiar faces, and it’s like I’ve never been away.

There’s a tangible air of anticipation for tonight’s show, and it’s heightened by the chewy taste of thick smoke shrouding the state. The taste and smell takes me back to early 90s goth gigs, and it’s something I’ve missed. Did they change the formula of the fluid? Or maybe most bands simply don’t use this much smoke. It’s certainly pretty smoggy in the build up to the start of the show, and Årabrot certainly aren’t any run-off-the-mill support act. With a substantial back catalogue, they’ve no shortage of fans in the house, but that’s not all: there’s simply nothing ordinary or run-of-the mill about any aspect of this band.

Årabrot

Samples herald their arrival onstage before they launch into an intense set built around minimal arrangements honed to yield maximum noise, and they rock out hard. Their Frontier schtick image is at odds with grungy noise rock sound, but they’ve got range and even slip into more Bowie-influenced glam. They’re not just tight but exhilarating. The vocal harmonies are strong throughout a set that draws heavily on their last album, the rabid Who Do You Love, from which ‘Maldoror’s Love’ drops early in the set. They dispense rollicking riffs throughout, interspersed with the trappings of evangelism, nevermore pronounced on the frothing howl of ‘Sinnerman’.

It’s a proper pea-souper that’s billowing through the venue for Nordic Giants’ arrival after a seriously fist-pumping 80s soundtrack over the PA. It’s so, so incongruous that it’s absolutely perfect. For the majority of the set, which showcases substantial portions of their new album, Symbiosis, released just last month, they’re practically invisible behind the smoke and strobes, and then there are the extravagant visuals. In their feathered headdresses, the duo are merely shadows on either side of the stage and positioned right at the back for the first song, and only venture forward occasionally when switching instruments. The drums are switched for bowed guitar, and there’s suddenly brass in the mix, too, and it’s powerful. These guys get drama and tension and infuse every moment of the set with both.

Nordic Giants

They must spend as long devising and sequencing the visuals and performance aspect as rehearsing the songs, and there is a lot going on. Rolling piano, all live keyboards, strobes and exploding heads, it’s so much to take in. Immersive is an understatement: the experience borders on the bewildering, but in a good way: everything sits together, and it feels incredibly co-ordinated and immaculately choreographed.

I tend to watch gigs from right down the front, because I want to connect with the energy and immediacy of the stage, to be as close to the action as possible, but sometimes, panning back reveals other aspects, and The Brudenell is one of those venues that means wherever you are, you’re always in the room. From further back, it looked and sounded even more spectacular, the band even more invisible as the smoke and strobes exploded at the climax of a stellar performance.

Shellac / Beige Palace – The Brudenell Social Club, Leeds, 13th December 2019

Posted: 15 December 2019 in Live
Tags: angular, Beige Palace, Bob Weston, Leeds, Live Review, math rock, Noise, Shellac, Steve Albini, The Brudenell Social Club, Todd Trainer

Christopher Nosnibor

I arrived at University in York in September 1994 with around £700 of savings. Even then, it wasn’t a lot, and I blew the majority of it on vinyl in my first term. A friend back home wrote to me (yes, we had to wrote letters then) with some recommendations, and the list included the newly-released Shellac debut album. It’s one of the few albums I’ve had to buy a second time not because of a reissue with bonus tracks or a remastering, but because I managed to wear it so hard.

I remember walking into the record shop near work and spotting it behind the counter. I said ‘New Shellac album?’ and the woman behind the counter asked if I wanted the vinyl or CD. Obviously, I said vinyl, and she beamed and said the CD came with the vinyl anyway. I was overdrawn, and went another £11.99 overdrawn, but it was still a bargain.

These albums have been significant features in the soundtrack of my adult life, and I consider Steve Albini and Shellac as a band are inspirational in many respects. If you want to know how to operate as a band – a vinyl-selling band – in the 21st century, they’ve got the operating model nailed: build your own kit, load and unload your own gear, concentrate on technique and sound over anything showy. Work the band around the day-jobs. Keep everything that can be kept in-house in-house: it’s paying everyone else to do stuff that renders most bands ultimately unviable. Oh, and no guest-list.

And the state of their gear is something: Steve and Bob’s guitars aren’t only worn to the wood but have massive gouges out of them, and Todd’s snare is edged with rust. They travel with a surprisingly compact backline, too, especially considering the colossal racket they kick out.

Anyway: it’s the night after half the population experienced a devastating blow to everything they believe in as fridge-hiding racist posho Boris Johnson led the Conservatives to an overwhelming majority in the election that put paid to any hope of remaining in the EU, of keeping the NHS intact, or restoring any sense of humanity to daily existence in an increasingly harsh world. It means ‘m not alone in seeing tonight as a source of solace: what better way to forget the world for a bit that with some mighty musical immersion in the best venue on the planet? The Brudenell always feels like home, and the fact Shellac keep coming back whenever they visit our sorry shores speaks volumes.

Having opened for Shellac on this UK tour, tonight sees Beige Palace back in front of a home crowd. It’s probably something of a relief following the mixed reception they’ve had. If the on-line criticism has bothered them, they’re not letting on, and good on them: they’re not instantly accessible or easy on the ear, and that’s every reason to like them, and also every reason why they’re a good fit on tonight’s bill.

Beige Palace

There’s also a certain personal pride here: having been present at their first performance back in 2016, I reported that ‘Beige Palace make sparse-sounding music that’s jarring, dissonant and hints at a clash between early Pram and No Wave angularity.’ They still do, only now, instead of playing to 25 people in a poky DIY venue on an industrial estate, they’re supporting Shellac in front of a good 300 people.

Shellac don’t piss about, and crash straight in with the thunderous rhythm section and scratchy guitars, and while they may not play any of the fan favourites (At Action Park is represented solely by ‘A Minute’ and ‘Squirrel Song’, which gets an early airing is the only song from 1000 Hurts, meaning no ‘Prayer to God’ or ‘My Black Ass’ or ‘The Admiral’), they nevertheless deliver a set that slays from beginning to end, with ‘Dude Incredible’ and ‘Wingwalker’ (with an extended narrative forming the mid-section) being obvious back-catalogue standouts. It almost goes without saying that they’re as tight as fuck, loud as fuck, and an absolute joy to watch – and the chat, when it happens, is sharp, witty and entertaining.

Shellac

‘Scrappers’, delivered alongside a long, rambling introduction that becomes the first of the evening’s interactive sessions, is one of a handful of new songs and again presents all of the best elements of the trio’s work in distilled form: a thunking, repetitive rhythm section and nagging stop/start guitar that bursts into sharding noise, and if it, ‘The Girl From Outside’ and ‘The World Series of Dick Sucking’ are representative, the next album will be an absolute blinder.

Shellac

Of course there’s no encore, and Bob Weston is plugging the new orange T-shirts he’ll be flogging from the boxes on stage next to his amp while Steve packs up afterwards. And that’s cool: encores are fake and half the time are about ego rather than anything. Yes, we want more, and we’ll always want mote. And that’s why we’ll be back next time.

Black Moth / Venus / Sky Valley Mistress – The Brudenell Social Club, Leeds, 6th December 2019

Posted: 8 December 2019 in Live
Tags: Black Moth, Farewell, final shows, Hard Rock, Leeds, Live Review, Sky Valley Mistress, The Brudenell Social Club, Venus

Christopher Nosnibor

Tonight was always going to combine celebration and commiseration: in the decade since their inception, Black Moth have gone from Leeds-scene hard rock revivalists to a stoner / doom colossus of an outfit at the forefront of an albeit disparate movement, with fans spread internationally.

I first caught the band at the Cockpit, playing early doors at Live at Leeds, around the time of their 2012 debut The Killing Jar. Back then , they were solid, with clear potential, but were still in development as alive act. That would change quickly, and that potential was rapidly realised, with the band landing support slots with ever-bigger headliners and the albums growing heavier and denser along the way. I felt a certain pride seeing them more than hold their own supporting The Sisters of Mercy in 2015. This was a band in bloom, a band with immense confidence and tunes to match, a band capable of conquering the world.

And they fucking should have. But, life. Harriet’s frank interview with Kerrang! on the eve of their two farewell shows puts the bands end down to life – the reality of operating a band when the members are split between two cities, and of working rehearsals and tours around day-jobs and the responsibilities of adult life. It was her call, and not one she’s taken lightly. But the fact of the matter is- as I’ve said before – if you’re not Ed Sheeran or Coldplay or whoever, you’re not going to make a wage off making music or anything creative.

You can only go on international tours on annual leave for so long. Employers will only cut you so much slack, however much of a cult following you may have. And so Black Moth’s curtain call is for perhaps the most depressing of reasons: the economics of late capitalism.

But on a more positive note, they’ve pretty much packed out the Brudenell, and have a brace of belting supports in tow – local acts who prove for any doubters that women can rock as hard as any men. Kudos to the Moth for the choice, and mega thumbs up to a brace of killer support acts.

The first, Sky Valley Mistress are strong, cranking out no-messing hard rock.

“As soon as I’ve got this hair out of my mouth, I’ll start singing.” You couldn’t call Kayley “Hell Kitten” Davies pretentious. She’s a commanding performer, confident and cool with the between song chat. It’s rare. big hair, big voice, big presence, big riffs, big tunes. But what decade is it? The drummer’s been teleported from the 70s and the guitarist is double white denim. These are visual distractions from a solid set packed with songs that are meaty and strong on groove.

Sky Valley Mistress

All-female quintet Venus pile in with a more shoegaze / indie sound driven by throbbing bass and sturdy percussion. Simultaneously crisp and dense, they chuck out choppy, short songs. And fuck, are they solid. They talk mental health, they rock hard. This is a band who get behind their beliefs and aren’t afraid to address issues and use their medium as a platform. They’re also as good as any band you’ll see around.

Venus

And Black Moth – well, they’re pure quality on every level. Detailed guitar contrasts with slugging power chords as they open with ‘Istra’, the first song from their final album, Anatomical Venus, an album that brought them to a wider audience and also served as their definitive statement. I guess if you’re going to call time on a band, it’s best to do it after your strongest album.

Everything about Black Moth that appealed at the beginning remains true, although the confidence they show in their performances now is as immense as the riffs. That isn’t to say Harriet’s turned into some egotistical rock-star type: she’s as down to earth as ever, and still air guitars her way through the breaks, and it’s clear they absolutely love doing what they do. Same as it ever was.

Black Moth

Tonight’s career-spanning at is delivered at appropriate volume. Proper headbanging down the front and halfway to the back. There’s a lot of love for this band. When they go heavy, they go HEAVY. The balloons are out for ‘Loomer’, and we’re reminded of the band’s February 2018 show in the same venue following the single’s release that prefaced the album. The atmosphere that night was jubilant, and while it may be something of a black celebration on this occasion, there’s still an overriding sense of enjoyment, and a rapport between band and audience that’s a source of joy.

Burst of metal confetti for closer and whole venue lunges and lurches exuberantly as the band power through a final encore of ‘Pigman’ and ‘Blackbird’s Fall’.

Black Moth’s departure is a sad one, but they’ve signed off on a high, bowing out at the absolute peak of their game. Respect.

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