Posts Tagged ‘The Crescent’

The Ruts DC – The Crescent, York, 7th December 2025

Posted: 10 December 2025 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

The Ruts always stood out amongst the class of ’77 for being that bit different. Sure, early singles ‘In a Rut’ and ‘Staring at the Rude Boys’ were quintessential rabble-rousers, although clearly more sophisticated than the standard meat ‘n’ potatoes pub rock turned up loud kicked out by many of their peers, and on their debut album, The Crack (1979), classic punk bangers like ‘Babylon’s Burning’ sat alongside straight-up dub tunes like ‘Jah War’ and moody cuts like ‘It Was Cold’ which were closer to post-punk than punk. Commercially, they’re nowhere near The Sex Pistols and numerous others, and never were, despite ‘Babylon’s Burning’ going top ten in the UK, but that’s likely because they were never as packaged and required that bit more work to fully appreciate.

What’s even more remarkable is that since reforming in 2007, they’ve expanded their recorded catalogue significantly, with the second exploratory dub Rhythm Collision album, the fiery, rockier Music Must Destroy, and, most recently, Counterculture?. They’ve remained attuned to current affairs and done so without falling into that common pitfall of old folks trying to be relevant. But then, this is a band who were staunchly anti-racist and anti-nazi from their very birth, even if not necessarily in the songs themselves – and where we find ourselves now means that their stance is as relevant now as it ever was.

Another thing is that while they tour frequently, they keep things varied: the last time they played York, they were touring Electracoustic Volume One – a collection of not-quite acoustic reworkings of songs from their back catalogue. It was a fairly sedate performance, with Segs and Leigh Heggarty seated, as they played two sets, the second more electra- than acoustic, the songs interspersed with some moderately lengthy anecdotes. It felt fitting for a band who had – shall we say – accumulated some years, forty-five years on from the release of that seminal debut.

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Tonight is a very different proposition, and with a very different set-list. For a start, it’s fully electric, and while the obvious songs that simply have to feature in every set are present and correct, there’s a substantial portion of the set devoted to newer material – ‘Psychic Attack’ is a standout – and even a brand new, unreleased song, ‘Bound in Blood’. As a consequence, there’s no ‘H-Eyes’ or ‘This Music Must Destroy’ – but we’re rewarded with rarely-performed deep cuts like ‘Backbiter’ and other classics such as ‘Love in Vain’ instead.

I did feel a niggle of concern when Ruffy shuffled onstage with a stuck and looked awkward getting himself positioned on his stool, but once in place, he was at ease, and his drumming was nothing short of magnificent. An old hand, for sure, he’s laid back and knows his kit like the back of his hand.

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There’s significantly less chat this time, too. Ruffy does briefly reminisce about his childhood before the encore – having been born in York, it’s clear he still feels an affinity and affection for the city, and while The Crescent is a top venue that always brings them a voluminous and enthusiastic turnout, one can’t help but wonder if this is also a factor in their tour booking. But less chat equals more focus on packing in the songs, and they play every last one with total commitment. The musicianship is outstanding throughout, again serving as a reminder that The Ruts could always play – I mean really play: not in a wanky way, but the detail to the guitar parts, the basslines, is remarkable, and they’re so, so tight: it’s no overstatement to say you won’t see a better live act. They pack ‘In a Rut’ (still without any debate, one of the best punk tunes ever), ‘Jah War’ and ‘Babylon’s Burning’ Rut’ (also, still without any debate, one of the best punk tunes ever) into the back-end of the set, and after starting the encore with the comparatively gentle ‘Pretty Lunatics’, wind up with a rip-roaring rendition of ‘Staring at the Rude Boys’.

This is one of those shows which is pure quality, and thoroughly uplifting, energising. Yes, they played the hits, but this was more than some nostalgia trip. This was a night seeing a band as good as they’ve ever been. As the lights went up, there was a palpable buzz about the venue. They’ve still got it, alright, and they still matter. Never surrender!

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The Birthday Massacre / Lesbian Bed Death / Diamond Black – The Crescent, York, 29th October 2025

Posted: 31 October 2025 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

Last time The Birthday Massacre played York, three years ago, it was at the 150-capacity Fulford Arms. It was sold out. This time around, they’re at the 350-capacity Crescent. They’ve sold that out, too. Despite having been around since just before the turn of the millennium, The Birthday Massacre are very much a band on the up. It’s an unusual trajectory: more often than not, acts explode early on, perhaps building over the course of the second and third album, or the first five years, and then plateau, having established their fanbase. It’s true that they’re a great live act, and that their latest long-player, Pathways, is a cracker, but something has clearly happened here that goes beyond the surface of these raw facts.

One thing that’s apparent is that there are people here for all of the acts – people who are keen, too: within five minutes of the doors opening, the front two rows are packed solid and people aren’t budging. From experience, this does seem to be something of a goth gig thing: the level of dedication and devotion is way up there. But the demographic is a broad mix, and it does seem that for all the hardcore fans, there are a lot of casuals in tonight. Quite how they’ve come by The Birthday Massacre is hard to tell, but given how crisp and poppy Pathways sounds in contrast to the full-throttle industrial drive of the live show, the chances are a fair few of them will be in for a shock.

I’ve seen Ben Christo play many times… But this is my first time seeing Diamond Black. Although Diamond Black are his band, the heavy touring schedule of his dayjob work as lead guitarist with The Sisters of Mercy mean they don’t get out quite as much. They’re on ridiculously early – tickets and some event posting suggest it’s doors at 7:30 rather than the first band, but they play to a pretty packed house. I’m dubious about the platform centre stage which serves the purpose of providing ben a place to stand and throw poses, but he’s not particularly tall. More significantly, for all the 80-s rock stylings (think Mr Mister but with bigger guitars and thunderous bass) all the calls of ‘Hello York!’ and so on, it’s hard not to like them. Ben is clearly a straight-up nice guy and he loves doing what he does, and they’re big on positive messaging and facing up to mental health issues in an uplifting way. ‘Dark Anthems’ from the new EP is gothiest cut of the set, the verse’s guitar line worthy of the Sisters, before breaking into a chorus that’s pure anthemic pop. They’re likeable and fun, and sound great… what more do you need, really?

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Diamond Black

Lesbian Bed Death win for attention-grabbing name. They go all out on the stage set, too, with banners, mannequins, and a mic stand that’s composed of a strange animal skull atop a curved spine. In contrast with Diamond Black – and The Birthday Massacre – they’re darker, heavier, more metal, and they bring a more theatrical and punk style to the night. The name is a strong one, and works with a collective of predominantly female musicians… but it wasn’t always thus, and the band’s mastermind is the stumpy bearded guy in a Misfits T, and with a hat and a beer belly who goes by the name of Mr Peach. For reasons I’m unable to fully articulate, I’m always suspicious of men with beards trimmed so neatly at the neck. And having whipped out ‘the coolest’ guitar for the last song, it sounds like ass, and he switches back to his other guitar after just a few bars. But, objectively, with a set bursting with churning, slicing riffs, and gutsy, full-lunged vocals, their performance is solid quality and great entertainment.

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Lesbian Bed Death

As for The Birthday Massacre… Woah. They sound phenomenal. Studio quality. But real at the same time. With six bodies packed on stage they need to be co-ordinated, and they are – tight beyond tight. If the energy was electric on their last visit, they’ve unlocked a whole new level of intensity now. Midway through the set, they’re all dripping, hair lank and stringy, but they don’t let up for a second. There are no ballads for a breather, and the audience feed off the band’s energy who feed off the crowd who feed off the band… you get the idea.

Sara ‘Chibi’ Taylor may be compact, but she’s one hell of a presence, but at the same time, a friendly one: she hands out water after fanning a distressed fan on the front row and beams throughout the set like she’s won the lottery. And it’s clear that it’s not just her who’s enjoying herself: the whole band radiates an aura of pleasure as they crank out a dense industrial chug. Sweeping synths fill out the sound, as Owen Mackinder lurches around his keyboards and wields his keytar with an infectious exuberance. Amidst the strobes, this is a band with bounce. They start a clap-along with ‘Destroyer’, and it’s a powerhouse blast from beginning to end.

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The Birthday Massacre

It’s true that in the scheme of things, and by the marks of the genre, The Birthday Massacre are something of a NIN-lite pop band, but they’ve created their niche and nail it, and what’s more, it’s clear they’re enjoying themselves as mush as we are. The drumming on ‘Crush’ is immense, and the song builds to a euphoric climax.

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The Birthday Massacre

This time, they do play an encore, and keep the fans baying for more. But when did ‘one more song’ become a chant? If you want more, surely you really want MORE! (this doesn’t work so well at gigs by The Sister of Mercy, who never play anything on demand), but fortunately for us, The Birthday Massacre deliver not one, but three more songs. The reaction is incendiary and completely deserved. By the time they depart the stage, having dispatched twenty songs with explosive energy, it’s clear we’ve witnessed something special, a band at the very top of their game.

Spear of Destiny – The Crescent, York, 17th October 2025

Posted: 19 October 2025 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

For many so-called ‘heritage bands’, the gig circuit can be trail of diminishing returns – then again, for others, the gigs are bigger now than in their heyday. Nostalgia is a powerful market, but one that often tapers off as the fanbase ages. Our older population may be expanding, but that doesn’t mean they’re all up for gig-going in their retirement years. Spear of Destiny sit in the middle of this range: they’re not playing the 1,500-2,000 capacity venues of some of their peers, but they’re packing out smaller venues, such as this one, often. You have to wonder if Kirk Brandon can even remember what his home looks like given his intense touring schedule, if not with Spear of Destiny, then, more recently, with the resurrected Theatre of Hate. They only finished their Janus tour in June, and here, they are, back on the road after barely time to do the laundry and restock the merch. The frequency of visits to destinations with smaller demographics does nothing to diminish the attendance, either: the fanbase is hardcore, and they do seem to be drawing younger people in, too, as interest in the bands kids’ parents listened to appears to be on the rise. I’m not going to claim that the 80s and 90s were better than now for music – not least of all because I don’t believe that’s the case, despite it being harder to find stuff now if you want to escape the algorithmic force-feed – but there was something about those times that’s lacking now, and it’s not just innovation. Politics and protest seemingly had a more central place then, too: in recent years have

It was only last September that Theatre of Hate stopped by this very same venue, and the Spring of 2023 that Spear of Destiny trod these same boards – and yet tonight, perhaps because it’s a Friday – the place is packed, perhaps more so than on the last two visits.

Immediately they dispel that whole ‘heritage band’ thing by opening a solid set with a slew of newer material, delivered with vigour. It’s also very much a set for the more devoted fans: popular songs and hits like ‘So in Love with You’, ‘Tinseltown’, and ‘Young Men’ are bypassed in favour of a set that works its way through recent tunes and deeper cuts, and only really goes all out on the big popular choices in the second half. No-one’s complaining, though, and the band look to be enjoying themselves: at one point, Kurt exchanges grins and chat with bassist Craig. And I’m reminded – as a huge, huge Sisters of Mercy fan, but one too young to see them in their first era – that I’m standing maybe six feet away from the bass legend that is Craig Adams. The fact that The Mission were the first major-league band I saw, from what felt like a mile away, at Sheffield City Hall in 1990 is the context here.

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Kirk’s voice may not sound quite as strong as on his last visit, but the chap’s been poorly, and he’s still capable of belting out the tunes, and, soaring in all directions and, when it matters, leaping an octave in an instant and hitting all the high notes. And as a four-piece, while the absence of sax is notable particularly on some songs, they create a sound that’s dense, and as always, they play with precision tightness while maintaining a fluidity and a palpable energy. Everything else is in place, with a dominant rhythm section, from martial beats to thunderous tribal percussion, paired with Adam’s sturdy grooves.

Up front, there’s ‘Strangers in Our Town’, and ‘Never Take Me Alive’ lands early on, too. It’s easy for forget that this is a band who’ve released significantly more albums since their eighties heyday than during that time, and the set offers a fair balance of post-eighties material with a selection of songs from that commercially fruitful spell – and it’s worth noting that fan favourites aren’t necessarily the singles, but key album tracks. ‘Mickey’, for example, was only a single in The Netherlands, but is one of the highlights of World Service, and tonight’s set.

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Into the final leg, ‘Rainmaker’ really rouses the rabble, and ‘Radio Radio’ prompts a huge singalong before they depart the stage. The place erupts when the band come back on, and the encore launches with a spirited ‘Soldier Soldier’… and finished with ‘Liberator’ – because there is simply no other way to end a Spear of Destiny set. It brings the house down – every single time. More of the same next time, please.

A Gig for Gaza – The Crescent, York, 14th September 2025

Posted: 16 September 2025 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

I shouldn’t be here. This event shouldn’t be happening. No, I don’t mean there shouldn’t be a bunch of York acts performing a packed bill on a Sunday evening in front of around two hundred people, but the reason it’s happening, the circumstances meaning we need a gig for Gaza. It’s something I haven’t really written or commented on – not because I condone the genocide that’s been playing out over the last twenty-three months, but because the shock, the sheer horror of it all has resulted in some kind of paralysis. The fact that after almost two years, it’s not only ongoing, but the situation is worsening is almost beyond comprehension, and while our government hasn’t mentioned Israel’s ‘right to defend itself’ recently, it continues to supply arms to and meet with their government, and to deny both genocide and famine, preferring instead oversee the arrest hundreds of pensioners for holding placards stating their opposition to this. Since when did vandalism equal terrorism? The media still refer to the ‘war’ in Gaza, but this is not a war. It’s a decimation. It’s annihilation. It’s genocide.

It’s impossible at this point to reasonably stack a hierarchy of horror, to say ‘but what’s worse is…’, but the fact that Israel’s collapsing of buildings in Gaza city at barely any notice is only occasionally making footnotes in the news a measure of how appalling things have become. Meanwhile, the UK news is currently devoted to outpourings over the assassination of a pro-gun fascist hardly anyone had heard of until he was shot, plugging a pro-racist march arranged by jacked-up right-wing thug Stephen Yaxley-Lennon, and giving Nigel Farage so much more screen time than all of the other parties combined (who knew that The Green Party hold as many seats in Parliament as Reform, eh?), and Russia continue to pound Ukraine and extend their reach, and under the radar, Sudan is another hell on earth. Meanwhile, the world burns, and people are still in thrall to billionaires, chucking their cash at Daniel Ek to fund more war so they can stream mediocre slop while ordering some shit via Deliveroo and spending their evenings watching Love Island and shit instead of facing the fact that we’re actually entering World War 3 and the apocalypse is happening right here right now.

But here we are. I’ve written extensively about the therapeutic qualities of live music, and why grassroots venues are important., and tonight brings my entire thesis together perfectly. The Crescent Community Venue – as the name suggests – is about community. Not in the way those who have been zip-tying flags half-way up have been harping on about ‘uniting communities’ (the subtext being that they’re uniting against something – namely anything that isn’t white, straight, etc.), but in the truest sense. Everyone is welcome – just please don’t be a dick.

Tonight is the perfect representation of what community means. It’s not even really about the acts performing – although it’s a great lineup, curated by local promoter of the experimental, avant-garde, spoken word milieu, Navigator Arts, with the aid of the venue and local legend Joe Coates, who operates independently and via a regional network as Please Please You. These guys champion local acts and regional talent and live and breathe it, and the performers who’ve given their time for this event – I can only applaud them all, really.

What we have here, then, is a great lineup for a vital cause, in a great venue – I’ll say it again that The Crescent is York’s Brudenell: there are many parallels, and they’re all positive. And tonight is exemplary, because what we have here is a great lineup for a vital cause, with a brilliant vibe.

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Lara McClure

It’s an interesting mix of bands and interludes: spoken word artist Lara McClure stretches out a fantastical story over the course of the night, seamlessly – or otherwise – creating segues to the following acts, and a guy who operates under the moniker of Cast – clearly being too young to remember the 90s indie act – does some beatboxing before Knitting Circle take the stage, as a three-piece on this outing. My appreciation of Knitting Circle is strewn all over these pages. They’re a great band, and a perfect choice for this event. They’re proud and passionate lefties with a ‘don’t be a dick’ agenda of inclusivity, and songs like ‘Safe Routes’ aren’t only resonant but prove quite moving in the context of the event. They’re brilliant, as always, and I have to take a moment after their set.

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Knitting Circle

Captain Starlet are a band I’ve never really taken, to, but here’s their singer, Tom, playing a set that includes covers of songs by Love and The Incredible String Band with a Vox guitar, and her does so in a self-effacing manner. And he’s here, taking a stand against genocide and fascism, and so respect is due.

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Tom of Captain Starlet

Things take a turn when Fat Spatula hit the stage, and the volume takes a leap by at least ten per cent. The songs may be fairly mellow alt-rock in the main, but they are LOUD and played with masses of energy and enthusiasm, they’re kinetic (especially the rhythm section), electric. As a band, they seem a little uncertain of their abilities, despite the fact they’re rarely anything other than killer. But maybe that’s a part of their way of working. They put everything into their set and look to be really enjoying themselves. And it’s great.

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Fat Spatula

It takes me a while to get into Borgia, and my initial impression is of these purveyors of jazz punk is ‘jazz punk cunts in suits’ (which, I know, is a niche piece of self-referencing for the ten people familiar with my own ‘musical’ work, but, why not?). They’re decidedly more jazz than punk, and the shades are off after five minutes. But they present a pretty meaty racket with busy bass balanced by sturdy drumming and some wild parping sax. The theatrical enunciation and dramatic presentation is a bit over the top and only nearly as cool as they think, but all credit to them for putting on a performance. They’re seriously tight and go all-out to entertain.

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Borgia

The Bricks are on fire right now. Just eleven days previous they were up-close and personal in a pub on the other side of town, and looked to be relishing the intense proximity. Now, here they are in a 350-capacity venue and owning every inch of the stage. Gemma’s voice may be cracking and only just surviving with the aid of honey, but she still goes all out for the duration, and doesn’t miss a note. There aren’t many bands that seem as much at home playing large or small venues, and even fewer who bring their A-game every single time, but The Bricks are one of the few.

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The Bricks

While there were reminders of why we were here – and rightly so – tonight was as much about bringing people together and espousing true community spirit. The atmosphere was warm, genial, and safe, and in the current climate, riven with tension and hate, this felt like an oasis of nice, a much-needed balm to soothe the stress. And if you’re going to be proud of anything, be proud of local bands, local venues, be proud of generosity and kindness, not shitty flags.

The latest is that the event raised £1,500… and you can still donate… Please.

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

Posted: 19 July 2025 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

There was a time when there wasn’t really much doing in York, which was particularly disappointing for a city with two universities. But, despite grass roots venue disappearing at an alarming rate, right now, the city is offering up some exciting stuff on the grassroots scene. Tonight, there are three quality live music events on, and had I mastered cloning, I would have gone to all three. The Fulford Arms was serving up a night of top-notch goth and post-punk, while there was experimental and ambient work on offer at The Basement under the City Screen cinema. But I feel I made the right choice plumping for Needlework at The Crescent, not least of all because it transpired that this was to be their last show.

Needlework have only been around a couple of years, and only played a handful of shows, but they’ve made a serious impression, as tonight’s crowd shows. Sure, they’ve got plenty of their sixth-form / college mates down, but this is a band who had built a keen following in their own right. In a previous time, John Peel would have been all over them and they’d have achieved national cult status. Instead, because it’s 2025, they’re bowing out with only an EP (released today, but without mention) and a few shows to mark their existence. But I guess this is how it goes.

First up, it’s Speedreaders. They’re nothing if not consistent., and tonight’s set brings all of the things I’ve highlighted in my previous coverage. They’re tight, but slow and mellow. And this evening they’re slower than ever. After imparting his opinion on Fleetwood Mac being shite in a rare bit of between-song banter, singer David Mudie spent longer tuning his guitar for the next song than it actually took to play it. That’ll teach him to engage in conversation with the audience. My mate went to the bar and returned with two pints before he was done tuning. Still, when they’re back on track, they’re sounding good. It’s the harmonies which stand out in tonight’s clean, crisp set, with clear balanced sound.

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Speedreaders

Divorce Finance sound pretty much the same as they look…. meaning I can’t remember the last time I so wanted to punch a whole band. Actually, I lie: Sleuth Gang, who I witnessed in the same venue a few months ago emanated wankerdom from every pore. It must be something about bands who take their style cues from The Village People.

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Divorce Finance

It’s sort of tongue-in-cheek but not really rockabilly country hoedown hillbilly bollocks. There are people down the front getting down with some boisterous line-dancing moves, and there are plenty who are digging it, but I just can’t get on board with this is corny, gimmicky shit, and the fact they play it well doesn’t get them a pass. All the whooping and whelping is high-energy and perfectly executed, but… It’s just so much cheesy turd-polishing, and the singer’s smug, grinning, cheeky chappie, eye rolling delivery only makes everything so much worse. I found myself feeling not irritated, or annoyed, but – most unexpectedly – angry.

Needlework are simply something else, and what that something is is not easy to pin down. Their entire existence is constructed around a mass of contradictions and paradoxical premises, none of which are reconcilable or make any obvious sense – but this is precisely why they work, and why they exist in a league of their own. They’re really tight and together, but create the illusion of being lose, even a shade shambolic; front man Reuben Pugh is simultaneously intense and aloof. Each member of the band brings something different, stylistically, and in terms of personality – that goes for both their musical contributions and stage presence. Jagged, scratchy guitar work slices across rolling basslines, jittery drumming finds a counterpoint with soft, trilling woodwind and synths interwoven through the scenes as they unravel.

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Needlwork

They’re not really a ‘songs’ band in terms of conventional verse / chorus structures, either, instead exploring routes which take obtuse twists and turns, and they’re unafraid to do slow, wonky, spoken wordy, abstract narrative. They understand dynamics, and the power of jarring angularity. It’s post-punk, it’s jazz, it’s experimental, and it’s utterly spellbinding. Needlework are one of those rare bands that seem to suck you into a parallel universe while they play. Time hangs in suspension and you find yourself on another plane, utterly gripped while wondering what they’ll do next. During the time they’re on stage, something transformative takes place: it’s more than simply five people on stage making music. Needlework conjure aural pure alchemy.

Pugh takes his shirt off to substantial applause, and a big fella in the front row responds by whipping his T-shirt off and lobbing it on stage after helicoptering it above his head a few times. He asks for it back a song or two later, and the band duly oblige.

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Needlework

The set builds to a perfect climax, a monumental whirl of sonic chaos which is electric. And then, that’s it. Finished. Done. They leave us stunned, dazed by the magic we’ve witnessed. They certainly concluded on a high, and one suspects that this is a band which will be remembered, and talked about, for years to come.

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

Posted: 4 July 2025 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

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

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

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

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

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

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Vision Video

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

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

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The March Violets

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

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The March Violets

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

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

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

Posted: 7 June 2025 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

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

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

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

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Speedreaders

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

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

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Shonen Knife

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

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Shonen Knife

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

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

Posted: 4 May 2025 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

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

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

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

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Oliver Marson

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

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

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IST IST

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

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IST IST

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

The Bastard Sons / This House We Built / Sleuth Gang / Straw Doll – The Crescent, York, 28 February 2025

Posted: 1 March 2025 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

Just under 5 years ago, I arrived at this venue feeling a sense of nervousness, as if the world was on a precipice, as we greeted one another with elbow bumps and the car staff were polyethene gloves and aprons. Practically hours later, we went into lockdown. There are no elbow bumps or PPE tonight, but having seen shit go south in the Oval Office of The Whitehouse on a day which will likely go down as a pivotal moment in world history while eating my dinner before heading out, I arrive with the same kind of creeping panic. As is often the case, I’m here for a spot of escapism, one of the most essential benefits of live music, and whether or not anyone else whose down tonight is experiencing the same kind of existential; fear, I suspect many are here for the same thing.

The Bastard Sons – that’s the York band, not to be confused with Phil Campbell’s post-Motörhead band, formed in 2015 – have been away for a long time. After much build-up, they released their debut album, Smoke in 2015, to no small acclaim from the likes of Kerrang. And then… a few local gigs and… Having finally got around to presenting a new single, they’ve been persuaded to tread the boards once more, heading a four-act lineup with an early start.

On promptly at 7:45, just fifteen minutes after doors, Straw Doll may be Metallica, but they’re equally Alice in Chains and Soundgarden, serving up a grunge metal hybrid, with debut single ‘Confess’ being exemplary, while ‘Denial’ leans somewhat on ‘Nothing Else Matters’. Although perhaps a shade predictable at times, with some chunky riffs they delivered a tight and solid set, which was all the more impressive for being their first live outing.

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Straw Doll

It seems hard to credit that I’ve witnessed acts who can be seen or claim to be channelling The Beastie Boys twice in a fortnight at rock gigs, but here we are, bracing ourselves for Sleuth Gang, York battle of the bands winners who promise ‘the harder edge of hip hop mashed with Beastie Boys, early punk, grime, and the experimental post-hardcore/electronicore of Enter Shikari.’ There’s a couple of bellends – one with a mullet – leaning all over the monitors and slopping their pints on the floor before they even start. Sure enough, they only seem to have about five fans, and said ‘fans’ are intent on barging one another so hard to see if they’ll stay up or career into the crowd outside the ‘pit’. The band keep calling the audience forward, but they end up stepping back to make room for their antics instead. The guitarist leaps off the stage, sinks half of mullet guy’s mate’s pint and then throws the rest of it over him. He wipes down his tracksuit top, smiling like he’s just been enunciated.

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Sleuth Gang

Their second song is a cover of The Prodigy’s ‘Omen’, and it’s the best song in the set by a mile. With their three MCs, it’s like watching Limp Bizkit fronted by a nu-metal version of the Village People… It takes a particular type of tosser to wear boot cut pleather jeans and a leather waistcoat, not to mention while chewing a toothpick. They spend half the set yelling for us to ‘Make some fucking noise’ ‘put your hands up’ and ‘let’s see your fucking energy’. Yeesh. My energy is at the bar.

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Sleuth Gang

This House We Built are older guys… The front man, who’s not especially tall, draws attention to the fact by having a little portable platform, a little like a low and unstylish occasional table, to the fore of his mic stand, and he rests a foot on it and sometimes stands on it to deliver widdy solos. He wants to see our fingers – horns, that is, not middle ones. It’s fairly standard hair rock, a bit Aerosmith, a bit Bon Jovi… the bassist reckons he’s in 80s ZZ Top. With his illuminated frets, metallic finish five-string bass and wraparound shades, he’s actually the coolest thing about the band.

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This House We Built

It’s been a long time since The Bastard Sons played – eight years, no less – and it’s apparent that they have been missed. Despite the time away, they’re finely honed as a live unit.

For the uninitiated, JJ’s vocals are perhaps the greatest obstacle in their rapid-cut screamo metalcore assault. Within the space of a single line, he’s gone from melodic to guttural via screaming. And he’s far too old to be showing so much boxer above beltline, surely. For the fans – and the venue, which is pretty packed, is massively into it – time has stood still, and that’s great, but the world itself has moved on.

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The Bastard Sons

“What the fuck is uuuuuup??” comes the shout from the stage. Well, you may well ask, Mr Bastard. The moshpit that broke out three songs in mostly appeared to consist of Sleuth Gang – hailed as ‘one of the best bands you’ll ever see’ by JJ – and their mates. The waistcoat guy’s now put on a tasselled leather jacket. There are fat middle aged blokes with shirts off, twirling them like helicopter blades over their heads, there’s play-wrestling, nosebleeds, and mums in PVC dresses losing their shit, and I almost forget the band and their woah-woah choruses. It’s rare to see quite such a conglomeration of cockends. But when all is said and done, for a band to come back after an eight-year absence and to grip a crowd so tightly and to attract such unbridled adulation, they have to have something, and there’s no questioning the fact that they bring the riffs and the energy – although there is a sense that while joshing about the (now slightly older) crowd being happy for the earlier, 10:45 finish, so are they, having run out of songs and energy after an hour. And that’s ok, especially as this looks like the start of an actual comeback.

The Lovely Eggs / Violet Malice / British Birds – The Crescent, York, 20th October 2024

Posted: 21 October 2024 in Live, Recommended Streams and Videos
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Christopher Nosnibor

The Lovely Eggs really are the best advert for the DIY ethos going. Here we are, in the 300-capacity Crescent in York, just over two years since their last visit, and whereas then – again, on a Sunday night – there were twenty-eight tickets left on the door, they’ve sold out well in advance this time. This is likely due in no small part to the release of the absolutely cracking Eggsistentialism earlier in the year, but equally their ever-growing reputation as a truly outstanding live act.

Track back to 2015, the first time I saw them: it was a part of the sadly gone and fondly-remembered Long Division festival in Wakefield. They weren’t a new band even then, and while they drew a respectable crowd, were just one of many punky indie bands on the circuit. Seven albums in, and having stood up to gouging from arena venues on merch from support acts and done quite literally everything themselves these intervening years, they’ve risen to prominence not only as a super band, but the definitive outsider band. And, as with last time around, we have a curated lineup with a fellow Lancashire band opening, a poetry / spoken word performer by way of an interlude, before their own set. Previously, we got Arch Femmesis and Thick Richard: this time, it’s British Birds opening, and Violet Malice providing the off-kilter spoken word.

Both are excellent. I was hugely enthused by the return of British Birds to York, having first seen them in this very venue supporting Pale Blue Eyes, and they did not disappoint. Their set is packed solid with hooks, harmonies, jangle… and tunes. A solid rhythm section and some twiddly vintage synth tones provide the base for two- and three-way vocal interplay. In the five months since their last visit, their sound seems to have grown meatier, more solid, and they’re tighter, more focused, and Emma Townson, centre stage on vocals, keyboard, tambourine, and cowbell is more nonchalant and less six bags of Skittles exuberant in her performance, but there’s a really great vibe about them on stage, and they feel like a cohesive unit, and one with great prospects if they maintain this trajectory.

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British Birds

Violet Malice is not from Lancashire, but Kent. It’s appropriate. It could almost be a typo or a mispronunciation. She belongs to the glorious lineage of snappy poets who are likely to go down better at a rock gig than your average spoken-word night which clearly has an arc from John Coopeer Clark forwards. She tells it like it is: and how it is is hilarious, but uncomfortable. I’m reminded of Manchester writer and spoken word performer Sue Fox, and the way an audience will lap up her visceral monologues about cocks and cunts, howling with mirth but breathless as they ask themselves ‘did she really just say that?’

‘Stop eating your own food and jizzing on about how good it is’, Violet intones in a blank monotone. Her best line comes in ‘Posh Cunt’ where she drop ‘enough cum to make 24 meringue nests’. It’s fair to say that if a guy had delivered the line, it would not have had the same impact, and this is but one measure of the ground which still needs to be made up. But Violet Malice is leading the charge – as, indeed, are The Lovely Eggs. What they’ve achieved with this lineup is strong female representation without being male-exclusionary: they’ve not gone on a Dream Nails kind of anti-male campaign (which is simply inverse sexism) and there’s no adopted policy of hauling single men off for interrogation by security, a la The Last Dinner Party in Lincoln. It’s as strongly feminist as it gets: no-one is alienated, and the demographic across both genders and ages is well-balanced.

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Violet Malice

My notes pretty much run out during The Lovely Eggs’ set, and I make no apology for this. When this happens, it means I’ve either overimbibed or am just so in the moment I forget, and tonight, it’s very much a case of the latter.

They’re straight in with ‘Death Grip Kids’, with the killer opening line ‘Shove your funding up your arse!’, of which I wrote elsewhere, ‘the song is a proper middle finger to the industry and the establishment, a manifesto which encapsulates the way they’ve rejected the mechanisms and payola of labels’. More than a song, it’s a manifesto, which sets the tone for their bursting-with-energy hour-long set.

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The Lovely Eggs

‘Magic Onion’ is a standout; ‘I am Gaia’ brings the obligatory mid-set slower tempo tune, ahead of leading a big old singalong with ‘Fuck It’, and the second half of the set is just incendiary. The packed room is united and uplifted and collectively uplifted. There’s no encore, no artifice, just pure, life-affirming entertainment: everything you could want from a gig. The Lovely Eggs really are the best.

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