Posts Tagged ‘The Fulford Arms’

Flowers for Sophie: Doberwoman / Tiny Forehead / Courtesan / Machiner / Social Youth Cult / Westenra – The Fulford Arms, York, 15th August 2026

Posted: 16 August 2026 in Previews and Editorial, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

Well, this certainly wasn’t the introduction I’d been plotting previously. And it’s almost certainly not the review anyone was expecting – least of all myself. But I started Aural Aggravation specifically to create a platform for more in-depth, essay-like pieces which ventured into topics around the music, rather than simply giving cut-and-dried star-rating reviews in a hundred and fifty words or fewer. Bucking the trend? That was essentially the point. And so here we are.

I’d had a great time. I’d seen some outstanding live music, and spent time with friends and acquaintances – and perfect strangers, and short dark ones – united in an appreciation of music and (sub)culture. I was walking home over the bridge less than ten minutes from my house – a busy spot at any time, even at night – in what’s generally considered the ‘nice’ end of York, holding a black plastic rose I’d been handed towards the end of the night, when suddenly my ear prick up: “carrying a rose an’ shit… is it an ‘ee?” Then, incredulously, “Yeah, it’s an ‘ee,”. A couple of drunk blokes are rasping loudly between themselves as they sit on the bridge in the dark. Yes, I’m an ‘ee. A fifty-year-old ‘ee, white, bald, and wearing a battered Stetson, just minding my own business. And yet, for some reason, they found it necessary to comment. Why?

In my head, I’m whispering ‘cunts, cunts, cunts’ to myself, but strangely enough, never once in all of my fifty years have I felt the need to pass comment, and certainly not to shout out some shit, at a random stranger. And yet, since the age of fifteen, when I ‘turned goth’, I’ve been subjected to street heckles – or, let’s call it what it is – verbal abuse by strangers for simply walking down the street. A lot of it comes in the form of unintelligible yells from passing white vans. The first I distinctly remember – perhaps being one of the first instances – was some bloke yelling out of a van, “St. John’s is that way!” I used to live just outside Lincoln, close to St John’s Hospital, which was at one time the largest mental institution in the country, before the Conservatives introduced ‘care in the community’ (a topic which is an essay in itself). I get a lot of people doing Michael Jackson impressions at me – because, y’know, he was a bald white bloke who wore a Stetson… ohhh. Of course. A hat and shades. I must be Michal fucking Jackson. Easy mistake to make.

But here are two things I feel I must note. The first is, that apart from the time some drunk female racegoers passed me making stage whispers of “It’s Pitbull!” (I wasn’t wearing my hat, and being a bald bloke in shades, hey, it must be Pitbull, because there are no other bald guys in shades in the summer), it’s always – ALWAYS – men. The second its that I simply cannot grasp the way people are seemingly incapable of having a thought without verbalising it, and at volume, even if not with the intention of intimidation or harassment. But seemingly the Catchphrase hook of ‘say what you see’ is a rule to live by for far too many boneheads.

Doberwoman, tonight’s first act, summarises this shit most succinctly, when she observes that prejudice is the product of fear (and perhaps self-hatred). Racism stems first and foremost from a fear which comes from a lack of understanding of other cultures. The most rabid homophobes seem to be mostly afraid of their own homosexual tendencies (take a moment to reflect on Andrew Tate’s absurd assertion that any man who sleeps with women is gay), and it’s clear that people who feel compelled to harass anyone who’s even vaguely alternative are likely scared because they simply can’t comprehend anything that isn’t their own tiny mainstream sphere, but more than that, they’re afraid because they see either an element of themselves, or the potential for them to become that thing, of crossing into that otherness.

Doberwoman, incidentally, is great, getting things going early doors (really early, as in 4pm early) with an energetic and entertaining set of lo-fi electropop with some strong feminist messaging. In a nutshell, she’s a one-woman Soft Cell. The vocals being up in the mix allows her powerful lyrics to be heard with clarity.

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Doberwoman

The strong messaging is a leading reason why we’re here, and it’s worth taking a moment to reflect on this, particularly in context of the experience I recounted of my walk home. I would say it didn’t bother me, since I’m largely immune to it after thirty-five years of it, and the grief I get is fairly low-level in the scheme of things. But of course, whatever my level of immunity, I did bother me. The guys griefing me will have forgotten they even saw me two minutes later. This isn’t about me, but then, in a way, it is. The Sophie Lancaster Foundation exists to educate on the importance of inclusivity, to stimulate conversations about prejudice, and to celebrate difference, and tonight’s event is a fundraiser for the foundation, which was founded after Sophie and her boyfriend were attacked by a gang of five boys in a park in 2007. Sophie lost her life as the result of this attack. The provocation? She dressed alternatively. Although Sophie was labelled a ‘goth’ by the media, this feels both misrepresentative, and reductive (and again, that’s probably another essay), but the thing I will say on this matter is that the goth subculture may have its fair share of posers and musical gatekeepers, but the general ethos of this broad subculture is to live and let live. You won’t find goths knifing one another or brawling in the streets – or at gigs.

Following Doberwoman is Tiny Forehead. Their set could be summarised as ‘started weird, and then the guitarist removed his leg’. They’re a Nottingham six-piece who are visually discombobulating. None of them look like they belong to the same band, and the front man is wearing a chequered full-face balaclava he can’t see out of, which means he has some struggles with the mic stand. And the lack of a face is something I find quite disconcerting – it’s mostly surreal, but also taps into something deeper and more fearful. But he disarms those fears with some affable banter and some spectacularly awful jokes, which he hoots away to, and meanwhile, they serve up some solid 80s alternative rock, and the dual vocals work an absolute treat. They’re by absolutely no means goth in the conventional sense, but they have some songs about vampires, and their entire vibe is very much a celebration of non-norminess. They bring some tidy grooves, too. ‘Keep Dialling’ is a bit All About Eve, only with some trancy synths spun into the mix, while ‘Pogos Wood’ is more uptempo dream pop, and it’s during this that the guitarist removes his artificial leg and hops around at the finale. Zany, unpredictable, and with some solid tunes, they’re a lot of fun.

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Courtesan are the first truly goth-sounding act of the night: their second song sounds very like Skeletal Family’s ‘She Cries Alone’ in the guitar parts in the verse, and this is very much the space they occupy musically – northern goth circa 83/4. The third song is called Incubus Succubus, introduced as a song about ‘ghosts that shag’. Ignore the backwards baseball caps on the drummer and the bassist (who looks a bit like Fred Durst): these guys are proper early goth. New song ‘Sister Crow’ has heavy hints of mid-80s Damned. They close with a cover of Nancy Boy. It’s a bit stodgy, but goes down a storm, and deservedly so.

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Courtesan

This show is well-timed for Machiner, who released their album just over a week ago. The last time I saw them, we were sharing a bill in a cemetery chapel in York, and while tonight’s venue may be less dramatic, their brand of sweeping shoegaze is no less captivating. The drum machine is a little quiet to begin with, as is singer Paul’s guitar, but the mix is soon sorted, and they’re in the zone. The melancholic ‘The Sound of Disappearing’ lands mid-set, which is a heady blend of neo-prog and post rock, with hints of Oceansize, and Vessels but with a vocals. The slow-burning album opener, ‘Silent Running’ arrives as the penultimate song of the set, where dripping synths and layered guitar drift together. They definitely won themselves some new fans tonight.

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Machiner

It’s here that my notes start getting briefer; we’re four bands and four pints in, and it’s getting warm. But more than this, Social Youth Cult are nothing short of mind-blowing, and I find I’m completely gripped. The singer channels Peter Murphy and Ian Curtis in equal measures. Wearing high-waisted boot-cut jeans and a brocade shirt, he’s as white as a sheet and thin as a lath. He’s got the looks and the moves as well as the voice. And hell, yes, he’s got the voice, with all the brooding, the drama, the dynamics. He brings the theatrical, art rock style, and he absolutely fucking owns it. Peter Hook style basslines boom out atop soaring guitar parts, which often switch to a more scratchy, textural approach. At the back, there’s a minimal kit, from which emanates heavy, tom-led drumming. ‘The Lighthouse’ comes with hints of ‘Dark Entries’ and explosive energy. These guys need to sort a double-header tour with Mouth Ulcers as the ultimate new goth showcase. They are an absolute must-see.

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Social Youth Cult

Westenra are playing their latest album, Burn Me Once, in its entirety for the first time. This is a bold move. But they’re a bold band, and the album, as I observed in my review, is well-paced and nicely balanced, and as such, flows well in a live setting. Opener ‘Ghosts in the Machine’ highlights the busy bassline and Luci leaps around and comes on like Siouxsie with dance moves. Bassist Dominique is an imposing presence, but with heels which are practically stilts, Luci really dominates the stage, her voice even stronger as her presence. And despite struggling for breath and sputtering between songs due to the smoke from the previous acts, she doesn’t miss a note, and remains as energetic while performing throughout. Guitarist Karl could be reasonably as a generic goth guitarist, being middle-aged and sporting a hat, but that would be to severely diminish his understated contribution here.

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Westenra

The slower ‘Hold Me Close’ is epic and operatic, so hardly offers the kind of respite the mid-set slowie bands regain their breath during. In fact, this is a set which keeps the energy and high throughout, and it’s without doubt that this is the reason they’ve made swift progress in establishing their place on the scene. ‘Stuck in a Cage’ gets its first live airing, and rocks solidly, before ‘Regret’ brings even heftier riffage and thick, low-end bass tones.

The main set and the (self-imposed) pressure of performing the album out of the way, they get to cut by loose opening encore with ‘Trinity’, and they close with their gothed-up take on Iron Maiden’s ‘The Number of the Beast’.

Not only was there not a duff band on the bill, but everything about this was magnificent – even the cheesy compering. The alternative scene is effervescent, and abrim with exciting new acts. And the hassle on way home notwithstanding, it was as close to perfect as a night gets.

Pop Goes Metal / Dismiss / Too Late for Gods – The Fulford Arms, York, 26th July 2026

Posted: 27 July 2026 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

Did I ever mention how much I fucking hate ABBA? No? Well, I really, really fucking hate ABBA, and pretty much all covers of ABBA songs too, with the exception of The Sisters of Mercy’s cover of ‘Gimme Gimme Gimme’ which made the set a few times in 1984 just after Wayne Hussey joined. To provide a measure of just how much I fucking hate ABBA, just after university, my then girlfriend and I got a flat, and took her best mate on as a lodger. She loved ABBA. So much so that ABBA Gold was pretty much, the only CD she owned. And she played it all the time. That’s no exaggeration. We’re talking legitimate grounds for eviction or even murder here. So when I upgraded my stereo, instead of selling the old one – which would have fetched a good hundred and fifty quid, which was some wedge back in ’98 – I gave it to her for her room on the proviso that she would never play ABBA in the living room ever again. The rationale for this anecdote will make sense later on.

Meanwhile, when I took this gig on, I hadn’t appreciated that the band I was here for – Dismiss – were only the support, and it blows my mind that a band with some kind of following, however moderate here, would come from Greece to support a local covers band in York. We’ll come back to this presently, too.

My introduction to Too Late for Gods was a pub gig on the other side of town, and my reaction was very much mixed. So, seeing them on a proper stage, through a full PA, and without the element of surprise means I’m in a better position to properly assess their skills.

Their first song is a straight up post-hardcore metal rager, the five-string bass bringing significant depth and power. It’s the grunge leanings which shine through during the next couple of songs, and it’s very soon apparent what a difference a decent mix can make to how songs come across. There are some meh punk pop / emo cuts mid-set, but they’re performed with guts and gusto, which carries them. Their drummer is a solid asset, too, a strong player with a big personality, bringing dynamics and showmanship, and very much driving the band. The penultimate song of the set has a hint of Placebo and a strong hook. They look comfortable in this setting, and give the impression that they would deliver in significantly larger venues, too.

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Too Late for Gods

I’m here for Dismiss, and woah! They are all the energy straight out of the traps. My notes are scant: I’m too busy trying to catch my breath. They play hard rock with a punk edge, and they bring the fire, and what’s more, they’re absolutely relentless, powering through fifteen original songs in forty minutes (the setlist indicates that they dropped two from the planned set, too), but it feels like about twenty whiplash-inducing minutes, as they the songs back-to-back. Their singer is a blur of peroxide, the bassist is a spike-studded energy blast, and they make a strong case for the prosecution in the case that women rock harder than men. And if we’re doing touchstones and references, Lita Ford and The Plasmatics and Amyl and the Sniffers are where we’re at. They absolutely fucking slay. You wouldn’t want to go on after them, especially as, judging by the T-shirts on display, a good number of the punters are here for them. And deservedly. They absolutely play their arses off and are nothing short of phenomenal. Not only band of the night, but one of the highlights of the year to date.

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Dismiss

But suddenly, just as Pop Goes Metal take to the stage, the place is rammed from the front to the back. I guess this is telling. Do we talk about covers bands? Should we contemplate guilty pleasures? I wrote about covers bands just the other night – but can’t help but feel differently about covers bands playing village pubs as background, and covers bands playing ‘proper’ venues and headlining over bands playing sets of original material. Like Natalie Imbruglia, I’m torn. It’s great that people are coming out to small venues and supporting live music. But…

I’ve personally never been embarrassed by my appreciation of pop tunes, and I don’t just mean the 80s stuff I grew up with, like Duran Duran and A-Ha. A good tune is a good tune, irrespective of genre. As such, I’m personally comfortable with the fact that Pop Goes Metal start strong with a thunking Nu-metal take on Katy Perry’s ‘I Kissed A Girl’. However, am I comfortable with the principle of what is, in essence, a novelty covers act? While perhaps not as corny as, say, Elvana or Tragedy (the metal Bee gees tribute), they certainly sit within that bracket.

Objectively, Pop Goes Metal do a great job of delivering what they pitch. They bring a brace of chunky guitars melded to a chunky rhythm section, and Emz gives us gutsy vocals, with rasp and power. Britney’s ‘Toxic’ is a solid choice at the front end of the set and works over the more obvious choice of Britney tunes in terms of their sonic and stylistic range. The Dua Lipa and Billie Eilish songs are beyond my ken, but they go down well.

New addition to the set, ‘Umbrella’ is only so-so, and while Emz reads the lyrics from her phone, the song slides into an extended fretwanking solo. Their interpretation of Mark Ronson’s ‘Uptown Funk’ sounds too much like ‘Free Range’ by The Fall crossed with ‘Black Betty’ to be entirely successful, and while ‘Let Me Entertain You’ benefits from a huge chugging break, it’s still a shit song. ‘Toca’s Miracle’ translates from a dance-pop banger to a thunderous disco metal banger, and it would be curmudgeonly not to acknowledge a job well done there.

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Pop Goes Metal

The audience is particularly hyped and vocal, and increasingly so as the night progresses. Emz’s voice starts to go with five songs to go, and by the end she can barely croak between songs, but still belts ‘em out full lungs. ‘Shake it Off’ not only proves I’ve never knowingly heard a song by Taylor Swift, but that perhaps I’m not entirely the target demographic. ‘Sk8er Boi’ comes in pretty much untouched, and Anastacia’s ‘Left Outside Alone’ is a strong tune that it would be hard to go wrong with, and credit where it’s due, they do it justice. And then it’s onto ending on ‘Mama Mia’… just no. No no no no. They’ve crossed the line.

Blasphemer, Exorcism, Drior, Damage Control – The Fulford Arms, York, 16th July 2026

Posted: 19 July 2026 in Recommended Streams and Videos, Singles and EPs
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The Fulford Arms, York, 16th July 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

The Fulford Arms is great for many reasons, but one is the diversity of the shows it hosts. It’s also something of a haven for metal, with a couple of promoters putting on solid lineups of four bands for a tenner or so. The popularity of metal in recent years – particularly of more extreme persuasions – may well be a sign of the times, and I’ve written previously on the uplifting, even euphoric, qualities of a decent metal gig, and it very much does seem like a fair few here tonight are simply wanting to cut loose and have a blast while being blasted by dark sonic forces.

First up, Damage Control – not the international electroindustrial quartet signed to Metropolis Records, but a York-based three-piece, whose guitarist is a particularly lanky sod. Their set consists of back-to-back, nonstop, fast, raging thrash. The energy inspires some early two-stepping. mostly by one immensely tall bastard with no spatial awareness slam dancing himself. I know I’m on the shorter side, and also, at the age of fifty qualify as an old bugger, but fuck me, how are kids today so fucking massive? Anyway. It makes for a good start to the night.

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Damage Control

Drior are from Nottingham and making their York debut. Their thing is old school death metal with titles like ‘Living Cadaver’. They’re appearance is unprepossessing, simply an assemblage of shorts and T-shirts, but what they do is slow, dark, heavy, and yes, I’ll say it – crushing. The drummer is the main vocalist and growls with a look of malevolence in his eyes. The drumming itself is perhaps a shade loose given its dominance, but the trio pack a commendable sonic density.

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Driot

As is often the case with lineups like this, there’s a step up with every band – although not in the same way as it was in the 90s, when the headliners weren’t only given a superior mix but about 30% additional volume. This very much did used to happen, incidentally, at the same time the supports would often have to pay to play, too. The music industry has found new ways to shaft emerging artists since, but anyone who thinks there was some golden age is misinformed or misremembering. By the same token, band have to be so much tighter and more professional now. I’ll park that here for another time, and instead focus on the fact that Exorcism are all out fury from the offset. And they’re relentless. And loud. Perfect.

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Exorcism

Blasphemer are worthy headliners. They bring the thickest, densest, filthiest racket, churned out via a bristling host of spiky guitars – and their drummer can drum alright. The venue is far from packed, and it seems that Damage Control and their mates have had to go home, but given that it’s the night after England’s World Cup defeat and the hands of Argentina (again) and it’s a Thursday after the students have gone home, there’s still a fair crowd getting down to these guys.

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Blasphemer

Blasphemer are a blast, with full on riffs from start to finish. There are moments that stall me and me gnaw on some questions. They announce a song called ‘Grooming Gang’, and as the lyrics are impenetrable, I’m left to ponder their position. Obviously, I hope they’re not racists, just as I hope they’re not brash metal edgelords, too, as they also play a sample of the voicemail message left by John Samuel Humble, also known as Wearside Jack, who submitted hoax calls and under the guise of The Yorkshire Ripper. ‘I have the greatest respect for you, George..’ It feels rather less exciting or edgy here in 2026 than it did in 1986. Call me sensitive if you like. Still, they kick arse and are nothing short of phenomenal to watch, and are exactly what you need from a midweek metal bill.

Old Corpse Road / Miško Boba / Evil Dungeon Crawler / Aubzagl – The Fulford Arms, York, 5th July 2026

Posted: 6 July 2026 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

Like many places, York may have lost a fair few venues through the years, but its live music scene is positively buzzing right now – especially when it comes to alternative music. And so it is that today sees day three of the tenth annual Swinefest – ostensibly a punk festival, but a broad church which offers a celebration of all kinds of weird, even down to The Masochists playing a set of covers of Rudimentary Peni songs – on Millennium Fields in the afternoon, while in the evening The Fulford Arms promises a smorgasbord of the darkest, most extreme metal. My daughter and I swing by the Fields for a bit in the afternoon, passing The Dark Horse coffee shop which has a (very loud) acoustic performer playing outside on the way, and catch The Sex Cripples’ set before hayfever drives us home. And then the evening, once the pollen has descended, I’m able to venture out safely without wanting to tear my eyes from their sockets. It’s bliss. Entering the dark venue, already murky with smoke, I find myself immediately at ease, and a pint of Vocation Heart & Soul is a winner.

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The Sex Cripples (Because I have to document every act I see, regardless)

I’m here first and foremost for Miško Boba, a band so powerful live they’re probably addictive, but The Fully has a record of hosting some quality metal gigs, and this one, curated by Steelheart Promotions, proves to be one of them.

Oftentimes, black metal can be a bit hit and miss, and in particular the openers can be a bit rough and ready, but while Leeds’ Aubzagl – purveyors of ‘antifascist blackened metal’ may not quite have their image down, but their sound is definitely there, with their twin vocals –guttural growling from the guy who also plays keyboards, a higher, screaming howl from the flame-haired, mask-wearing bassist/lead vocal who’s centre stage, and quite a presence. One of the guitarists is wearing a PWEI T-shirt, which seems a bit incongruous, but apart from the aforementioned bassist, they’re all in shorts and T-shirts and thrash hard. It’s a meaty racket alright. There’s a cover towards the end of the set which they say is a 90s song that influenced them, and it takes me a bit to recognise that it’s an adaptation of Nirvana’s ‘Tourettes’. They play hard, and fast. Very fast, and have songs about killing nazis and hating billionaires. Easy targets, but YES! With 5-string bass and 7-string guitar, they’ve got density. They call up their former bassist, Luke, whose birthday it is (he’s defected to Miško Boba, but all seems amicable) , to join them, and as a 6-piece they’re absolutely phenomenal as they bring the set to a ferocious finale.

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Aubzagl

Evil Dungeon Crawler is a name that sounds like it came from a black metal band name generator, but what does it matter when the logo is a classic spiky pile of sticks? They’re committed to the look alright, with all the hair, spikes and the most elaborate face paint, but how to they sound? Dark and deranged, and as if dragged from flaming purgatorial pits. Their set is a brutal, fierce, and relentlessly hellish half hour, delivered with captivating showmanship, through a whorl or twirling hair. So much hair… Would see again.

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Evil Dungeon Crawler

There’s perhaps a bit much bass and not quite enough guitar to begin with, but Miško Boba are as fierce as ever. And as the set progressed, so the sound improved, and the detail of the interplay between the two guitars and the folkier aspects of their compositions came through. The atmospheric, melodic passages render the returning riffs even more powerful. And perhaps around halfway through he set, I realise just how devastatingly loud they are. And I say that having seen Sunn O))) earlier in the week. It’s a different kind of volume intensity, of course, and with more treble, but in a low-ceilinged small venue, their sonic impact is significant.

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Miško Boba

There’s something ancient and earthy ingrained within their sound which sets them apart. It’s as though the black metal ferocity systems from prehistory, something primal, and every song manifests as a purging from the pain of past lives. They close the set with a new song about a massacre which took place outside Lithuanian capital. It’s the heaviest thing yet. Holy shit. If it’s in any way representative of the forthcoming album, then their best is very much yet to come.

Old Corpse Road boast two guitarists, one of whom looks like Uncle Fester exhumed, a bassist who resembles Giant Haystacks – also exhumed – and a hooded singer who doesn’t look too menacing despite the corpse paint. But shit, they’re heavy from the first bar. Sonically, it doesn’t get much darker or more black metal than this.

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OId Corpse Road

Theirs it truly the sound of souls shrieking as they incinerate in hell. It hurts. The droning, sepulchral synths add layers of menace to a sonic assault which is relentless in its punishing ferocity. My notes are scant because I’m completely enthralled. When done half-arsed, black metal can be lame cosplay, but at its best, it’s nothing short of terrifying and utterly ruinous. Old Corpse Road are firmly in the latter category, and tonight’s set is gloriously brutal.

The Bricks / Imaginary Friends / Rodentia – The Fulford Arms, York, 22nd May 2026

Posted: 23 May 2026 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

It’s bank holiday Friday in May. It’s exam season at university, and York Races on Saturday. And it’s the first day of a heatwave, which hits after three weeks of rain and temperatures which have struggled to make double figures. These could all be factors in explaining tonight’s turnout. But because it’s absolutely melting, I probably go a fair way to compensating any fall in bar sales just to put fluid in as fast as it’s pouring out of me, and I can only imagine how hot it would have been if the place had been packed.

Rodentia are a late addition to the lineup, which has been subject to a number of revisions. They open their set with a cover of ‘Harness Your Hopes’ by Pavement. It seems a curious choice, although having gone viral on TikTok and become their most streamed song on Spotify, meaning it’s probably a lot better known than I appreciate. They’re a three-piece, and the singer/guitarist is a lanky sod who’s vocal style is a croaky drawl. He asks us if we’ve heard of a band called Radiohead before they play ‘Just’. I hope he’s kidding. It’s a passable rendition. On their second original song, ‘Never Left’ (the set alternates a 50/50 split of originals and covers), the bass and guitar part ways in playing the same key around a minute in, and the discord become increasingly apparent as the set progresses. Then there’s a cover of Viagra Boys ‘Worms’. It’s all very much geared towards the lower end of mid-tempo, and as such lacks dynamic and energy. They finally find the accelerator at the end of the last song, ‘Borat’, and go pedal to the metal before a hard stop which feels like driving straight into a wall. There’s potential, but considerable work needed.

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Rodentia

Sheffield’s Imaginary Friends gave the initial impression they were going to be a bit pop-punk, but immediately unleashed a bass-heavy grunged-up wall of noise. At times more straight punk, and in places proper heavy, their invitations to come forward become a running joke throughout the set. Because it’s not especially busy, the space in front of the stage is quite sparsely populated, but half of those present are pinned to the walls in the face of the sheer volume. Apparently, they’ve got merch, too.

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Imaginary Friends

This is a power trio for whom power is the operative word, with a wild flanged guitar sound. It seems I’m too old to know ‘All Star’, the cover they closed with. Apparently, it’s by Smash Mouth, according to a younger mate. Would see again.

The Bricks I would always see again, and by now I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve seen them. The thing is, they’re always bloody good – and tonight is no exception. Whether it’s packed to the rafters or half empty, they always give everything, and there are few bands who are this consistent, both in terms of performance and the standard of the material. However, because the audience is a bit sparse, the vibe is notably relaxed, with more direct interaction between band and audience.

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The Bricks

Their songs are short and fast, and there’s no way they could play with such intensity for an hour even if they had the material. But Gemma’s on chatty form, and while she may be utterly fearsome while singing, between songs her persona’s more akin to Mrs Merton (more so now she’s wearing glasses), and utterly hilarious at times. Because it’s all so natural and unfiltered, not to mention the diametric opposite of the music and the performance, which is full-on, stomping, aggressive, it’s all the more endearing. The bottom line is that they’re a great band. Will definitely see again – next month.

The 113 / Mince / Disappear – The Fulford Arms, York, 6th May 2026

Posted: 7 May 2026 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

Generally speaking, the role of the journalist is to tell the story while staying out of the picture, although Hunter S. Thompson redefined the role of the journalist when he invented gonzo. In the main, I try to remain in the shadows (quite literally), particularly when it comes to live reviews, but sometimes, there’s a narrative switch that simply could not have been anticipated that drags you into the story as a participant, rather than an observer.

“Last time we were here, we got called ‘shouty shit indie’”, says the main singer from Mince, four songs or so songs into their set. It’s true, that did happen, and I stand by that description, too. Given that the last time they were here was April last year, supporting Gans, it would seem it’s niggled them a bit. But, if you’re going to get up in front of people, don’t expect everyone to love it. At least it was no Dream Nails scenario.

Before we move forward, let’s first go back, back, back. The reason I’m here is because The 113, from Leeds, have just released their second EP, The Hedonist, and it’s nothing short of explosive. The real test of a band is whether they can cut it live, though. So now they’re out on the road, grafting – not grifting – and York on a Wednesday night is always going to be a test for an up-and-coming band working to build their fanbase.

It’s not heaving, but there’s a respectable turnout, and first on are Disappear, who trade in jangly country-flavoured indie with a hint of shoegaze. They don’t use plectrums, and the singer / guitarist demonstrates some interesting playing technique. It doesn’t always hit the mark, and the same is true of the off-key approximation of singing. The drummer keeps having to get out from behind his kit to adjust the guy’s guitar pedals, too, which is just weird. They can play, but the songs are uninspired and uninspiring. Toward the end of the set there’s a song that sounds like The Wedding Present circa Bizarro, but again, it’s let down by the vocals. As a band, they aren’t terrible, but I can’t in all conscience say they were any good. The drummer – who is impressive – needs to be in a better band.

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Disappear

And so Mince inform the crowd – who are largely enthusiastic, in fairness – about the review of the last time they were here. I stand by that description, although in fairness, there’s a bit more to it than that: there’s some 60s psych in the mix, and plenty of energy to the performance, too. They have two vocalists – the first, with mop-top haircut, wigs out while playing guitar, while the second paces petulantly, swaggers, and gives it all that. But after maybe three songs, he mostly sits or squats at the back of the stage beside the drum kit, scratching his forehead with his mic and rubbing his face, looking knackered, and stays largely quiet. After coming hard out of the traps, it’s as if he’s out of energy and given up, while the rest of the band thrash on. It’s a bit odd, and oddest of all is that it’s an exact rerun of their previous show here, and on balance they’re better when he takes a back seat (literally).

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Mince

The 113 have built considerable momentum, and fast. Their debut EP, To Combat Regret was released just over a year ago, and The Hedonist continues that arc of nihilistic post-punk aggro delivered with visceral energy. How would it translate live, and how would they fill a headline slot? It turns out they’ve got a solid album’s worth of material, which comfortably fills an hour with no long-winded waffle. They don’t need to pause for political platforming, or pass sociopolitical comment, since it’s all there in the song, which they pack in tightly. And they do so it a nonchalant confidence, too: they’ve got their sound absolutely nailed, and it’s a thick, dense sound, and crisp drums cut through, punchy percussion played with perfect precision. Much of the guitar work is sculpted feedback, but there are steely chords overlaid with sinewy lead parts, and there are times when I’m reminded of Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, another of Leeds’ finest from when the city was the spawning ground of the goth scene that emerged from post punk.

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The 113

They’re electric from start to finish, slamming in with ‘Leach’, and play with an urgency that’s impossible to manufacture. Each band member brings something specific, the towering bassist lurking in the background hammers out hefty grooves. The guitarist plays so hard he busts his A string four songs in, and because they’re not about to let up the momentum, takes another four songs to finally manage to replace it. They simply don’t pause for breath, they keep their heads down and blast them out. ‘When I Leave’ is a mid-set standout, and ‘Entertainment’ is nothing short of scorching. Set closer ‘Conscience’ is a lacerating blast and bang, that’s it, done. The 113 are a band who have got everything down – they hit hard, clinical, brutal, high impact. They’re already making inroads into Europe, and things will likely be quite different come this time next year…

Froglord / Space Pistol / Troll Mother – The Fulford Arms, York, 21st April 2026

Posted: 22 April 2026 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

Suspicious Liquid had originally been down to open this evening’s dark proceedings, but they’ve been replaced by Troll Mother. While not getting to see Suspicious Liquid again is disappointing, southern power sludge duo Troll Mother are everything their name suggests… or are they? They’re more Mötörhead than Melvins, with a hardcore punk edge in places. They also boast an absolutely fucking MASSIVE drum kit, meaning that when the drummer takes on vocal duties – something they share – it’s not always immediately obvious because he’s largely obscured by a huge bank of toms and a swathe of cymbals. They make a cracking racket, too, with next to no pauses for the full duration of their half-hour set.

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Troll Mother

Space Pistol bring the riffs, and they do evoke Melvins, as well as Faith No More, and Hawk Eyes, among others. The three are decked out in matching orange boiler suits and the bassist, who has a board with about 36 pedals plays with his face. He also leaps and bounds – and yes, positively cavorts – about the stage with a flamboyance that’s uncommon to a bad that are this big on hefty riffs. There are false endings galore, and at one point they lock statue-like positions and maintain silence for maybe a good twenty seconds, during which time you could hear a pin drop. They absolutely love this, to the extent that it seems that this moment is a career high point for them. Since they’ve come all the way from Milton Keynes for this, we’re pleased that York is a memorable show for them, and I’m pretty sure they’d be welcome back up here any time.

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Space Pistol

Froglord, meanwhile, are making a return visit after just eleven months. The concept is pretty ludicrous, the stage show even more so: a stoner / doom band all about amphibians, kitted out in masks and arranging their sets as some form of swamp-centric ritual. The fact that they’ve eked this out across six albums now is nothing short of remarkable. But the fact that every show is an event, shaped by that sense of occasion and ritual is part of the appeal – that and the fact the performances are entertaining and they really know how to riff.

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Froglord

But there is a certain serious element to the band (not that heavyweight sludgy riffs in themselves aren’t serious), in that they’re genuinely eco-conscious, and their frog fixation isn’t all just japes, with 100% of the proceeds from digital sales of their new album, Lower & Slower Vol 1, released in March, are being donated to the Waterfowl & Wetland Trust (WWT) – the wetland charity, as well as 50% of all physical media and merch profits. Or, as they put it, ‘At it’s [sic] core, Froglord have always been an environmentally [sic]-driven band. Through their fundraising and tale of an amphibious deity, reeking vengenace [sic] on humanity for the environmental destruction they caused.’ Personally, I like them even more for this. Once could reasonably argue that just a handful of the world’s billionaires could eradicate poverty and save the planet and not even notice a reduction in lifestyle and that Froglord’s sales aren’t even a drop in a puddle in comparison, but that’s not the point: the point is that these guys actually care, and are using their platform for good.

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Froglord

They also put on a great show. It’s no huge development on the last time around: their website positions it as follows: ‘Returning with brand new masks, costumes, and a 6th studio album, Froglord deliver another massive offering of amphibious swamp doom. Recorded live in the studio in a single take, Lower & Slower briefly pauses the band’s concept storytelling of the Tale of The Froglord saga, instead revisiting six previously released tracks from across their discography’. And the fact is, it works: tonight’s performance feels very much like a consolidation, and they seem particularly focused, the set’s structure absolutely honed to perfection in every way. They drop a powerful cover of ‘Iron Man’ early in the second half of the set, and in many ways, this speaks for itself. The bassist plays wearing a frog glove puppet for a while, and after the ritual circulating of the giant rubber toad later in the set, said toad is then used to bash bass strings before eventually tucked in the crook of an elbow in a more friendly fashion for a time.

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Froglord

Admirably, they never break character for a moment: this is outstanding theatre. It’s also outstanding, riff-driven fun. All hail the Froglord!

Salvation / The InSect / The Scarlet Hour – The Fulford Arms, York, 17th April 2026

Posted: 18 April 2026 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

This is one of those occasions where music critique intersects with personal experience. I make no apology for this. I’ve long maintained that one’s relationship with music is personal, and it goes beyond the fact that the soundtrack of your life is something which evolves in ways beyond your control.

The first time I saw Salvation was ay my first ‘proper’ gig, when I was 14: they were supporting The Mission at Sheffield City Hall in March 1990. I didn’t know who they were at the time. But I soon discovered that they were an integral part of the early 80s Leeds milieu, and they’re noteworthy for having their first two singles produced by different members of The Sisters of Mercy, among other things.

The last time I saw them was at The Brudenell in Leeds, the day after the Queen died, and ahead of it, my wife bought me one of their T-shirts. It turned out to be the last birthday present she bought me, as she died just four months later. So here I am, wearing that shirt, to see a band I first saw thirty-six years ago, playing just fifteen minutes from my house in a 150-capacity pub venue. It’s a big deal, but also an occasion which lands with mixed emotions.

The Scarlet Hour are a duo with programmed synth and drum backing and live bass. But there’s an awkwardness about them and their set. The sound is a bit thin – that’s thanks to the bass and backing track being proportionally quiet, and the fairly clean vocals being a bit high in the mix, meaning the cliché lyrics are more audible than is desirable, and the vocals – trying and failing to sound menacing and tortured don’t help. Tim Synistyr (who really is anything but) has the poses – not to mention the leather jacket, open snakeskin-patterned shirt and ‘Body Electric’ T-shirt – but no aspect of the performance feels natural, the poses come across as being forced as the off-key singing. Dose makes the poison, and the naffness has a cumulative effect, making for a long half hour. ‘Stay Awake’ sounds like New Order circa ’83 and ‘Afterlife’ calls to mind the flimsy pop of Depeche Mode’s ‘New Life’ – novel, and a decent enough tune, but it would be a long time before they got interesting. Unfortunately, that’s something The Scarlet Hour never do. The applause is more polite than enthusiastic.

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The Scarlet Hour

The InSect, who released their debut album As It Ever Was a week ago, have a much more elaborate stage show and a full band lineup. Despite the fact I’m a fan of drum machines myself, their performance strikes a huge contrast with The Scarlet Hour’s in terms of dynamics, volume, sonic density, and energy, and much of this is on account of the band-ness they present. In terms of presentation, they’ve a lot more going for them, too: The Insect are flamboyant and theatrical, and look comfortable acting up and bringing the show to the audience. Ed Banshee is a natural from man who spends a good portion of the set among the crowd, and Athena FireChild provides the perfect interplay. Instrumentally, they’re tight, and compositionally and stylistically, there are strong hints of Bauhaus. They go all out to put on a show, to entertain, with bright white lights and various other accoutrements adding to the atmosphere. But ultimately, it’s their energy that makes their set what it is.

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The InSect

And so, to Salvation. For tonight, SASS-era guitarist Adam Clarkson is back in the band at short notice, and this has necessitated a revised set-list from the one played at The Old Woollen in Farsley a week or so previous – but as this seemingly means the reintroduction of ‘Jessica’s Crime’ in place of a cover of ‘Don’t Change’ by INXS, it’s hardly a bad thing. They confess to a few slips during the set, but it’s unlikely anyone out front noticed: the keenest of fans are getting down and busting moves at the front from the start, and this is a relaxed show, with some good-natured back-and-forth between band and audience throughout.

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Salvation

Salvation sound absolutely fantastic, and again highlight the difference between the old-school drum machine bands and more recent ones: they know how to crank up the beats – and the synth bass – to create a full sound which is at least equal to live instrumentation. Perhaps more specifically it’s an early 80s Leeds thing, but they, like The March Violets at The Warehouse last year, sound loud and vibrant, with a bass drum sound that truly kicks and a snare that cracks right into the cranium, punching through the interweaving mesh of the dual guitars.

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Salvation

They were always at the more accessible end of the spectrum in comparison to The Sisters and The Violets, but at the heart of songs like ‘The Shining’, there’s that solid bass groove, pumping drum sound, and nifty guitar work – and live, the guitars pack more punch than on the recordings. Tonight’s rendition of ‘Jessica’s Crime’ lands between the more guitar-orientated version recorded for she shelved Clash of Dreams album for Merciful Release, and the Wayne Hussey produced viola-soaked rerecording, released as a single in 1985, and it’s nothing short of killer. ‘All and More’ lands near the end of the set, which closes with ‘Why Lie’, and the pretence of an encore is tossed aide as they leap into a fun, chuggy cover of ‘Kids in America’ which brings the set to an elated conclusion.

And for all the weight of personal history pressing into this outing for me, I’m more than glad I turned out.

Andracca / Misko Boba / Bruul / Darkened Void – The Fulford Arms, York, 22nd March 2026

Posted: 23 March 2026 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

It’s a good thing it’s not raining or bitterly cold, as they’re running late setting up. Consequently, there’s a hoard of black clad folks milling about outside waiting to be let in – although thankfully, we’re allowed to go and get drinks from the bar to bring back outside. In fairness, it’s a rare thing here, and many much bigger venues are prone to opening the doors a lot more than ten minutes late. Nevertheless, I’m glad I decided to wear a hat, because Spring is still in its early stages and there’s a nip in the air.

It’s still winter inside, though, as we kick off a night of back-to-back black metal. But who knew there were so many shades of black? The four acts on tonight’s bill are all denominations of black metal, but couldn’t be more different.

Darkened Void, from Hull – yes, that’s a ‘u’ and not an ‘e’ – promise ‘melodic death black metal’. How this translates is that some of the guitar work is a bit Brian May at times, and there are some epic choruses in the mix. But there is much heavy darkness to behold, too. They’re certainly tight, and are at their most powerful when they put their heads down and churn out the monster riffs, which benefit significantly from the heft of two guitars.

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Darkened Void

Bruul, purveyors of ‘barbaric black metal’ who hail from York have their priorities right, sorting the incense sticks before their guitars and mic stands. This seems pretty civilised, if a tad bohemian, rather than barbaric. But they bring the density with a solid wall of the filthiest guitars and hell-for-leather drumming to deliver a brutal and relentless rabid blast of bestial fury. They’d probably put some effort into their makeup, but playing in near darkness they probably didn’t need to – they’re all but invisible but for the lead guitarist’s white trainers – although the atmospheric presentation certainly heightened the impact of their pummelling racket. The sheer force of their set is nothing short of stunning, and to his this level of volume and intensity so early in the night is staggering.

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Bruul

Misko Boba are the main reason I’m here after they devastated my ears in this same venue at the tail end of 2024. While being based in York, they’re a band of international origin – vocalist Kanopa is Lithuanian by origin, and her delving into Lithuanian folklore adds a level of mystique. More than that, her stage presence is nothing short of terrifying. But there’s a lot more happening here: the demonic shriek of the blood-smeared singer is paired with churning guitar work and gut-juddering five-string bass. Perhaps singing in Lithuanian (the setlist features an English translation beneath each of the song titles) adds a dimension of otherness, but everything about their performance is blindingly intense. They play hard and fast – very fast. What on the surface sounds like a blizzard of noise is, in fact, highly detailed, and the pace of the fretwork and percussion is dazzling. The effect, ultimately, is so powerful as to kick the air from your lungs.

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Misko Boba

Andracca purport to bring us black metal ‘devoted to suffering… To a Bare the Weight of Death encapsulates 5 years of grief plagued with successive deaths…’ says their bio. With faces and arms smeared with black and a massive skull (what it’s supposed to have belonged to is a mystery) on stage, they’re the quintessence of black metal. But they also highlight the tightrope that is black metal – the fine line between full-throttle, immersive rage and corny theatrics.

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Andracca

‘Thank you!’ vocalist Kieran Dawes rasps, in character, before, in a normal and very polite voice, ‘can I get more vocal in the monitor, please?’ In an instant, the spell is broken. Whereas Bruul maintained the magic by staying mute and just playing the songs, and Kanopa of Misko Boba relaxed into an affable character between songs and switched into fiery demonic mode for the songs themselves, Andracca can’t maintain a consistent approach. Perhaps more cringey than that, though, is the fact that in terms of posturing and cliché, they’re a bit Spinal Tap, but thankfully the drummer doesn’t explode. That said, I seem to be alone in finding the lofted guitars, playing back-to-back, and the power poses rather daft, and the packed crowd laps it up with pumping fists. Seriously, they are well into it, especially the front rows, and this reciprocal energy loop makes for a great atmosphere – and there’s no mistaking the technical skills or epic nature of the songwriting of Andracca, whose forty-five minute set features just seven songs. There’s new material on offer, and they conclude with the seven-minute ‘Oceans of Fire’.

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Andracca

They’re probably the third best band on the bill tonight, due to presentation more than content. But what tonight demonstrates is just how strong the metal scene is round here. Despite what seems to be an ever-diminishing number of venues and the ongoing cost of living crisis, it’s heartening that there are so many quality bands around, and people willing to stump up to go and see them – especially on a Sunday night.

Suspicious Liquid / ATKRTV / World Coda / The Expression – The Fulford Arms, York, 20th March 2026

Posted: 21 March 2026 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

Hang around a scene enough and you come to recognise certain promoters and gauge the quality of the lineup by their name on it. Pasky has quietly, unassumingly, come to be one of those promoters. Three of the acts on tonight’s bill have already been featured – extremely positively – here at Aural Aggravation, meaning the quality of the night was assured in advance.

Sure enough, The Expression, who caught my ear last autumn make for a super start to the night with their brand of dreamy shoegaze, which features some nice strolling basslines. Smoke fills the stage – perhaps a little more than planned – and serves to accentuate their brooding melancholy atmospherics. There’s an aching sadness to their songs, and a great mix out front does them justice.

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The Expression

The night’s unknown quantity, World Coda come on like a gothed-up Curve at first. With a machine subbing in lieu of a drummer (seems to be a theme emerging with London-based bands coming to York having lost their percussion player – one can only hope it’s not some kind of a curse), the murky beats pulse through some shimmering post-rock / shoegaze hybrid with ethereal vocals and crunching (headless) bass tones. There is an immense sound. Then, from nowhere, Yao emits a black metal howl… Then she switches to a gloriously operatic style, without changing expression or posture. It’s incredible to watch this unreadable performer produce such an array of vocal styles without even blinking. In fact, everything about World Coda – appropriately named, as this is music which sounds like witnessing the end of the world in slow-motion – is incredible. The sound is dense but delicate and detailed, and the drums well programmed, and when paired with that ripping bass, it’s like a black metal Slowdive with Big Black’s rhythm section. The elements of their music are all familiar, but assembled in such a way as to be unlike anything I’ve ever heard. It’s tear-inducingly beautiful, and immensely powerful. The dark pop rush of ‘Sleepless Dawn’ is sheer perfection. There are stunned and euphoric expressions around the room.

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World Coda

To say ATKRTV have a hard act to follow is an understatement, but benefit from being completely different in every imaginable way. The slow-build instrumental intro with peaks and troughs does nothing whatsoever to preempt the raging hardcore attack of the second song. They’ve come on a way since December: they present all the same elements as then, with hints of Bleach era Nirvana, Mudhoney, The Jesus Lizard, etc., with lurching, jarring riffs played hard and fast midst shrieks if feedback, with beefy bass and thrashing drums, and they still play with the same explosive energy, but they’re more together, more precise this time around, and all the better for it.

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ATKRTV

Suspicious Liquid are relaunching their eponymous debut album, which was released in November, and from the start, it feels like an event. They start atmospheric, instrumental, the three instrumentalists on stage, building tension. Vanessa makes an Entrance. At first, we hear her but she’s not on stage. The first bold riff of the set surges, and suddenly she appears. They’ve always been a strong live act with a sense of theatre, but tonight, this is a real performance. Into the second song, and she’s straight off and leading the mosh pit.

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Suspicious Liquid

It’s not my ears deceiving me, or the fact that I’m revved after three back-to-back acts who would all be worthy headliners: Suspicious Liquid are bigger, bolder, heavier, and Vanessa stronger in voice, more confident than any time I’ve seen them previously. Tonight feels like the show they’ve been building up to. As a band, they’re locked in a zone and bursting with energy. Again, they straddle numerous genres and amalgamate them with a unique twist: yes, there’s stoner and doom and heavy psychedelia and even a dash of Sabbathesque occultism in the mix, and they sure bring the riffs, and while they’d probably be at home on New Heavy Sounds, you wouldn’t say they sound like any other act, drawing in as they do subtle elements of jazz in the compositions, and there are some strong hooks amidst the athletic vocals.

Sustained moshing breaks out two thirds through the set. It’s bloody roasting and they turn up the heat with the album’s opener ‘Bogman’, and they draw the set – and the night – to a blistering climax. But just what was the ‘suspicious liquid’ in the chalice they passed around the audience? No-one’s saying…

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