Posts Tagged ‘The Lending Room’

Christopher Nosnibor

By the early 80s, the power of punk had mostly petered out. We were very much in the post-punk era, and most of the first wave of punk acts had called it a day or slunk into obscurity. And yet The Damned, whose debut, ‘New Rose’ was the first single by a British punk band, released their most commercially successful album in 1982 in the form of Strawberries, and their continued success through the 80s was largely attributable to their ongoing evolution, leaning into the gothic – and even the overtly goth – style. It was Strawberries which saw Roman Jugg join their ever-expanding family tree to contribute keyboard solos, and when Captain Sensible left the band a couple of years later, Roman stepped into the role of guitarist. So the pitch that they’re ‘playing songs from the back catalogue as they were originally meant to be performed’ might sound like quite a claim, but since the set does predominantly focus on songs from Phantasmagoria and Anything, which Jugg was involved in writing, he’s certainly got grounds. As for older songs, well he toured with the band long enough to be considered an authority.

Considering Gary Numan is playing the Peace Hall just up the road in Halifax tonight, there’s a respectable turnout, and deservedly so. The question of the impact of these large outdoor summer gigs in addition to festivals and their impact on regular gigs, particularly for those at smaller, and specifically grass roots venues may be one to debate in more detail separately, but so far this year it does feel as if the effect may be tipping towards the negative. These events seem to be as much social as musical, everyone plastering their social media with blurry pica and wobbly videos with shit audio to prove that they were there – that they’d forked out £60 to stand a mile from the stage and listen to people chat while slopping exorbitantly-priced crap lager over their own trainers. And fine, each to their own of course, but there’s no trickle-down here, and they’re not a gateway to grassroots events when people I know would often attend the small-venue gigs can’t make it because they’re either at one of these big gigs, or are tired / skint as a result of having been to one – or three. And again, is a £60 gig six times better than a £10 gig? Obviously it’s impossible to quantify, but I think it’s fair to say there’s a point at which the experience grows incrementally less enjoyable as the scale of the show increases. Somewhat ironically, The Damned, still fronted by Dave Vanian, and with Paul Gray on bass and Rat Scabies behind the kit, are playing at both The Peace Hall and Scarborough Open Air Theatre this summer, the latte as support to American rock supergroup Hollywood Vampires (Alice Coooper and Johnny Depp, with Aerosmith’s Joe Perry), which sounds nothing short of hellish. It highlights just how much the nostalgia market has changed the nature of things: I saw The Damned in the middle of the afternoon at Guilfest circa 2003, and they didn’t even sell out the 200-capacity Fibbers in York in 2005 or 2006. They were great, mind you, but felt like they were a band that worked best in a space with a low ceiling and where the front row is within spitting distance, literally.

Boggis Fringe are up first. Having risen from the ashes of dark post-punk combo Fatherfigures in 2024, following the death of their guitarist, Boggis Fringe straddle the space between old-school punks playing old-school punk, and some quite taut post-punk action. Tonight, the power trio are once again expanded to a four-piece, with the addition of Erin on second guitar, who also provides backing vocals and covers drumming duties for a few songs in the middle of the set. As we soon learn, this is because drummer Chris is still recovering from a knee injury, and isn’t yet back to strength to manage the entirety of the set. Add to the instrument swapping some guitar cut outs (pesky pedals and leads), the feel is a shade chaotic, but it in no way detracts, and if anything, makes it feel more authentically punk. Singer Doug plays like he hates his guitar even more than life itself, and gets bonus points for the most audaciously bad wordplay joke I’ve heard in a while.

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Boggis Fringe

I was rather underwhelmed the last time I saw Moose Knuckle in York at the back end of 2024. They felt sluggish and low-energy, and worst of all, entitled, as if they believed the audience should put in more work, despite their own apparent lack of effort. It seems I caught them on an off night. They really give it some on this hometown outing, powering through nine songs on half an hour. New song ‘Hard to Kill’, which lands mid-set, has strong hints of The Ramones. Their cover of The Prodigy’s ‘Breathe’ (mistitled on the setlist as Breath) is still the best thing in the set, mind, and of the originals, the squelchy funk rage of ‘Old Flame’ is a clear standout, although another new song, a grungy beast that’s called ‘Do It On My Own’ is a close second.

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Moose Knuckle

Roman Jugg has assembled quite a band for this latest tour centered around the songs he wrote while with The Damned in the 80s, notably absorbing garage duo Dave and Fi Dukale, aka The Tuppenny Bunters (interchangeably) on drums, keyboards, and vocals. They’ve been on my radar for a while, and although this doesn’t strictly qualify as seeing them as such, it does still sort of count as a twofer. Pat MacNamara is rocking turnups worthy of Kirk Brandon and sideburns that would impress Neil Young, and does a mean bass face throughout the set. Meanwhile Roman himself and guitarist Paul Bedford keep things low-key and keep the focus on the songs, which they bang out with admirable proficiency.

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Roman Jugg Band

The setlist is superb, and apart from ‘Elouise’ not featuring, is more or less a selection of my favourite Damned songs. ‘I Just Can’t be Happy Today’ drops fourth in a rammed set. ‘Edward the Bear’ goes down a storm before they’re back to plundering from Strawberries.

Dave and Fiona switch drums and keyboards for a bit, and they blast through a high-octane rendition of ‘Ignite’. Their styles are quite different, with Fiona bringing more swing and a fluid stroke that contrasts with Dave’s method, and this shift gives the set a certain dynamic. ‘Grimly Fiendish’ – probably the first song by The Damned I heard growing up still sounds ace – as if The Kinks had penned a cabaret goth tune. Dark but poppy and great fun. As the set moves into its final stages around the hour mark, they kick it up a couple of gears and raid the early singles for blistering takes on ‘Smash it Up’ and ‘Neat Neat Neat’. There’s barely a minute’s pause, during which only half the band actually vacate the stage before they encore with a hundred-mile-an hour ‘New Rose’ which delivers a final injection of adrenaline for the night.

Sod your social media ‘I was there’ big-names-in-massive-venues shows: this is still, and will forever be, what live music is really about.

Christopher Nosnibor

Having shown a remarkably consistent rate of output, with three albums in just over three years (four if you include their collaboration with The Body), BIG | BRAVE have also maintained a similarly solid touring schedule, which has for the lucky people of Leeds brought them to the city on each of their last three circuits which have brought them to the UK.

On record, BIG | BRAVE achieve a rare intensity, and while heavily reliant on drone, feedback, slow, heavy percussion – things familiar to fans of numerous bands like Earth, Sunn O)), and Swans, they demonstrate a unique approach to songwriting and structure, and an ability to tap into raw emotion in a way which goes far deeper than mere words. Live, however, they’re simply so much more. All of these elements are amplified – and not just in the literal sense by means of their towering backline. Oftentimes, the first time of seeing an outstanding live act draws you back in the hope of recreating that initial ‘wow’ moment. But anyone who’s seen lots of live music will likely agree that great as subsequent experiences are, they never have quite the same impact. It’s incredibly rare – in fact practically unheard of – for an act to hit that same spot more than once. BIG | BRAVE are that rare thing: despite high expectations, they always seem to pull out something extra and surpass those expectations.

The hype from people I know in real life and virtually for these shows, particularly in context of the new album, A Chaos of Flowers was huge. And, it soon proved, entirely justified.

Keeping tour costs to a minimum, Aicher, who provided the main support previously, is the sole support this time around. The solo project of their live bassist, Liam Andrews, he’s joined this time around by BIG | BRAVE guitarist Mathieu Ball, and his presence adds further layers to the deep, rumbling sounds emanating from the PA. Playing in near-darkness, Andrews conjures thunder and heavy drones and explosions, while Ball wrings epic howls of feedback. Much of the sound is derived from the use of open contact with the guitar lead when disconnected from the metal-bodied bass he grinds against his immense rig, and there looks to become modular lead switching going on, too. This set feels darker and more structured than a year ago, and captures – and expands on – the sound of the Russell Haswell mastered ‘Lack’ single.

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Aicher

BIG | BRAVE’s ‘quieter’ new record does not translate to a lower volume live, but a balanced, dynamic approach to the sound. From the opening moments of the set, I find myself experiencing the physical sensations of enormous volume and strong lower-end frequencies, powerful vibrations shake my nostrils, my legs, even my scrotum, in a slow build. Frone hereon in, my notes are sparse as I find myself completely immersed in the performance. For an hour, I forget where I am, and the entire room is transfixed: there’s no chat, no-one’s jostling to be here or there, pushing forward, going back and forth to the bar. Time stands still, and so do we, utterly captivated by every moment.

‘The blinding lights facing out,’ I note… ‘A hypnotic, mesmerising, immense wall of shimmering sound. Each strike of the bass yields a shuddering quake. Sparse, subtle percussion’. I recorded very little else, but the rest is etched into my memory with such vividness it’s as is I can watch it all back in my mind’s eye.

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BIG | BRAVE

Watching the neck of Ball’s guitar flexing under force against the amp one minute, and seeing him move, light-footed around the stage, with the deftness of a point-toed ballet dancer is remarkable, and compelling. And the sustain! Without striking a note, with headstocks pressed against cabs, both his guitar and Andrews’ bass hold notes for near eternities. Robin Wattie is an understated yet immensely powerful presence, with instrumental segments far outweighing the vocal elements, but her guitar, too, is immense, and Tasy Hudson is outstanding – slow, measured, precise, powerful.

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BIG | BRAVE

Andrews applies a violin bow to the bass for ‘I Felt a Funeral’, bringing an even weightier, dronier facet to the heavily textured sound. And that sound – and beyond, every molecule of their essence – stems from the contradictory elements of fragility and force, and they pull against one another at every moment. And it’s from the space between that the magical power of BIG | BRAVE emerges.

It’s only at the end, as the rapturous applause fades, that Robin finally speaks. The rest of the band are packing down leads and things around her as she tells us, her voice quiet and choked with emotion, how grateful they are to us for coming, for listening. It’s moving to see an artist so humble, so genuinely touched and amazed to be doing what they’re doing, that they’re playing to full venues who are so engaged. They’re doing steady trade at the merch stall a few minutes later, too, and deservedly so.

I leave, clutching my pink vinyl copy of A Chaos of Flowers after gushing at Mathieu about how they blew me away – again – while he served me, and step into the rainy night completely awed by the intensity of what I had just witnessed.

Christopher Nosnibor

It’s been quite a week for Benefits. Kicking off an extensive UK tour in the same week as the release of their debut album, which has landed to universal critical acclaim, they’ve come a long way, and they know it better than anyone. It’s small wonder they’re fired up for this return to Leeds, which is where it all started in terms of their journey as a live act, and which has seen them transition from a homespun lockdown project into a national act with a following that’s growing by the day, due in no small part to their formidable live performances.

But to step back a moment and consider the album, of which myself I wrote a suitably efficiently enthusiastic review of just the other day: ‘universal critical acclaim’ is no mere hyperbole. Sometimes, a release by a major artist will receive a set of (very similar) reviews in the major press which almost feel like there’s been some kind of advance agreement on a consensus that this is one of their ‘good’ albums or a ‘return to form’ or whatever, with only one or two outliers, more often than not in more alternative channels. These moments strike as somewhat suspicious, since you clearly can’t please all of the people, even some of the time when it comes to something as subjective as music.

And yet Benefits have defied all of everything with the reception for Nails. Sure, an interviewer for Louder Than War suggested that the album was ‘depressing; and admitted it wasn’t something he envisaged listening to much, but the site’s review was roundly positive.

This unanimity is testament to the band’s unifying message: while some may find the barrages of noise challenging, there is absolutely no denying their sincerity, passion, or the power of the truth spoken in the lyrics, making Benefits THE voice of the disaffected here in Shit Britain. You might think that having just expended nearly a thousand words on the album the other day I’d be all out of words for benefits, but I’m just warming up, because the more I see and hear them, the more I have to say.

As the place packs out and the queue at the bar packs as deep as the clamour for the front, guitar / drums duo Scrounge entertain us with a vigorous set. They’re a pleasant surprise who start out suggesting that they’re ramshackle punkers with a murky distorted guitar sound, before, over the course of their set, revealing that they’re so much more. Unexpectedly melodic, with some chiming guitar tones, they deliver some proper songs with tunes and choruses, and incorporating both acoustic drums and drum pads, they vary the sound and style throughout the set. They’re indie, but with guts, and remind me in places of A Band of Susans.

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Scrounge

Something has changed since Benefits last came to Leeds, and it’s not just the drummer – although Cat Myers is stunning, and her contribution can’t be overstated. This is my third time seeing the band, and the third drummer I’ve seen them with, and Cat really brings a rare level of sonic articulation to the dynamic of the sound. She doesn’t just drum: she drives the colossal walls of noise blasted out by the Major brothers. They’ve never sounded better: the dual-synth noise assault is crisps and clear and subject to perfect separation tonight, meaning the tones and frequencies really hit hard; the bass shakes the bowels while the treble vibrates the nostrils (I take it’s that’s not something only I experience) as they blast through ‘Marlboro Hundreds’: just as it’s the perfect album opener, it’s the perfect set-opener, too, and following with ‘Empire’ again delivers that antagonistic blast of noise and rage that’s utterly flooring.

But as I said, something has changed. They seem more confident – not cocky by any stretch, still as humble as ever – but assured, while the crowd – perhaps there are more here who’ve been swayed by the acclaim – is a but chattier in pockets, which is irritating, but contrasted by the number of people who are shouting the lines back to the stage. There are more calls out, too – not heckling, per se as it’s not critical, but a keenness to engage, bantz (perhaps not best recommended, but indicative of the level of exuberance in the room) and even hands out for high fives (perhaps not best recommended, but indicative of the level of exuberance in the room).

‘Divide and Be Conquered’ delivers a deep dance groove while Kingsley throws rockist mic stand poses, before they take it down a notch with ‘Shit Britain’ with its shuffling beats and splashes of samples.

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Benefts

As I said, the more you listen, the more you discover: they’re not just shouting and walls of noise, and the set’s variety is something that stands to the fore, perhaps more so with the benefit (boom) of familiarity: ‘Warhorse’ is a raw punk, while ‘Council Rust’ is sparse; ‘Thump’ brings a white noise blitzkrieg ahead of a muscular rendition of fan-favourite ‘Flag’, which is utterly devastating.

Kingsley sits, slumped on the drum riser or on all fours between songs later in the set: he pours every ounce of energy and emotion into every line, and while there is clearly an element of performance about a Benefits show, more than anything, it’s about giving it all to every show, every song, every line, every word. This is fucking real. And that’s what people respond to. The music may be aggressive, harsh, delivered right in your face, but it’s unifying.

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Benefits

Hall can barely stand after an extended and ultra-intense rendition of ‘Traitors’, but still just finds the juice for the (not really) encore of ‘Taking Us Back’, which swings into arena rock and which shouldn’t work, but does in fact provide the perfect finish to a set which eschews genre limitations and showcases a band channelling by whatever means, and doing so with colossal force. The experience leaves me too socked in the mouth to wrap up with a pithy one liner or anything smart. Just… fuck, yeah.