Posts Tagged ‘York’

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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Utterly Fuzzled #5: Gaza Gig – Fulfordgate WMC, York, 6th December 2025

Posted: 8 December 2025 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

Back in September, Navigator Art and Performance hosted ‘A Gig for Gaza’ to raise funds for MAP (Medical Aid for Palestine) and PCRF (Palestinian Children’s Relief Fund). At the time, I wrote, ‘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’. But here we are again. The genocide continues. And as the government continue to stifle protest against the genocide– which for some reason they find more problematic than the mass killing of civilians, largely by arresting pensioners with placards, events such as this show that support and solidarity exists in ways which may be less headline-grabbing, but no less significant.

This time around, it’s the curators of the consistently wonderful Utterly Fuzzled events who are doing their bit, this time with a fundraiser for Medical Aid for Palestinians. It can often feel like that as artists, or individuals, we’re powerless in the face of this, and in many ways, we are, but these are the ways we use our platforms and what capacity we have to do something – because something, however, small, is infinitely better than nothing.

It’s a cold and very wet Saturday night in December. The kind of night that would validate the narrative that music venues go bust because they’re not supported, and people want to see bands they know over local acts and so on… yes, it’s been cold and wet in York for a solid month now, and every time I leave the house to go to an event I experience a depressing sense of déjà vu.

One thing that will never engender a sense of déjà vu is the range of acts on offer at a typical Fuzzled event, and this is no exception.

Efemel should have been further up the bill, but the demands of parenting young children don’t sit so easily with being in a band – meaning that anyone who wasn’t down early doors missed out on a treat. On the surface, they’re an indie rock act, who play sad but optimistic and heartfelt songs, with a dash of country in the mix. But that’s only half the story: fairly ordinary on paper, but on stage, they’re rich in quality, with nuanced and well-considered arrangements and a high level of technical proficiency, with a lead guitarist who demonstrates a rare understanding that less is more.

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Efemel

Kar Pouzi proved to be an absolute revelation – at least to me. Anyone who is a regular reader will know where I’m coming from here, and I felt a buzz of excitement from early on in her unashamedly strange and arty set. Switching between baritone saxophone and unusual microphone technique, Helen Papaioannou offers a performance that’s captivating – for me – and perplexing for many. Her setup involved laptop and pedals, with undulating oscillators and drum machines accompanying her unconventional approach to music-making. There’s a lot of breath and discord here, and – at times – some blasting noise. Kar Pouzi sits on the fringes of jazz, with the saxophone and vocals channelled through various processors and loops resulting in music that belongs to the early, evolutionary stages of industrial as represented by Cabaret Voltaire and some of Throbbing Gristle’s work.

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Kar Pouzi

Landing in the middle of the bill, Raucous Dorks are a bit ramshackle, with their set marred somewhat by a very trebly guitar sound and, despite spending some considerable time passing the tuner back and forth, some serious tuning issues. There were moments which offered glimmers of entertainment, but they really didn’t seem to be firing on all cylinders on this outing.

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Raucous Dorks

In contrast, Knitting Circle never fail to deliver, and seemingly find additional cylinders to fire every time they play. Even though reduced to a three-piece in recent months, they charge forth, sonically undiminished, Pete Dale’s choppy Andy Gill / Wilko Johnson influenced guitar slicing across Jo’s strolling basslines. Their songs are songs which touch on a swathe of sociopolitical issues and – now (semi) famously, after a BBC feature – issues rarely broached, such as the menopause, the topic of ‘Losing My Eggs’. Because things are running behind time, their set is abridged, but they still manage to open with a new song, closed their set with the rousing and apposite ‘Safe Routes’ and pack in no shortage of established corkers along the way. They’re raising awareness of menopause, they’re anti-fox hunting, they’re opposed to genocide and war in general, and are clearly a menace to society. They absolutely get my backing, and are without question among the finest of the city’s representatives, at a time when York is spawning some fantastic bands.

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Knitting Circle

Headliners Fashion Tips aren’t from York, but they’re pretty fucking special, as my coverage of their releases and their last York appearance supporting Thank in April last year attests. They’re presenting a different lineup here, and are stripped back to a three-piece. And tonight’s headlining set is barely half an hour in duration, but it’s a brain-frying frenzy of explosive electronica and instruments that sound plain wrong at times – by which I mean the bass sounds like brain-whizzing scribbling synth overloading with treble on minute before switching to gut-blasting low-end the next while the guitar delivers both shards of trebly distortion and weirdy noises more commonly associated with analogue synths. The chaotic, cacophonous racket is all driven by the most frenetic, spasmodic blasts of drum machine. The band positively crackle with energy, and look like they’re having a blast as they pack the songs so tight there’s absolutely no time to catch a breath. The effect is a short, sharp shock, and makes for a dizzying climax to a stacked lineup – and all in a good cause, too. Free Palestine!

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Fashion Tips

PAK40 / Teleost / ATKRTV – The Fulford Arms, York – 4th December 2025

Posted: 5 December 2025 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

It’s a cold and very wet Thursday night in December. The kind of night that would validate the narrative that music venues go bust because they’re not supported, and people want to see bands they know over local acts and so on – if the place had been quiet. But there’s nothing quiet about tonight., in terms of turnout or decibels. Ok, it’s not rammed, but it’s respectably busy, and as for the volume… These guys take it all the way to eleven.

The promoter’s strategy of booking a local / student / uni band to open up is one that rarely fails, and there’s a significant turnout early doors for ATKRTV. It helps that they’re good, albeit an acquired taste and not your average uni band. Operating in the classic power trio format, their primary inspirations are clearly US noise rock and grunge – there’s a bit of the Jesus Lizard here, a dash of Sonic Youth and Shellac there – as well as UK 90s noise that makes nods to the likes of Fudge Tunnel and Terminal Cheesecake – but there’s a lot going on, with hints of avant jazz in the blend, too. They’re a bit rough round the edges, but there is a musical style which is forgiving of this, and the jagged jarring juxtapositions of squalling guitar work with some meaty bass work evidences a technical ability beneath the surface of the feedback-strewn tempest. And while the banter might need some work, the songs are a glorious angular explosive racket, and they give them a hundred percent. And this is why it’s always worth getting down early doors. Every headliner was a support act once, after all.

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In my recent review of that debut album, Atavism, I commented on how the challenge would be for them to replicate the live sound in the studio. This is because their life sound is simply immense. There really is no other word for it. And this is not volume simply for the sake of it: this is volume as an expression, volume which renders the music physical, volume without which certain frequencies and tonalities, so integral to their sound, would not be achievable. Their performance in this same venue back in February was spellbinding, and I came tonight in the hope of replicating that experience. And oh yes, I did, and then some: Teleost seemed to take things to the next next level tonight.

Theirs is a subtly different take on the whole droning doom / stoner form, incorporating almost folky elements in the way that more recent Earth albums do. And instead of being solely about bludgeoning riffery – and hell, there’s plenty of that – there’s a rare attention to detail, not just in the delicate picking and soft cymbal splashes in the quieter moments, but in the full-spectrum sonic experience they conjure. And yes, conjure is the word: this is a world of magic made with a mystical blend of musicianship, amps, pedals, and something else quite indefinable. The way Leo Hancill uses a standard guitar, played through a substantial but not extravagant pedal set and two amps, to cover the range of both guitar and bass is spectacular in itself, but what really makes their sound unique, and it’s so easy to lose yourself in the timbre and texture, the way the sounds reverberate against one another to create this sensurround experience.

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Teleost

Once again, I find myself truly mesmerised by Cat Redfern’s ultra slow drumming. What’s most remarkable is how effortless she makes it appear. Granted, her sticks are batons, but she is still an immensely hard hitter please with absolute precision. Yet she plays with an order of serenity, her expression calm, almost a smile, although it’s clear that’s behind this is intense concentration, and perhaps an element of telepathy between herself and Leo. Certainly the intuition between pair is remarkable, and no amount of rehearsal alone can achieve this level of tightness. The way they navigate the peaks and troughs, spinning elongated quiet passages, where they reduce everything to a hushed hum and the tinkle of a cymbal before bringing in a cataclysmic riff with pinhead precision is nothing short of phenomenal. And for all the noise, the experience is remarkably calming.

Before Teleost, there was PAK40. But with basis / vocalist Andy Glen now resident in Germany, and Leo Hancill living in Glasgow, activity from this former York duo is now extremely rare. That they’re touring with Teleost, having released a new EP simultaneous with the Teleost album makes economical sense, but also represents a significant feat of co-ordination.

It’s not difficult to identify the origins of Teleost when listening to pack 40. They’re certainly slow and heavy. But their style draws more overtly on the Sabbath-based doom sludge template, and there much more overtly metal. In places, they present a sort of blackened New Age metal hybrid. There’s also something more direct about their drum / bass combination. But oh, that bass. The thick, tearing distortion when the riffs kick in are agonisingly close to brown note territory: you feel your ribs rattle and your skin quivering.

In contrast to Cat Redfern’s zen drumming, Leo drums with his face, and in contrast to Hanclil’s slow nodding guitar style, Andy Glen goes all out with some unrestrained headbanging as he unleashes the most pulverising bass riffs. PAK40 are harder, and more abrasive. And this is why the double-header works: for all of their similarities, the two bands bring different shades of heavy. And they’re both intense, physical forces.

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PAK40

I babble some shit to people on the way out. I think I got away with it, because everyone is equally dazed. We’ve been blitzed, blown out of our minds and shaken out of our skins tonight by a musical experience that borders on transcendental. It’s a cut above your average wet Thursday night in December, for sure.

Benefits / The DSM IV – The Fulford Arms, York, 19th November 2025

Posted: 20 November 2025 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

Benefits exploded onto the scene not long after lockdown – and I mean exploded, an atomic detonation of rage. The essence of the setup was pretty simple: angry sociopolitical spoken word delivered with blistering vitriol, backed by a blinding wall of noise. The result could reasonably be described as something in between Whitehouse and Sleaford Mods, but the fact is that from day one, Benefits created their own niche. The live shows were jaw-dropping, and the debut album, Nails captured that raw energy with a rare precision.

The arrival of second album, Constant Noise marked a necessary departure – sonically mellower, far more beat-orientated, a lot less shouty, angry-sounding. My first impression was that it was decent, more produced, but still packed some sting in the lyrics., and will be hard to top in terms of the number of mentions of dogshit in albums of the 2020s. But it’s a fair reflection of post-lockdown Britain: dogs have proliferated exponentially, and concordantly so has the volume of dogshit – and, just as bad, bags of dogshit tied and dropped, piled next to or on top of bins, and hung in trees. What kind of twat does that? A selfish one is the only answer. But as for the album, I kinda let it sit for a while. But over time, with more – and more – listens, the album’s depths reveal themselves. Constant Noise is every bit as angry as Nails, and if anything, the more moderate, tempered delivery hits harder. It just takes a little bit longer to reveal its depths and quality. But how would this translate live, especially now they’ve been stripped back to the founding duo of Kingsley Hall and Robbie Major?

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Benefits

Before we would get to find out, there was the equally intriguing support. The Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster are one of those acts who may have only attained cult status during their time together, but it’s one which has expanded since their demise. They were always a band destined to implode, as was apparent when I witnessed a particularly fractious gig here in York circa 2007. But this was always a band which had derangement and volatility wired into their makeup. Guy McKnight formed DSM IV in 2018, and they’re an altogether different proposition, trading in gothy electro with some tidy guitar textures woven into the fabric of the songs, and Guy seems altogether more settled. It’s all relative, of course, and he ventures into the crowd on numerous occasions, and at one point around the middle of the set, tosses mic stand over, drops the mic and busts some tai chi moves. It’s a solid set, both compelling and entertaining, and they’ve got some tunes, too.

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The DSM IV

Benefits don’t really have a great many tunes in the conventional sense. Choruses and hooks aren’t the primary focus of their compositions. Hall’s words range from reflective and ponderous to outright roaring rage, the backing spanning sprawling barrages of obliterative noise to quite chilled dance grooves. But at this volume, and when delivered with this much passion, there’s nothing chilled about this live show.

Here, I find myself returning to the topic of seeing an act you’ve seen before and been blown away by, and going to see them again in the hope of replicating that first time – only it’s a weak hope, because the first time has the element of surprise which is unlikely to be repeated. Yes, a band may be consistently awesome, but that first bombshell experience, that initial high… very few bands have the capacity to have that impact more than once. Benefits, however, hit even harder on this outing than any before.

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Benefits

There was word online that their current tour was as brutal as any they’d ever done. Having seen them three times previously, and never with the same lineup, it seemed like that claim might be a bit of a stretch, particularly without a live drummer. But synthetic beats have a way of bludgeoning and cracking in a way that live drums don’t always, and when paired with gut-churning low-frequencies and ear-bleeding top-end noise, the sonic impact of what blasts from the PA is positively immolating.

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Benefits

Kingsley gets most of the chat out of the way at the start, with a bit at the end: in between, they power through a relentless set uninterrupted. And relentless it is, and not just sonically: with the sole lighting consisting of blinding white strobes for the entire duration of the hour-and-twenty-minute set, the stark, uncompromising nature of the music and lyrics is amplified. They put every ounce of energy into the show, Hall positively streaming with perspiration by a third of the way through. And we feel the passion; the whole room is buzzing and aglow with a sense of unity through a shared experience of catharsis. These are shit times. Dark times, bleak and scary times, domestically and globally. Benefits capture the zeitgeist, and rail against those who will one day be proven to have stood on the wrong side of history – the right-wing, flag-shagging, pro-Brexit, racist, xenophobic, hatemongering, exploitative, manipulative capitalist shits and their supporters and enablers – articulating thoughts and feelings with a unique precision and an intensity which is positively nuclear. The experience is nothing short of mind-blowing.

Dead Space Chamber Music / Lunar Cult Club / Eldermother – The Fulford Arms, York, 17th November 2025

Posted: 18 November 2025 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

Live music should carry a warning over its addictive properties. Witnessing a band playing a set so good that you’re buzzing for hours, even days afterwards is a unique high, and one that sets a seed of a desperate need to replicate that experience.

I’ve seen a lot of live music since I started going to gigs over thirty years ago, but the number of acts who have ignited that sense of fervent excitement is limited. I’ve seen many, many amazing shows, but few have blown me away to the extent they’ve felt in some way transformative. Dead Space Chamber Music are one of those few, and I left the Cemetery Chapel in York a few months back feeling dazed and exhilarated, my ears whistling despite having worn earplugs. I simply had to see them again, in the hope to experience that same sense of rapture.

Eldermother – consisting of Clare de Lune on harp and vocals and Michalina Rudawska on cello – have no shortage of musical pedigree, and a superabundance of talent which they showcase with their minimal neoclassical works, a mix of covers and original material. They open with Radiohead’s ‘Street Spirit (Fade Out)’ led by harp and with Clare’s soaring vocals, and it’s one of those performances that make the hair stand up on back of your neck with its haunting atmosphere. There’s a rendition of WB Yeats’ poem ‘The Stolen Child’, a work rich with imagery inspired by wild nature and imbued with emotion and drama. The execution is magnificent, and the originals are similarly graceful and majestic. ‘Hurt’ may not be by any stretch representative of Trent Reznor’s career, but it certainly showcases his capacity for powerfully emotive songwriting, and if it’s the song which forms his legacy, it’s all to the good. Yes, Eldermother play a semi-operatic version of ‘Hurt’ with harp and dark, brooding cello, and… woah. It’s almost too much, especially this early in the evening. I find myself dabbing a tear and grateful for the low lighting.

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Eldermother

Lunar Cult Club – featuring Doug Gordon, aka Futures We Lost – as the provider of the instrumental machinations, take the theatricality up several notches to deliver a set of otherworldly cold, cold, darkest electro with glacial synths and funereal forms. The bank of synths swirl and grind, muddy beats thud and pop from amidst a dense sonic fog. Sonically, they’re impressive – in the main, the arrangements are sparse, and overtly analogue in form – but visually, they’re something else. Theirs is a highly theatrical stage show, and this significantly heightens the impact of the songs. The two singers, dressed all in black and with faces obscured by long, black lace veils – Corpse Bride chic, as my notes say – sway and move their arms in an unnerving fashion, as if reanimated, exhumed. I’m reminded of Zola Jesus and of Ladytron, and I’m mesmerised by their facsimile of a Pet Sematary Human League with its spellbinding marionette choreography. The final song, ‘No-Ones Here to Save Her’ is as dark as it gets: the vocals merge and take us to another realm entirely.

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Lunar Cult Club

I’m still floating in a state of mild delirium when Dead Space Chamber Music take to the stage. The atmosphere is thick, tense, hushed… awed. Something about the trio’s presence alone makes you sit up, lean in, eyes wide, ears pricked. There’s a lot of detail here. Their focus is gripping by way of spectacle, and their set is designed as a linear work which evolves and transitions over its duration, in a way which calls to mind when Sunn O))) toured Monoliths and Dimensions, whereby, over the course of the set, Attila Csihar transformed into a tree. There are props and costume embellishments, mostly on the part of Ellen Southern, who performs vocals and various percussion elements and a strange stringed instrument: she brings much drama and theatricality, delivered with a sense of self-possession and deep spirituality which is utterly entrancing.

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Dead Space Music Orchestra

They’re so quiet you can hear matchsticks dropping into a tray. But the fact that these things are audible, amidst cavernous reverb and sepulchral echoes, is a measure of the clarity of the sound and the band’s attention to detail. Ekaterina Samarkina is impressive in the sheer versatility and nuanced approach she takes to the percussion which is truly pivotal to the performance. Her work is so detailed, subtle, the sound so bright and crisp, as she slowly scrapes the edges of her cymbals with a bow. Lurking in the background, Tom Bush – on guitar – plays with restraint, sculpting shapes and textures rather than playing conventional chords and melodies. In combination, they conjure a rarefied atmosphere.

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Dead Space Chamber Music

But towards the end of the set, as if from nowhere, emerge huge cathedrals of sound. The last time around, I compared their climactic crescendos to Swans, and having seen Swans just over a week ago, I very much stand by the parallel called then. And this is not volume for volume’s sake: this is about catharsis, about escape. Dead Space Chamber Music make music which is immense, transcendental. And when they go all-out for the sustained crescendo of the finale, it’s not because of a bank of pedals or a host of gear: they simply play harder, throwing themselves behind their instruments, and full-throttle intensity. It may not be as loud as on that previous outing, or perhaps it’s simply because I’m expecting it, but they nevertheless raise the roof, and fill the space with expansive layers of sound on sound.

The three acts very much compliment one another, making for an event which is more than merely a gig, more than three bands playing some songs: this is an occasion, steeped in theatre and art, performed with a sense of ritual. The experience is all-encompassing, immersive, enveloping; it takes you out of life and suspends time for its duration. It will take some time to return to reality.

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.

Watch: ‘Fish-Like Things’ by Suspicious Liquid

Posted: 30 October 2025 in Recommended Streams and Videos, Singles and EPs
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Relative newcomers Suspicious Liquid have crashed the York scene in a big way with some powerful live shows, and now, with an album in the offing, they’ve gifted us with a video for ‘Fish-Like Things’.

It’s the perfect introduction to the band – melding elements of stoner / doom, prog, psychedelia and even a hint of jazz, and driving them home with some big riffage, ‘Fish-Like Things’ encapsulates the weird and wonderful sound of Suspicious Liquid. The accompanying video is suitably dark and twisted, and locals have the added bonus of being able to play ‘identify the location’.

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Watch: ‘The Pilgrim’s Arc’ by Papillon de Nuit

Posted: 23 October 2025 in Recommended Streams and Videos, Singles and EPs
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The catalogue of material released by Papillon de Nuit, the ever-shifting, ever-evolving musical project of Stephen Kennedy, continues to expand with the release of single number eight.

Kennedy’s approach to the project is both interesting and unusual, with each song recorded at a separate session, often not even fully-formed in terms of writing and arrangement beforehand, and realised with various guest musicians and vocalists. Retuning once more to Young Thugs studio in York, ‘The Pilgrim’s Arc’ again sees Stephen handle a considerable range of duties, from drums to grand piano and providing spoken and sung vocals, as well as writing and arranging the song itself, while joined by Michalina Rudawska (cello) and Karen Amanda O’Brien (spoken word).

The Exceptional Mr Hyde make a guest appearance here, providing ‘menacing spoken word’, while Steve Whitfield  added bass and guitar, as well covering production work

The result is a striking, dramatic, percussion-driven piece with some chunky bass, and layered vocals creating an almost schizophrenic mutter behind a soaring melody.

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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.

Utterly Fuzzled #4 – Fulfordgate WMC, York, 18th October 2025

Posted: 19 October 2025 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

It says something about the organisers when you book a ticket for an all-day event having only heard of two of the bands on the bill, and don’t even feel the need to research the others. The previous three Utterly Fuzzled events have rapidly built Jo and Pete Dale a reputation for curating lineups of remarkable quality from the region and further afield – such a reputation that today was down to its last nine tickets the day before – impressive considering that it’s running alongside a storming sold-out three-day event up the road at The Fulford Arms. It’s worth noting that this is all happening a couple of miles or so out of the city centre, where there is only really The Crescent and The Barbican within close proximity of the city walls. What can we take from this? There is still a strong demand for live music that isn’t mainstream, isn’t tribute acts, and that the scene in York – thanks to a number of hardworking people – is thriving right now, with a rare abundance of homegrown talent and a strong sense of community at its heart. And the Utterly Fuzzled events encapsulate all of that and more, being almost a mini-scene of their own – not in a snobbish, self-serving way, but quite the opposite, offering ‘no questions asked’ discounted tickets, and espousing an ethos of inclusivity.

With these events, there will always be something new to stimulate the ears, and in keeping with the DIY ethos that’s perfectly summarised by the stage backdrop, they always find ways of opening proceedings with some homespun flash of warped inspiration. Today, it’s Iris the Gong. Said gong is a feature of their events, and on this occasion, she becomes the star, where initially, Jo Dale serves up some dramatic crescendos and crashes. Pete then steps up to forge altogether sparser atmospheric sounds, utilising all parts of the gong and using a large beater to creates low hums. Then it’s open to the floor for some audience improvs, culminating in a few face-wobbling smashes.

It makes for quite the intro for Troutflies – one of the two acts I was aware of in advance, and who have featured on here recently. They’re loose and li-fi, with melodica drones, various bits and pieces clop clopping and scraping, samples and guitar that’s by turns laid back and scratchy wavering through some half-songs – sort of low key, a bit slowcore, quite Silver Jews, a bit Pavement before Slanted and Enchanted, and at times gloriously atonal and off-key, and as far as time signatures go, they’re out the window. Reuben Pugh drawls rather than sings, and it all works, in the sense that yes, it’s supposed to sound like that. It’s not for everyone, and it takes a certain amount of guts – or madness – to get up and make such a spectacular cacophony.

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Troutflies

Late substitutes Orchard, from Scarborough, are loud and fast and abrasive. Angular punk noise with guitar and drums, shared vocal duties. The guitarist could save himself some work by buying a tuner, but kudos for his ability to tune by ear. What matters is that they really do attack the songs – songs in favour of immigration, about depression, about the country’s lurch to the right, and play with passion The guitars are gritty, the drumming hard and expressive, the vocals shouty. On the strength of this outing, which concluded with guitarist Joel clarifying that his previous comment about making a onesie from Nigel Farage’s skin did mean skinning him alive and wearing it, leaving some nonplussed expressions, their album, released at the end of the month will be killer.

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Orchard

St Christopher are perhaps one of the city’s best kept secrets, not least of all because of the infrequency of their live outings. This is their only one of 2025. They’ve been going since 1984 and have had releases on legendary labels including Sarah Records. They play solid indie / alternative rock with close harmonies. Their 80s background is evident, and that’s a positive. They’re incredibly tight and assured, with a really full sound. They may not have released anything in a while, and may not have attained quite cult status… yet, but as also rans who are still running, there’s time yet.

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St Christopher

All Ashore pack five bodies onto the little stage and bring some uptempo, vaguely twee late 80s / early 90s indie vibes. They’ve obviously put some co-ordination and consideration into their outfits, and they’ve got some very bouncy friends along who make for a lively front row.

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All Ashore

Not that Knitting Circle struggle to land gigs, but if you want to play more, one simple solution is to put them on yourself. Knitting Circle are dependably good. Since the departure of vocalist and multi-instrumentalist Jamie, who penned a number of their songs, things are inevitable different, but reconfiguring as a purely guitar-based trio has forced them to really home in on their focus. Guitarist Pete plays with no pedals, serving up a clean, crisp, choppy sound. ‘Fox’ is a standout in a set that’s consistent and tight, sounding more than ever like Gang of Four crossed with Shellac. As ever, ‘Safe Routes’ is powerful and moving. We need peace. We need humanity. If only this room was a microcosm of the world.

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Knitting Circle

Mammoth Penguins serve up a set of tight indie with hints of US influence, alt rock with a dash of country. Another power trio, they serve up a chunky sound which provides the bed for some narrative lyrics. Said lyrics aren’t always slick or poetic, but they’re real life, and they’re a ban which grow on you as the set progresses. By the end of the set, they’d won over the entire room by virtue of their sheer quality.

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Mammoth Penguins

Tonight’s lineup was perhaps the most diverse and unpredictable of the Utterly Fuzzled series to date, but the mixed bag nature, when coupled with the warm atmosphere – and cheap beer – really made it something special, something akin to listening to an episode of John Peel. You might not love all it, but the quality is undeniable, and you know you’ll discover at least one new act you dig. It’s everything that’s missing from music lately. And it’s so, so much fun, restoring faith in humanity, and uplifting in every way.

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