SHEFFIELD, UK – FLOAT ALONG’S PATERNOSTER EFFECT LIFTS SPIRITS

01/10/202215/10/2022 | Just The Type

If you’ve ever searched for the top ‘must-do’ things in Sheffield, you will have come across its beloved Paternoster elevator – an endless rotation of carriages moving between the floors of the University’s Arts Tower. But the historic landmark isn’t the only way to experience the heights of all that can be discovered in the Steel City. Taking over the Moor Market end of town, this year’s inaugural Float Along all-day event hosted by live music promoters Strange Days, offered its own non-stop line-up of performance and conversation. Alongside Katy J Pearson, W.H.Lung, Warmduscher, Los Bitchos, Strawberry Guy and Steve Lamacq, here are eight emerging musical highlights from around the UK whose sets marked them out as well-worth hopping onto…

NOON GARDEN @ Sidney & Matilda

Keeping his cool, Charles Prest is in his element. With the bunting lining the tiny basement stage the only protection between the former Flamingods member and the early birds who are piling into the space to catch a glimpse of one of the festival’s opening acts (think the classic shrinking room scene in the original Charlie & The Chocolate Factory), his eyes are closed to block out any distraction whilst delivering poetic rhyming couplets and wah guitar dances about the clicks from his side-kick drum machine. Meandering through a set of glitchy patterns and cosmic nu-psych, the vibe floats along with the positive wisdom and mellow surf of a one-man Tame Impala.

ALICE LOW @ Record Junkee

Alice Low is stalling. “This is the bit I hate,” she says hesitantly with a wry smile whilst introducing the final number of her set, “it’s 15 minutes long.” Wiping strands of blonde hair away from the microphone, there is a momentary pause for breath before the acoustic guitar recording of ‘Ladydaddy’ signals the start of her swan song. A cowboy porch song duet in one, she prowls the stage witch-like, wrapped in a raven-hued satin slip and no stranger to transition, gleefully moves from falsetto to dog barks as each vocal character is brought to life like a fairy-tale delivered by Adam Green and Alex Cameron. Elsewhere squelchy toytown pop meets haunting John Maus style echo via Sparks-like artful delivery as she proudly wears lyrical meaning on bare shoulders; singing about life as it exists with little room for interpretation. Moving through the crowd Alice appears to make a grand exit, and chest up strides towards the back of the room until reappearing as a ghostly apparition, grabbing an innocent lamp from the merch stand and upturning it under her chin to emphasise the skeletal shadows of a Van Gogh Scream face grimace. “My parents are proud of me,” Alice smirks, during the set. The audience response? Woops of delight. Them too.

REGRESSIVE LEFT @ Record Junkee

Everything about Regressive Left suggests they want to make you dance. A trio apparently beamed in from another space and time but performing with the kind of jarring contemporary squall Squid might serve up for snacks, their Northern Soul V-neck sweaters and wide leg pants are perfectly suited to their knee-jerking LCD Soundsystem grooves and vocal acrobatics. Performing their first Sheffield show since recording the fittingly titled Wrong Side of History EP with producer Ross Orton (Working Mens Club, Fat White Family), singer Simon‘s 80s pop croon (think the unaffected lament of Talk Talk’s Mark Hollis) is complemented by the calls of drummer Georgia and between wobbly SFX he upturns the microphone stand mere inches from taking out the ceiling lights to knock the ball out of the dark.

O. @ Network

Ostentatious. Ominous. Out there. Whatever their name stands for, this duo is anything but Ordinary. With the raw power of a jazzed up White Stripes, both room and chests rumble to every beat as drummer Tash Keary whips up the thunder for the storm of grimy low squelches from her bandmate Joe Henwood’s earthy Baritone Sax. Panel capped with sax straps, like a python charming Super Mario in trouser braces, his blasts are manipulated with the force to tear a gateway to hell and heave fuel onto an incendiary mix of avant-garde metal, worldly techno and minimalism. Whilst initially appearing to be the role reversal of New Zealand duo Party Dozen who cause revellers to dance with free spirit, O. are a heftier beast. “It’s quality, not quantity,” Joe insists to the select audience of head-nodders, alluding to the crowd-size when really, it could just as easily be a sign for things to come.

YOUTH SECTOR @ Record Junkee

Proving silly and serious can work simultaneously, Youth Sector are sewing up – like the tacked stitches of their DEVO matchy-matchy triangle-collared seventies untailored suits – impeccably tight stomping disco-funk threads where Talking Heads, The Vapors, and OK Go meet. As synth player Harvey wiggles on an invisible surfboard, lead singer Nick’s eyes dart back and forth between the ceiling and stage sidelines before ending the song with a “Thangyouverymuch” in pseudo-American accent. Between numerous name drops (fine when it’s your own band name), the punchy 5-piece deliver angular breakneck stompers from their EP Adult Contemporary with enough rubber-band bounce to displace the paint from the venue’s black box – the Maximo Park punch of ‘Is Blood’ being a tearaway highlight before Nick introduces a new song with a few choice words of wisdom; “Life is a hill were all rolling down,” he declares.

SALOON DION @ Record Junkee

It’s tricky for shouty bands from Bristol to prove themselves these days but Saloon Dion pays no mind to the Idles effect and with a defiant boot resting on the stage monitor, singer Dave Sturgess and co are marking the 5-piece’s way as one of Bristol’s latest bands whose bark is worse than their bite. With shared duties of front person, the band spit through Pistols punk and ferocious funk, but not until they’ve learned the names “of all 6 of you” in the audience before them – apart from pal Katy J Pearson and crew who have shown up to offer their support. But whilst the rest of Sheffield have gathered to watch the evening’s headliners elsewhere, their loss is this small audience’s gain with an explosive set of tension release, marked by drummer-turned pirate for the night, Ben Molyneux’s spontaneous instruction, “Everyone say ‘arggghh.’” Beyond their beanies, Saloon Dion’s set nestles stomping start-stoppers where instrumentals abruptly halt and make way for angsty calls to arms.

FAKE TURINS @ Sidney & Matilda

With the dramatic fusion of a psychedelic David Attenborough documentary soundtrack, it’s impossible to know where to look as this 11-piece collective cram themselves and their idiosyncratic mix of sax, clarinet, drums, guitar, floor tom, synths, and the kitchen sink – not to mention countless wires snaking about the floor – onto the stage of this small basement. The speakers appear to have sprouted fingers which dance about a synth like Thing Addams on hot keys whilst an invisible force at the back of the stage wields the neck of a guitar in and out of the darkness. Suited and booted in marshmallow-pink, to lead their own eclectic pick ’n’ mix, singer Dominic heads up the cacophony with a lounging mix of James Murphy falsetto and downbeat spoken word, complimenting the percussive session rhythms and funk grooves for a surprisingly coherent collection of sounds.

EADES @ Record Junkee

“I don’t know where to breathe in that song,” confesses Eades’ singer and guitarist, Harry, having removed his yellow gilet in preparation for hurtling through the band’s high-octane new track ‘Liquid Gold.’ Whilst their cap and dungarees would suggest end-of-shift antics after working at their local auto repair shop, what the Leeds 5-piece have truly been working up is a sweat as they race their way through 100 mph jagged garage-rock stompers. With a penchant for the raw crunch of Parquet Courts’ angular momentum and joyfully switching positions like The Strokes’ scamp-like younger cousins, eventually one microphone gives way under the vibrations, forcing singers Harry and Tom to move towards each other Libertines style around one mic. Earlier stage pals Saloon Dion and friends who are bouncing around before them swiftly come to rescue and prop it back up. Controlled chaos that only occasionally comes up for air.

BRIGHTON, UK – A GREAT EUROVISION ESCAPE

22/05/202215/10/2022 | Just The Type

The Eurovision Song Contest might have its own legion of followers, but you don’t have to look further than Brighton’s The Great Escape festival for international appeal. Taking over the seaside on the very same weekend, the annual event’s line-up serves up a Continental as fine as it does fish ’n’ chips and 2022’s event was no exception. Amongst 185 international acts on the bill, here are some choice artists (in no particular order) who ensured their busman’s holiday was well worth every mile travelled.

BRIMHEIM (Faroe Islands via Denmark) @ Waterbear Venue

Don’t let the pearls and prairie dress fool you; Helena Rebensdorff means business. “Ok, can we get started now?” she asks the back of the room, teeth gripping the pick between her lips, as bodies continue to pile in and plug the gaps of an already at capacity audience. With the answer affirmative and her four band mates nestled into the archway behind her, they launch into tracks from her frank album can’t hate myself into a different shape: each one a delicate unfurling of the truth. Stripped back intros lure listeners into a false sense of security before anthemic blasts of synth and guitar-fuelled shimmer. Making way for a simple vocal, her voice soars impeccably with vulnerability in its wake; embittered with Sharon Van Etten disdain, she is disappointed in you, herself and the world around her, under scathing Este Haim grimace. Placing her instrument aside for elegant highlight ‘baleen’ feeder’ she sings, “I wish I didn’t care what you think of me,” her hands playing at her body, hinting at its meaning. It’s fitting “Brimheim” means ‘home of the breaking waves’; her first UK show ever, just metres from the ocean, might be uncharted waters but this afternoon she has transformed this beachside cavern into a new home on the range.

JAYWOOD (Canada) @ Green Door Store

With guitar worn high on his hip and Looney Tunes Space Jam t-shirt the uniform of choice, this afternoon, with 3-piece band in tow, Jay is playing feel-good cosmic jams of his own; alternative funk pop melodies flowing with danceable grooves and pounding bass from his forthcoming Captured Tracks LP. Like dreamily mellow affirmations of positivity glimmering within the dark, “This is brand spanking new,” he introduces of uplifting soul-funk number ‘Just saying.’ Guitar down and ringleading the Canada House audience in a singalong; his percussive set overflows with the warmth of Toro Y Moi summoning the summer, emitting uplifting festival vibes – even if his hometown of Winnipeg couldn’t be further from Brighton beach. “We’re from the prairies, our roads are fucking trashed don’t come,” he jests by way of respect for his newfound audience. “You guys have the fucking ocean, why would you ever leave?” Banter, like the songs, is strong; Canada quite literally is in the house and even inside, the sun is shining.

PARTY DOZEN (Australia) @ Komedia Basement

Whatever you do, don’t look saxophonist Kirsty Tickle in the eye. Her mouth may be preoccupied with another blast on the horn hanging around her neck, but head and gaze are the source of encouragement as her urgent nods and po-go bounce swiftly gee up those braving the front row. Like a punked-up snake charmer unleashing a tirade of pent-up stress relief, she loops squelch with an array of pedal effects before tilting the sax sideways and wailing down its bell, causing distorted vocals to escape like a manic megaphone. Behind her, percussionist Jonathan Boulet thrashes away on drums and, almost drowning out the hefty industrial chinks and throbbing bass of the Viagra Boys meets Zombie Zombie krautrock style backing track, the pair playfully call En Garde in a sonic duel without words, each frantically cranking up the dial whilst trying to catch the other out. With just two members on stage it could be the most exclusive social gathering ever, and yet, everyone’s invited.

JOHN MOODS (Germany) @ Patterns Upstairs

John Moods’ work here is done. Not because the smell of BBQed frankfurters in the air or the empty boozy miniatures and bottle tops strewn about the tables suggest a well-thrown Zeitgeist German showcase party; it’s that every single face about the room is sickeningly smacked with the glee of a kid at Christmas. Satisfied with his labour – a set of dreamy, romantic ballads and good vibes sung whilst bouncing between the light vocal harmonies and flute of his Mood-setting colleagues – he declares “Now for the announcements,” whilst unwrapping a scroll of paper like a town crier without a bell. After notices about his new album, merchandise and messages of thanks, John drops off the low stage and roams about the audience for one final scout around under the venue’s upturned UFO shaped silver canopy. Looking everyone in the eye with appreciation, the aftermath of a party it’s not, but a soothing treat for the last ones standing. Mood by name, mood by nature.

BUDJERAH (Australia) @ Prince Albert

More storyteller than songwriter, there’s something incredibly enchanting and impressive about how Budjerah can silence the usual chatter of a Great Escape venue. The evening crowd are hung on his every word which is sung as well as spoken; each breath is a soulful vocal drawn from the inside looking out. Between the brave opening cover of Sam Cooke’s ‘A Change Is Gonna Come’, and original song ‘Missing You’ about the time he missed friends after dropping out of school in pursuit of a record deal, he shares proud stories of his indigenous roots, songwriting partners back home, and musical influences (namely D’Angelo and Amy Winehouse who played London’s Jazz Cafe where he recently “got to perform”). Serenading the audience with his own reworking of an Ed Sheeran song, he politely gestures to his hand-painted guitar which depicts the story of his own life from his upbringing in church and love of soul music to the meaning of its “fish” representing his original song “My Name.” Don’t forget this one.

A.O. GERBER (USA) @ The Mucky Duck

Friday 13th was always going to rear its ugly head in unexpected ways. For A.O. Gerber, it’s the sticky keys on her keyboard which are causing problems. Most might quit, but smiling through, she confesses and moves on with an inspired method of distraction. “Have you all met my sound tech Phoebe?” She gestures right. “Everyone say hello!” Phoebe waves and between the pillars in this small pub, A.O. continues to perform an intimate set of meandering songs from her debut album Another Place To Need. Despite the Open Mic setting, with tables moved out to make space for the day-long Hand In Hive / Sub Pop showcase, ‘In The Morning’ is beautifully heartbreaking (“Wish I could drown this fucking heart of mine”), ‘Tell Me’ is a hauntingly delicate acoustic ballad bringing to mind Angel Olsen, and A.O. ‘s simple, less-is-more fusion of guitar with keys and Casio style drum beats brings to mind the DIY ethos of a less weird Tickley Feather. The songs are confessional, as from a cathartic need to be written and performed, lending themselves to a personal portrait of an artist who writes in solitude from within the confines of her home. It’s a set proving that frustration is often better out than in.

HATIS NOIT (Japan) @ St Mary’s Church

Call it witchcraft or hypnosis, Hatis Noit knows how to cast a magic spell. Tonight, mobile phones are silenced, and standing tall, a Bjork-like resemblance of a beating heart in red dress, matching unicorn horns nosepiece, and gently holding a colour-coordinated microphone, Hatis is a scarlet sorcerer summoning the outside elements as her operatic chants of layered Gregorian vocals rise above a backing soundtrack of waves and seagulls. Singing in Japanese, her songs convey joy and the emotion of triumph over tragedy, particularly when referring to the Tsunami which caused a nuclear power plant disaster for families in her hometown. Haunting, it resonates among the church pews meeting stunned silence as she gracefully delivers her message to the heavens for any angels listening in. Her delivery is disciplined, rising above motorbikes rumbling outside, a phone dropping between in pews at her most a cappella moment, and even when a ghostly piano and choir of male voices from next door resound to steal the limelight. “Thank you for having us,” she beams, perhaps alluding to the many layers of her vocal personalities.

GRACE CUMMINGS (Australia) @ Komedia Basement

Watching Grace Cummings is a transcendent experience. With a roar as though rising from the depths of Laurel Canyon itself, the hefty tones of fellow Grace (Slick), Janis Joplin wail and contemporary rasp of Brittany Howard with Stones and Zeppelin Classic rock ferocity, this afternoon’s audience is being transported to the 1970s. With lyrical licks about leaves and cowboys, it’s a powerfully driven ride across a wild and free natural landscape which spirals off into the sonic abrasion of her denim clad band members whose separate parts instinctively meander together. “Are you ready?” she asks, her satin shirt shimmering under the spotlight. “Yeah!” exclaims a voice from the sound desk, confirming the techs are strapped in for the ride. “Thanks for giving time to an unwanted instrument,” Grace tells the crowd by way of an introduction, possibly referring to the opening number’s use of keyboard which remains redundant for the set remainder, in favour of a storm of spiralling guitars around her. ‘Heaven’ is a closing call to arms; with a low growl of “Ave Maria ” and shimmering percussion, the band play out the final bar over and over ten times or more giving an age-old saying, new life.

KRAPKA;KOMA (Ukraine) @ Zahara

“Everyone knows what’s happening, and what our songs are about,” quietly intones Alona Kovalenko (Koma), sitting conspicuously between keys and drum pads in her monochrome trouser suit. To her right, Ira Lobanok (Krapka) assesses the crowd, in equally eye-catching electric blue, from behind the shield of her open laptop. “We are proud to be the voice of our country at this Great Escape.” A multi-instrumental electronic duo from Lviv, it’s not surprising to see, under the neon rainbow strip lights of this basement, a room full of those showing their support to the only Ukrainian band performing at this year’s event. Despite technical issues enforcing a 30-minute delay and a painstakingly gaffa-taped backdrop giving up mid-set, the pair – alongside visual artist Becky-Boo (who, side of stage, occasionally turns her head to pull faces at crowd whilst conducting projections of crashing waves and flickering faces behind the duo), and vocalist Pixi Ink – treat the audience to some dreamy downtempo magic. To use their namesake (“semicolon” in English); it’s a colourful, glitchy and trippy set of soothing electropop soundscapes hinting at the free Jazz of their backgrounds. A tote bag bearing the flag of their country hangs from the table with the words Good evening, we are from Ukraine in their native language. It’s perfect product placement for a good evening indeed.*

NAYA ALI (Canada) @ Green Door Store

If the world was about to end, Naya Ali would be the one to save it. “Alright, let’s keep the shizz going,” she declares through her grill, before turning towards her beats-maker sidekick to check he’s good to go. Launching into a rap attack of positivity, the long straps of her Mission Impossible style dungarees swing behind her as she bounces stealth-like – a graceful robber or the superhero to rescue us. Her Marvel name? Ali – to mean “elevated”. Her weapon of choice? Rhymes of supersonic flow, and as her trusty sidekick waves his arms around to the glitchy electro, boom bap and trap underneath, the crowd bounce along with hands in the air. Unscrewing the cap from her water bottle and tossing it aside (“I’ll get it later!”) she asks, “how you all doing tonight?” before suddenly remembering it is only 3pm in the afternoon. “Hey, we’re in a cave!” she exclaims of Green Door’s nocturnal vibes. Laughter ensues and with everyone on side, the MC unleashes her final tactic for preventing Armageddon; meditation. Everyone closes their eyes; the frantic strobe and house lights are plunged into darkness and alongside wobbly atmospherics Ali delivers a poetic vision posing one simple question; to reach your goals do you fight with the snakes or accept them and keep walking? Not all heroes wear capes.

HIGHSCHOOL (Australia) @ Folklore, The Quadrant

It’s only a matter of time before Brandon Flowers discovers Australian band, HighSchool. With a knack for a synth melody like The Killers’ showman himself, danceable guitar riffs à la the now sadly defunct Finnish band French Films, careening Drums-like whimsy, mellow surf numbers with Smiths-like charm, and New Order danceability, their indie hearts firmly rest on their narrow vest top sleeves. But crammed into the corner of this upstairs pub, this is a band whose highly hung guitar melodies proudly glimmer with romantic sheen. There’s little talk, preferring to let the music do the self-loathing (or perhaps exhaustion is setting in from previous official shows of the day) but as the crowd bobs along and vocalist and songwriter Rory Trobbiani does his best running man arms on the spot alongside sister Lilli on keys and bassist Luke, everything is just fine. “This is a new song for Ivan,” he tells of the newest member to join the band. Clearly Ivan’s getting into the swing of it; as Rory repeatedly sings “it was only a dream,” Ivan makes his way to the top of the amp and whatever the fantasy was, feels like it could become reality.

BALMING TIGER (South Korea) @ Folklore, The Quadrant

It’s impossible to know where to look at the chaos unfolding in this unsuspecting pub corner on North Street. Wearing turd brown tracksuits which offset spectacularly elevated levels of spirit, one band member of this 6-piece collective clutches a soft toy cat and pounds upon the stage with her fist whilst upside down headbanging. Another has possibly had one too many and with half-closed eyes, steadies himself on the banister beside him. Their leader, with jalapeño buzz cut spits out alternative hip-hop rhymes about social media misuse (‘I’m Sick’) and trusting yourself. With too many members to fit on this small stage, the socially conscious band spill to the floor. Moving to every beat like a synchronised swim group on dry land, the troupe bounce in a moving circle before the song transforms into a ballad. It’s all captured by another member, on his compact handheld video camera. “We are the alternative K-pop band, love is our mission,” their singer exclaims before set highlight ‘Kolo Kolo’; an enthusiastic back and forth of “Hakuna Matata” with the audience.

Honourable mentions: Kills Birds (USA), Unschooling (France), Roller Derby (Germany), Bad Waitress (Canada), The Bobby Tenderloin Universe (USA)…

*Support Ukrainian creatives – Artery is a free job platform helping displaced Ukrainian music professionals fleeing war, find jobs they love in great teams. Visit the site if you’re an employer looking for talent, or a displaced professional looking for a way to share your talent.

MANCHESTER, UK – COME ONE, COME ALL: JOHN HALL’S GROOVY BALL

03/08/202115/10/2022 | Just The Type

“…so when you get drunk Wilson, and you reminisce of the Hacienda, be told with a beautiful story of your own proper John Hall bender.“

– Leon The Pig Farmer

John Hall is missing. Scan the faces assembled by the stage and nowhere within his usual 4-feet-from-the-front can today’s man of the moment be seen. It’s late afternoon at Manchester’s Ritz where already, a wide-eyed gang of his groovy friends and acquaintances are uniting for a gala celebration and musical fundraiser marking his existence. Of John I know little; our paths first crossed in the snug of Salford’s Eagle Inn. He’d taken a liking to a friend’s socks and since then has been the guy with a grin on his face, panning his camera back and forth from artist to audience whilst filming the scenes unfolding before him (and sharing the gig footage online for fellow revelers to see). Today is a celebration of life and music in John’s honour and, like a Marvel comic power-huddle uniting the forces of his favourite musical friends met in sweaty mosh pits along the way, it’s now from the balcony where he watches. Below, legions of guests gather to revel in a bash to behold, like Capote’s Black & White masquerade ball had it been held in Manchester. Only without (pandemic-precautionary!) face masks, where rainbow is the colour, and everyone’s invited.

“oo’s missed discos?” booms a bold northern accent down the microphone. Loose Articles don’t ask questions; they demand answers, and in no time at all the audience respond to their interrogation as the local 4-piece punch through a set of X-Ray Spex style post-punk stompers, transforming the venue’s basement into their own euphoric dungeon. Doused in traffic-light hues giving each member a green-red aura, their bratty B-52’s-meets-Bis bounce, Cramps-like shrieks and whistles blown unleash their own torrid tales of grievances including a trundling bassline fuelled by the familiar frustration of the 142 bus route. ‘Chaos’ captures the party atmosphere as the band disappear from view among an increasing number of bobbing heads, almost censoring Natalie‘s beaded flame-print leotard which later, outside, catches the eye of a bouncer who chuckles with the humour intended.

Having been cooped up too long has much to answer for; it seems walking stick waving is the newest demonstration of live music appreciation as Cheshire trio Déjà Vega take to the stage. Crooked handles aloft as though a gang of rogue geriatrics have fought their way to the front, a pair of crutches happily dance in the air, bouncing each riff back to the band. Bassist Mike’s left knee wobbles, almost powering their Diiv-like propulsion as singer Jack roams the stage denting a cowbell. There are fewer stomped-out stage patterns as Liverpool’s The Mysterines thrust their metal-lite grunge upon the crowd, but singer Lia’s understated delivery allows her game face and songwriting to do the talking. “It’s always the same, life’s a bitch” she rasps in her hauntingly low register whilst taking out the tension on a battered guitar. Under red light, the band tease further tracks from their forthcoming debut album and show confidence as they embrace their heftier side, choosing to filter out lighter hits from their set like recent single ‘Take Control’.

Now performing as a 6-piece, The Blinders’ familiar opener ‘Gotta Get Through’ launches the expanded collective’s amped-up set, only witnessed so far as a stripped-back Lounge Lizard session. Latest LP Fantasies Of A Stay At Home Psychopath is interspersed with old favourites ‘ICB Blues’ and ‘Brave New World,’ with the meatier sound resonating as a band having found their stride. Some intricacies such as the shimmering tambourine of percussionist Paris and added guitar are inevitably lost within the traditional vista, but overall it’s a welcome return. “Shut the fuck up,” frontman Thomas hushes to an over-enthusiastic audience, indicating something important about to happen as the band themselves step away from their instruments, leaving just keys player Johnny to accompany ‘Circle Song’. “I’m thinking, I’m thinking some, how the hero always dies young” is poignant as the lyrics are delivered towards the balcony blurring all else into the background. Picking up pace, a couple twirl each other unsteadily among plastic cups at their feet as the gloomy ‘Black Glass’ moves towards its dramatic climax, and Document bassist Max steps forth on harmonica for a rousing ‘Rat in a Cage’.

Hovering in the wings, Dave Haslam watches on before positioning himself at the decks for the night’s latest DJ set. Earlier, psychedelic scholars Astral Elevator, plus Jason Boardman and Jeff O’Toole took to the helm and now, in his Modern Lovers t-shirt, Dave steps up to flip through his CD wallet having famously bid farewell to his vinyl collection a few years earlier. Turning up the gain on bangers beginning with The Fall and Iggy Pop, a small group of Sunday night pleasure seekers force the venue’s sprung dancefloor to work overtime.

Also hard workers, Chadderton’s Dirty Laces open their own set with intent; “If you’ve not seen us before, you have now” tells singer Charlie, because there’s no time left at the end. “We’re halfway through but have just one song left”, he warns before the band plunge into the early Verve guitar sprawl and classic 70s rock refrains of 7-minute epic ‘You’. Hair now released from its scrunchie and stuck to his face, he steps down to join the front row and makes way for his bandmates’ instrumental outro. Upstairs however, it’s all about Intros. Tonight isn’t a politics party but the bard of Cabbage known as Leon The Pig Farmer is raising his own toast for our musical champion; “So deck the halls with Johnny, make your own hall of fame, make your own Lesser Free Trade Hall, be like John, don’t be the same, so let’s gather the reverb nation, applaud on all four walls, mark my words with appreciation and raise a glass for mister John Hall.”

“Life’s changed dramatically and yet it remains the same” offers Cabbage co-frontman Lee as a long-awaited live welcome whilst teetering on the stage edge. Delivering a high-energy set of delightfully grotesque anthems from latest album Amanita Pantherina including angular songs about Jeremy Corbyn and for the second time this evening, transport-inspired woes (this time it’s trains), a swaggering Leon returns and the band recall their own story of meeting mister Hall during Cabbage’s earlier incarnation. “John spied me, he said ‘You gotta be in a band, what you called?’ His response to the initial band name? “Oooh, do you want some psychedelic drugs?” and The Ritz descends into rapturous laughter and applause.

Leaving the night on perhaps an even bigger high, headliners Peter Hook & The Light briefly lure the man of the moment, or rather, an enthusiastic waving groovy arm, from the balcony for all to see. Cradling his low-slung bass with typically wide power-stance, ‘Hooky’ and co deliver a hefty Joy Division set featuring John’s ‘favourite song’ ‘Novelty’, an electrifying audience sing-along of ‘Love Will Tear Us Apart’ and, casting a light from the shadows of a tough year, ‘Atmosphere’ is dedicated to “all those not lucky enough to be here tonight”. But that’s life; it is tough, and the set serves a stark reminder that whilst there will be a time when we no longer see John in the crowd, rest assured our lovable music-lauding laureate will still be around somewhere; perhaps getting a good angle, making more friends from strangers, or even admiring another great pair of socks.

>> Concert For John has raised over £10,000 so far, kick-starting the charity John plans to establish for assisting grassroots musicians at the start of their careers. Current plans include providing free, clean, rehearsal space in Manchester. Check back soon and a link will be added here for how you can support the cause.

NEW YORK & PENNSYLVANIA, USA – FONTAINES D.C. STORM THE EAST COAST

14/09/201915/10/2022 | Just The Type

“I wanted real adventure to happen to myself. But real adventures, I reflected, do not happen to people who remain at home: they must be sought abroad.”
James Joyce – An Encounter, Dubliners

The eyeballs of Fontaines D.C.’s Grian Chatten are fixed towards the ceiling. You can hardly blame him. It’s a typical November night in Brooklyn – in September. Just days before, Hurricane Dorian was hugging the south-eastern coastline and nudging ever closer to New York City; its path an unpredictable whirlwind leaving only chaos and destruction behind. All day, the Music Hall of Williamsburg has been hammered by inclement showers and bracing gusts so tonight, as the Dublin 5-piece take to its stage, there’s a very real threat of “tearing down the plaster” as Grian delivers ‘Hurricane Laughter’; stoking the storm’s eye with their turbulent tones and enough stabs of sonic distortion to leave Mother Nature herself recoiling in its wake.

It’s the opening night of Fontaines D.C.’s month-long, debut North American headline tour and the next phase of the band’s explosive trajectory. Following an emergency culling of their festival appearances since returning to the UK after a momentous SXSW in Austin, Texas and the release of their Mercury-nominated debut album Dogrel, they’re now reaping the benefits of having had a brief well-earned rest. As the thick brogue of Luke Kelly delivering his poem ‘For What Died The Sons Of Róisín?’ resounds through the speakers, the band are called to the stage and with a simple “Good to see you,” tonight’s sold out crowd brace themselves for lashings of frenetic noise that ricochets off every bolthole.

Whipping the congregation into a frenzy through an aggravated release of poetic sermons, Grian blesses each audience member with his gaze and as the tension mounts, they become euphoric. Geeing up the crowd, he wrings his wrists and paces back and forth with controlled convulsions. ‘Too Real’ sees a schizophrenic transformation in the pit from appreciative to cataclysmic, as the mass surge to the left. Phones are hung on to* and stances widened as Grian dons a Peaky Blinders style flat cap likening him to a Victorian baker boy in his shirt-slacks combo. Meanwhile, guitarist Carlos O’Connell launches himself into the crowd; kick-starting a domino effect of fans hurling themselves off the stage and riding a wave into the shadows.

The lone stage-diver repeating such behaviour in Philadelphia the following evening could only hope for such a smooth ride. Part-way between a diner for locals and intimate burlesque theatre with its low red lighting and wooden interior, the second night’s venue is Johnny Brenda’s. Sitting in Fishtown on the corner of a bustling intersection, the city’s Saturday night suburb is neon lit like a 50s film noir. Opposite, late night coffee is being served at Joe’s where the din of the venue’s groups of men drinking into the early hours carries across the street. Commotion and layers of half-conversations spill on to the sidewalk, fuelled by one, two or perhaps even five rounds of Boilermakers.

Upstairs the band have jumbled the previous night’s setlist and as they take to the venue’s corner stage, Grian greets the sea of faces at his feet and those scrutinising from the surrounding balcony with an awkward wave. At the rear of the stage hangs a velvet curtain, strung with what seems to be the clear plastic crystals from a cheap jewellery box, and the room is doused in UV light. Opening with ‘Television Screen,’ it’s an energised set; from the atmospherics of Carlos working the amp, extorting its feedback with each swing of his guitar and beer bottle string sliding, to the hefty punk beat laid down by drummer Tom Coll and Conor Deegan’s thundering bass. Tugging at his baggy stripes, Grian jerks as though to shake off any shred of lingering self-doubt and it’s intense, like watching a band fighting to escape the confines of a matchbox.

As ‘Liberty Belle’ rings out for what could be the city’s adopted anthem (the bell itself, a symbol of Philadelphia), a rogue reveller hugs the monitor at Grian’s feet and struggles with it as he crawls up on to the stage. Predicting what comes next, guitarist Conor Curley is on standby; wearing his white cowboy shirt with fringing and halfway holding out a hand to assist, he’s like Frankie Avalon in Grease’s ‘Beauty School Drop-out’ dream sequence coming to the rescue, until it’s too late. Rising from his knees, the unexpected visitor hurls himself across the room, head-first into the tiny venue’s supporting pillar – taking Grian’s microphone out in the process. The interruption is over as quickly as it begins and apart from a crafty lyrical edit nodding to the fact it happened, the band power on through.

The rest of the set is seamless; the blue hue pulses with the strobe effect of a Stranger Things electrical warning and the band are on fire. Whether over-compensating from the effects of a late night prior, or simply finding their stride, tonight is just better. Everything is wound tighter and cranked up a gear higher. Rubbing his face, banging his chest and dipping his hands deeper into his pockets as if to awaken himself, Grian’s pacing is most noticeable when contrasted by the band’s statuesque shredding. The most affecting moment is ‘Roy’s Tune’; a tender performance showing a band who can do beauty as well as they do brawn. ‘The Lotts’ is suitably gloomy, its spiralling 80s melancholia haunting through beautifully smoggy refrains and Grian breaks out the tambourine for electrifying new song ‘Televised Mind’ – a ferocious cyclone of rhythmic unravelling with dizzying wads of Orwellian dread.

Moving from one skyline to another, the Fontaines D.C. storm is ready to wreak havoc on its next location; both nights’ sets are just under the hour offering a short, sharp, shock from a rising band who pack one hell of a punch. Or to quote Philadelphia’s revered local hero Rocky Balboa, “The world ain’t all sunshine and rainbows…” but therein lies a damn good place to start.

*Not mine. It’s still in Brooklyn… somewhere. Big thanks to my gigging partner-in-crime, Denise, for sharing her pics!

LEEDS, YORKSHIRE – GOLD SOUNDS: A GOSPEL

18/05/201914/08/2021 | Just The Type

If you do the sums, Gold Sounds makes sense musically AND mathematically. 2 days, 2 stages, 24 acts (all hyped or rising and scheduled in consecutive clash-defying fashion) over 14 hours, for £35. That’s £1.45 per performance; nose-thumbing anyone who says, ‘you get what you pay for.’ So, whilst overlapping the same weekend as Brighton’s The Great Escape festival, the gospel of Gold Sounds proves why its annual takeover of the Brudenell Social Club is the North’s smart alternative:

1. Thou shalt embrace the party:

Contrary to their name, North Carolina rock’n’rollers The Nude Party are wearing shirts to match the Pantone colour scheme of a Disney Pixar parade. Their vibrant attire jumps from the Main Room’s shadows and at the Fender twang of ‘Feels Alright’, a burst of West Coast-tinged splendour spills from the stage. The freewheeling Dylanesque drawl of cautionary tale ‘Chevrolet Van’ trundles along and, like Allah La’s performing a sun-kissed ‘Sympathy for the Devil’, the 6-piece’s 60s psychedelic swirl is wise beyond their years. Party-starters indeed, the floor becomes a nodding, grinning, singalong. This much joy shouldn’t be allowed. Fuck the fun police. This band is as unapologetic as they are unGoogleable.

2. Thou shalt watch out for secret agents:

“My name’s Trixie, Trixie Whitley,” the singer responds, to an enthusiastic and curious crowd member. “It wasn’t my decision.” Excusing her name but nothing else, there’s far more than a hint of 007 about the Belgian artist who appears with a measured, inner strength and confidence. Striking at the strings of her guitar with her fingertips, the raw ferocity of her live set punches harder than her recordings. Inviting her drumming partner on stage, the pair pummel through with the jagged sneer of Skunk Anansie and PJ Harvey, before they swap positions and Trixie takes a seat at the drum kit. Returning to the guitar, she has barely broken a sweat but grimaces when her instrument bites back and slices at her fingers. Resilient, she fights on, leaving the crowd shaken and most definitely stirred.

3. Thou shalt applaud bare-chested boldness:

The temperature in the Main Room has hit meltdown. Working Men’s Club have thundered through 25 minutes of smart post-punk stompers and singer Syd is pulling out his signature Iggy moves to the beat of their New Order-meets-LCD Soundsystem finale, ‘Teeth’; shirtless, exploding with rage into the microphone and locked in a forehead battle with an unsuspecting member of the audience like the rhinoceros equivalent of an arm wrestle.

Shirtless is a seed Stockholm’s Viagra Boys have been sowing for some time. Displaying the impressively inked canvas of his half-naked chest, complete with gold chain and shades, frontman Sebastian commands the crowd to a bounce. Bongos and the squelching sax of songs from their Street Worms debut are as uplifting as the band’s name suggests and big hitter ‘Sports’ is knocked out of the park. “You could suck dick for heroin,” Sebastian suggests through the echo of his raspy deep Texan drawl. “There’s so many different sports you could try.”

4. Thou shalt brace oneself for an explosion of spontaneity:

“What’s your favourite Robbie Williams song?” Queen Zee asks, before heaving a Frank Sidebottom-sized horse head over his own painted face and sticking the microphone between its gnashers. The crowd has barely noticed. Bodies part as a mosh-pit ruptures the audience; a masked drummer pounds out a brutal beat and there’s head-banging, chanting, barging, toing and froing. Ringleader of their own circus of chaos, in torn Persil-white jeans whilst fiercely thrumming at the guitar that shields a sleeveless stars’n’stripes tee, Zee stalks the stage and yells to the high-octane fist-punch chorus of ‘Loner’ and grimy punk rock of ‘Sissy Fit.’ Unyielding with Sid Vicious spunk, it’s brutally sweet whilst exposing open wounds that run just as deep

5.Thou shalt find calm amongst the storm:

If there’s one thing alt-country 3-piece Ohtis have, it’s a knack for creating an atmosphere. Far from their Normal, Illinois home, songwriter Sam Swinson sips tea between songs (he tells us his voice is ‘shot from lack of sleep’ due to his time on the road) whilst stars of light bounce off the mirrorball and twirl across the dimly lit stage. Through half-spoken Adam Green intonation and the graceful bend of pedal steel guitar, it’s a gloriously sensitive set offering a refreshing antidote to toxic masculinity. They tell Dixie-twang tales of Sam’s stance on the devil and Jesus plus personal reflections of post-addiction recovery. Dedicating ‘Little Sister’ to his sibling who “turned out alright” and will be best man at his wedding, the audience is invited into Ohtis’ gentle and candid world.

6. Thou shalt sympathise with poor early-career decisions:

There’s a collective exhale of relief as Hand Habits take a pause between songs. “Use them for coasters or whatever,” the band’s singer Meg suggests whilst tuning a guitar and gesturing to the band-branded Frisbees on the merch stall. “It seemed a good idea at the time.” Lifting the mood between the ethereal simplicity of the band’s dreamy electric lullabies, Meg’s witty interludes and wry smiles run drier than a pile of wood-chippings but add charm to the intensity of the LA via NYC 3-piece’s performance. ‘What Lovers Do’ is doused with the sweeping sorrow of Angel Olsen vulnerability, it’s earnest like Big Thief, and on ‘Placeholder’ each instrument chimes with the soaring vocal delivery of Julia Jacklin.

Weakened Friends are heftier in melody but no less honest. The Portland, Maine trio admit that the pun of their name was a drunken mishap. “It sounded good but then we realised we’d have to spend the rest of our lives explaining it,” joke the housemates. With a casual jeans’n’tees aesthetic they’ve Marie Kondoed their punked-up choruses, offering a cleaner calamity to their bratty take on 90s throwback grunge. Like False Advertising with, at times, the vocal tenacity of Gwen Stefani in her 90s ska-punk heyday.

What both bands seemingly lack in entrepreneurial spirit, they more than make up for with a solid punch to the gut.

7. Thou shall embrace romantic revivals:

Lazy Days? Lucid Dream? Leeds District? Or something else? As their frontman wanders the stage in his Nike Airs with a hand in his pocket, there’s only guessing at why local post-punk outfit L.D. Moses have chosen their moniker. Creating a noose from his microphone lead, occasionally taking to the keyboard and joining the crowd for the band’s closing number, he bears a striking resemblance to a younger James Dean – if Hollywood’s tragic hero had a penchant for smoggy 80s sounds and sang, with the misery of The Cure’s Robert Smith. On ‘Close as the Ceiling,’ the guitars glisten and cymbals shimmer with a neo-noirish tone whilst a rhythmic, deadpan repetition of the words “It’s just a feeling” reveal the anxious hearts on their sleeves.

Scotland’s Lylo are one member down tonight (whose sleeves, we’re reliably informed, include well-worn cardigans) but they’re not letting that stop them. Offering up a danceable Talk Talk sound through Boomerangable running-man moves and borrowing the hip-swivels of Dutch Uncles’ Duncan Wallis. Their mellow grooves, fuelled by a swooning ice-cool sax, make them just one pair of wicker loafers away from finding themselves living it up in Rio with Duran Duran.

8. Thou shalt dance, dance, dance:

W.H. Lung have transformed the Brudenell’s Main Room into an enchanting Krautrock Under the Sea ceremony. Submerged in deep blue spotlights, arms flailing and bending knees that give rise to his turnups, frontman Joe looks like a rubber jellyfish limbering up for action. As summoning a shoal of space-rock disco fans to move to the band’s infectiously motorik beats, hypnotic mantra ‘Simpatico People’ is tribal and heads nod along to is static. Balancing on the tip of the stage, Joe keeps his gaze on the crowd and sways with arms aloft, channelling the bombastic command and showman spirit of Brandon Flowers, rendering resistance futile and earplugs completely useless.

Nothing is stopping Lumer either. With the rage and power of Idles, fellow Hull outfit LIFE, and the intonation of Protomartyr’s Joe Casey, bassist and singer Alex is pelvis-swirling with gusto to rival the swift moves of Bruce Lee who poses on his tee. Hurtling through an unfaltering set their rhythmic and ruthless energy runs on full charge until Alex collapses to the floor. Lying on his back in the wake of their destruction, resounding chants of “Yorkshire, Yorkshire” entwine with the sonic fuzz which hangs in the air.

9. Thou shalt seek refreshment and keep cool:

Riding into the Community Room on a hype wave from SXSW and freshly saltlicked from Brighton’s Great Escape a day earlier, the heat building around Montreal’s Pottery is borderline inferno. “Wait a minute,” commands guitarist, Jacob mid-song, signalling the band to dial the level down. He smirks, “It’s too damn fucking hot and I can’t breathe, I need some… Pepsi. Cola. Power!” Like a surgeon performing miracle surgery, he revives the thumping heart of the song’s final bars. Stance wide, and blonde bowl-cut shaking, the band power through an onslaught of gleefully messy call’n’response rock n roll. ‘Hank Williams’ fires off with all the best of Parquet Courts’ obtuse angles, the jagged stomp of The Modern Lovers, and works up a sweat on stage and off.

Hull 5-piece bdrmm should probably pace themselves. Opening Day 2’s proceedings, it’s unlikely they felt the fire of Pottery’s set with each member just a chord away from melting their own microphones. Originally the bedroom (or should that be bdrmm?) project of songwriter Ryan, who is wearing a bobble hat, each member rocks back and forth, hammering away at their instruments in their own hypnotic worlds. Fortunately, perspiration allows the majestic soundscapes to seep from the band’s soul. Like DIIV having a sonic stand-off with Mogwai, each number explodes and builds from shoegazing to a monstrous barrage of noise with enough friction to cause third-degree burns.

10. Thou shalt share an appreciation for baked goods:

There’s a resounding cheer for Linnea Siggelkow and her band but they haven’t yet played a note. Hailing from Toronto, it may be the first UK tour for Ellis, but they have already unlocked the secret to northern music fans’ energy levels and happiness. “I’ve discovered Greggs,” the band’s singer confesses. With that, the entire room rests in the palm of her hand. The warm husky tones of ethereal heartbreak fill the room and just like a third act, when the protagonist changes their mind 20 minutes before the ending, each song is full of hope, uncertainty and vanquishing all that’s gone before. Swaying to its beat, ‘Something Blue’sparkles with the glittery haze of Mazzy Star melancholy whilst ‘The Fuzz’ swells to the driven crescendo of a dreamy wig-out of smashing cymbals, synths, bass and wailing guitar.

Also appearing: The Blinders, Pip Blom, Fat White Family, Pigs Pig Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs, Emerson Snowe, Harkin, The Beths, Alex Lahey, Sistertalk.

AUSTIN, TEXAS – SXSW 2019: 10 TOP SETS

25/03/201914/08/2021 | Just The Type

Returning from SXSW there’s only ever one question; ‘which band was the best?’ After taking some time to reflect (and sleep!) it’s without doubt, this year, the charge was led by British bands… so instead of choosing the best acts of the week, here’s 10 killer sets from around the world that made this year’s trip to “The Lone Star State” so great…

Amyl and the Sniffers – Thrasher x Vans: Death Match @ Weather Up

There’s a storm brewing at Weather Up. On the edge of town, a good ten blocks from the downtown action, chaos has erupted and the pit of colliding human-sized atoms bouncing off each other are being rewarded for their eneavour to one of South-by’s most easterly venues. Call it rage, a tantrum or simple flip out, singer Amy Taylor knows how to summon a storm. Her bandmates create a relentless tirade of 110mph rapturous punk-rock as ignited by the spirit of Johnny Ramone and swilled down with a vodka-infused Gatorade chaser. Yelping in her Aussie twang, “I’m not a loser!” Amy grins as she sings with a mischievous glint in the eye. There’s some chat about poppers, the moshing becomes a scrappy swirl, dust clouds tan the revellers and just like Debbi Harry with the sass and savvy of a guttersnipe alley cat, she launches herself upon the crowd and rides their arms on one giant wave of enthusiasm – a solid celebration from the newest queen of punk-rock, positioning this band as the best kind of SXS-mess.

Ratboys – Stereogum Range Life @ Cheer Up Charlies (Outdoor Stage)

They say you can take a band from its hometown but can’t take the hometown out of the band. And as the clouds gather above the swinging canopy which is gradually picking up momentum over Cheer Up Charlie’s outdoor stage you can’t help but think, from their on-stage attire, Chicago’s Ratboys are right to be tuned to the climes of their Windy City. Standing centre-stage, singer Julia Steiner occasionally glances up to the sky from under the fold of her Chicago Bears beanie and seemingly gives a few knowing smiles to partner-in-rhyme Dave Sagan and the Ratboys live band, before they launch into a rollicking set of honest songs about toxic friendships and taxing relationships from their latest GL (Good Luck) EP. Emitting sweetness through summery strumming, gauzy choruses swell from alt country undertones and offer a hit of serotonin through the grey of the day; fresh, like the packs of free Stereogum gum being handed around the crowd.

Art d’Ecco – Desert Daze + Ritual Events @ Hotel Vegas (Inside Stage)

Apostrophe placement has been a hot topic this week. From The Beths’ Jonathan Pearce talking about spelling of ‘y’all’ to Liverpool’s Her’s declaring at the Brooklyn Vegan party they “know it’s grammatically wrong, but don’t care.” Fellow apostrophe rogues Art d’Ecco are a figment of Lynchian subconscious and the most glamorous of punk-rock dreams. Hailing from the Pacific Northwest, the Hotel Vegas back room is dwarfed by their super-sized Bolan-esque tones and spiky starboy synths. Hook-laden stompers brim with Patrick Wolf pop majesty, Gossip shimmer and Public Access TV indie rock sensibility. That the singer looks immaculate with a raven bob framing porcelain sky-high cheek bones, bold colour to the eyes and lips, and is sporting a shimmering jacket kissed by the mauve and pink hues of the dive bar lighting, whilst three of the most dapper suited and booted band members sway to the beat, makes it all the the better. No-nonsense, just genuinely danceable, straight-up glamorous indie rock n roll with the biggest of hearts. Like being given a naughty VIP pass, the entire room is enticed to join the party in their nostalgic but forward-facing world.

Mike Krol – Hipster Robots Suck @ The Side Bar (Outdoor Stage)

Rocking back and forth in his Elvis t-shirt with one foot on the drum kit, Mike Krol is taking care of business. It’s a good job; most of the crowd who’ve gathered around this DIY backyard stage – complete with monitors on patio furniture – have been awake just a few hours and what they need is a shot of driven and raw garage-grunge adrenaline. Surrounded by band, Mike leans forward in his shades and pulls himself up, holding balance before dropping back off and pacing the stage. A sermon of his sharp take on the world through scratchy Strokes-tinged yelps, Mike tambourine-bashes like he’s secretly powering the band through each track; if he stops, they stop and together they clatter through songs from latest album Power Chords. ‘What’s the Rhythm’ is a highlight, enticing the sun from behind the clouds and transforming the yard into a blazing hot sun trap, keeping it all very cool but igniting a fire for his SXSW debut. “I tend to avoid SX like the plague,” he says, “but I don’t know why. This is a lot of fun.”

Durand Jones & The Indications – Ticketmaster Showcase @ Stubbs BBQ

When ‘screaming eagle of soul’ Charles Bradley passed away he left a James Brown wail-sized hole in the lives of many soul fans. Durand Jones & The Indications might not be able to fill it, but they’re doing their damndest to try. As the sun sets over Austin’s famous outdoor venue, the crowd are hit with the talent of the 7 musicians before them. Durand can hold a breath-defying note to challenge the sustained chords of the organ and his voice effortlessly soars to sooth the most jaded of South-by souls. On ‘Is It Any Wonder?’ the drummer’s time travel-inducing falsetto harks back to a golden age of smoke-filled jazz clubs and just like a tight family unit raised in Daptone’s House of Soul, the skills of each member are given chance to shine. Stepping back into the spotlight after a stint on saxophone, Durand takes the mic and gestures to The Indications’ trumpet player; “we like to play a game,” he tells the crowd, before trying to catch her out in an improvised contest of call-and-response. Fans of Marvin Gaye, Smokey Robinson or Nick Waterhouse will recognise the band as vintage soul enthusiasts rather than revivalists; a fresh young band who can take a pause as well as they can throw a party.

Dreamer Boy – Vinyl Me, Please: Rising @ Empire Control Room

“Do you wanna go to Nashville?” asks one Zach Taylor, donning his Stetson and grinning before navigating the edge of the stage and joining the clumps of crowd in front of him. Tonight, wherever we find ourselves; his hometown or Austin, the true destination is more complex. Better known to friends as Dreamer Boy, his mellow chillwave is befitting of the stage name as it filters through the speakers and laps upon glitchy Bieberesque r’n’b pop. Singing and flexing wibbly auto-tune alongside synths from right-hand man and Love, nostalgia collaborator Bobby, this stripped-back dive bar set is that of a DIY bedroom set-up, yet Zach’s showmanship shines as he weaves about huddles of curious cats, serenading them with teenage love songs on the right side of awkwardness and sweetness. Wherever we are or wherever we’re heading, this set is one wild trip.

Emerson Snowe – International Day Showcase @ Austin Convention Centre

You’ve got to hand it to Jarrod Mahon, even when presented with the most sterile of spaces, under his Emerson Snowe moniker, he is a pure entertainer. Stood with guitar in hand and only a backing-track for company, he sweetly delivers dreamy nursery rhyme pop to ‘Ballroom G’s rows of chairs, and their occasional occupier. Majestic swan song ‘If I Die, Then I Die’ is a glittery waltz wrapped in a smog of Lemon Twigs splendour and sensitive synth ballad ‘Could You Love Me?’ sees Jarrod showing off his best sides to the cameras transmitting his image across multiple screens surrounding the stage. It’s a tricky set for the Brisbane songwriter but in his world, if the party doesn’t come to him, he’ll take the party to them; when not strumming his guitar, he sings whilst climbing and hanging from the rigging and ducking under the TV monitors, before leaping off, strolling down the aisle, and leaving those in their seats to serenade unsuspecting delegates in the foyer outside.

The Wants – Quit Your Day Job @ Cheer Up Charlie’s (Indoor Stage)

It’s early days for this Brooklyn 3-piece who’ve been infiltrating the city’s subterranean scene and gradually causing a buzz with the defiant, murky sound of their own rhythmic underworld. Tonight, with an extra member in tow, an unexpectedly short 20-minute set proves only one mission; to leave the crowd wanting more. A clue in the name, perhaps? ‘Ape Trap’ and ‘Clearly A Crisis’ possess the stark art-pop bounce of Franz Ferdinand with the stop-start stomp of Gang of Four, and the bobbing heads of a packed crowd pick up speed as the tracks gain momentum. The set is mostly industrial doom-laden post-punk and danceable guitar grooves powered by throbbing basslines and singer Madison Velding-VanDam’s monotone, interspersed with a side helping of anxiousness and melancholia. The brevity of the set might hint at a lack in material but could only mean one thing; more good things to come.

Avalanche Party / The Blinders – End of Trail Records @ Valhalla

A special moment in the trajectory of Avalanche Party and The Blinders’ careers to date, SXSW was always going to be more British invasion than pilgrimage. A billing featuring both acts would only result in the deepest of war wounds and a trail of destruction left in its wake. Punked-up poets, each perform solid sets, erupting with a blistering and unapologetic gut-punch of monumental proportions. Yet, it’s the surprise collaboration between the two, in tribute to The Amazing Snakeheads’ recently passed Dale Barclay, which is pivotal and emotional. Performing a rousing ‘Memories’ from Dale and his band’s Amphetamine Ballads album, Avalanche Party frontman Jordan, typically bare-chested and sweat-clad after an impassioned performance from within the crowd, is joined by The Blinders’ singer Thomas who swigs from his Lone Star and positions himself at a second mic. Together, the band stir up the Snakeheads’ distinctive stoned groove, and a cacophonic sound erupts, unravelling into bittersweet scenes of beautiful disarray. Dale would be proud.

Fontaines D.C. – DIY Magazine @ Swan Dive (Patio)

“My childhood was small, but I’m gonna be big,” intones singer Grian on frantic post-punk number, ‘Big’ before pacing the stage and shaking his wrists with pent-up energy. Taken literally, it’d be a bold prediction for the Dubliners; building a buzz at the world’s largest music event, particularly with an unreleased debut LP, is no mean feat; there’s stiff competition. But putting similar confidence into their set, the Fontaines frontman roams his invisible cage and surveys the faces surrounding the band. ‘Boys In The Better Land’ is ferocious and the 5-piece hammer through each track with vigour. Through the band’s relentless commotion their usual nonchalance is, tonight, injected with restless spirit; guitarist Carlos stands tall on the speakers, hunched under corrugated awning whilst bandmate Conor shreds his strings with a cig gently resting in his lips. Wearing a baggy pinstripe shirt, Grian’s resemblance to Ian Curtis is evident as he clutches at the mic before adding to the band’s racket with a tambourine in hand, moving their position from big prediction to big premonition.

Honourable mentions (in no particular order): Blushh, Illuminati Hotties, Sharkmuffin, Odonis Odonis, Sneaks, Pkew Pkew Pkew, Cherry Glazerr, TC Superstar, The Beths, Squid, Black Midi, Thyla, Black Belt Eagle Scout, Madeleine Kenney, Viagra Boys, Dylan Cartlidge, Murray A. Lightburn, Anteros, Whenyoung, Samia, Bedouine, Trudy and the Romance, The Texas Gentlemen, Fatherson, The Mystery Lights, Oh Sees, GRÜN WASSER, Sports Team, Gabriella Cohen, Fruit Tones, Her’s, Sweet Spirit…