Interview - The Subways

Back when they first broke through in the mid-2000s, The Subways always held an advantage over their contemporaries.

Not just because of their youth (the band were in their late teens when they won an ‘unsigned’ competition to play Glastonbury in 2004), but because of their style too: not for them the art-rock that was prevalent at the time, their approach was more visceral, timeless, geared simply around the pure joy of rock music.

“We grew up on rock ‘n’ roll music and, for me, getting on stage and playing was about letting go of all the shackles of everyday society,” frontman Billy Lunn tells me. “The notion that we have to get up for work, serve other people and make money, all that bollocks…for me, rock ‘n’ roll is about tapping into that primal impulse that harks back to dancing round a campfire, looking up to the gods and praying for rain. It’s something that we need to do.”

It’s the reason their fine debut album Young for Eternity has stood the test of time and is now, along with sophomore effort All Or Nothing, being reissued to mark its fifteenth anniversary.

Their debut’s title, at the time a rallying call for all generations, now seems even more fitting. It sounds vital and urgent in the way that all bands’ debut albums should do, blistering and unrestrained by cynicism. A decade and a half later, does its co-creator (the band shared credit for all 13 tracks) look back on it, as we all do at the past, with a squirm? “For years afterwards I would listen back to it and wish I did things differently,” Lunn says. “I couldn’t listen to it.”

“But now I can really listen to it and enjoy it because I know what it is. It’s a snapshot in time of our lives suddenly going really, really wild. All our dreams coming true and all that stuff. I think of it now as a diary entry, an encapsulation of that whole circus, and I love it for it. Even the sad memories of the tension in the band or shows where everything went wrong.”

The rigours of life on the road are well reported; touring, the pressure-cooker environment, the distractions available all clichés for a reason. Throw in your bandmates being your ex-girlfriend and your brother, and there’s bound to be tension. It’s testament to the strong bond the trio have that they are able to celebrate this anniversary in one piece. “If you can get through those periods of difficulty and tension, and a lot of the time it involves compromise, coming to terms with your own characteristics and getting to know things about your personality that you really need to get over, it totally strengthened us,” Lunn believes.

“One of the binding things about this band is that Josh and I are brothers. Charlotte and I were previously engaged to be married and then broke up. Getting through all that stuff was facilitated by music. Music is what got us through those periods and I’m so glad for it. I’m so thankful that we’re all so close and that kept us together, but more than that I’m so glad that we kept making music together. It’s allowed us to come back, fifteen years after Young for Eternity was released, and celebrate that.”

It’s not just their timeless debut that’s getting the reissue treatment; its 2008 follow-up, All Or Nothing, is finally getting a vinyl release too – Lunn gives us a bit more insight into why it’s taken so long: “We’re doing this anniversary tour for Young For Eternity, but we’re also using this as an excuse to issue a vinyl format for the second record. People have been talking about that since its release. It’s one of those things where you can’t just go, ‘Send it to press and get a big batch ready for the next tour’. You need a campaign to do it, and we thought this would be the campaign. We’re really proud of that record. A lot of bands coming out in the 2000s had hit first records and really struggled with the second. We really knuckled down for our second album. It’s easily one of our best, so it’ll be nice hear it on vinyl format.”

For their first album, The Subways were able to rattle through the recording quickly, capturing the energy of their live shows having been working on the songs for some time. They opted to take a different approach for its follow-up. “We talked to several producers and I said, ‘What about Butch Vig?’,” Lunn recalls. “I loved Nevermind and Garbage, Sonic Youth, Smashing Pumpkins. It was such a long shot, but he really liked the demo.”

“It involved going over to America and recording in Los Angeles. Around that time we’d been touring the US quite a lot and I was listening to a lot of the rock that was being played on US radio. I thought, ‘That sounds massive. How can we achieve that?’. It was really by going over and using American ears and American desks. Pre-amps and compressors, all that jazz. We came back with a really transatlantic record, rather than Young for Eternity which is Britrock.”

Both albums will get a fair airing on the forthcoming anniversary tours, which take up a large chunk of the year: “We’re doing a good couple of weeks in the UK. We really want to work hard in the UK because we’re quite aware of just how hard we‘ve worked outside of the UK. We’ve done really well over in Europe and America, and in Russia as well. We want to really work hard, get these shows totally nailed in the UK. That’s the first couple of weeks of the tour and then we’re off to the continent and playing a massive tour.”

There are plans afoot longer term too. A fifth album is in the works, as Lunn tells us: “The first single back is going to be in the summer, but no new record until at least probably the end of this year, maybe the beginning of next year. Just because we’ve got a couple of other projects that we want to finish. The anniversary tour we want to just sit back and enjoy. We were so young when we first released that record and went out and toured it. It was so over-whelming so it’s going to be so nice to be back on stage and in kind of a better place. A bit more world-weary and a bit more experienced so we can just relish it. We won’t want to rush the album during that experience.”

Time away from the band has given them fresh impetus. It’s now five years since the release of their self-titled fourth album, and the trio took the opportunity to live a little, in varying ways: “I took three years out to go to university. I’ve been hanging backstage and reading books for a good five years! In 2015 I told the guys that I wanted to go to uni and take three years out. I thought they were going to be really angry with me, but it turns out they were well up for it! Charlotte went off, had her baby and did some work with other people. Josh went to France, where he lives with his girlfriend and his daughter, and had three years of bliss. I studied for three years which was good fun, but during that time I was also writing material.”

Time well spent on all fronts, but enough is enough. Rock fans need bands like The Subways in their lives, and it’s not just the old lags who are looking on with keen interest. Their time away has also enabled a new generation, brought up on their visceral rock, to make themselves known. “I feel privileged in that respect, that we’re still relatively young in comparison to our contemporaries,” Lunn concludes. “It’s really nice to be playing alongside bands who’ve said, ‘We covered ‘Rock ‘n’ Roll Queen’ when we started’. I feel the solidarity with bands that are coming out now much more than when we first came about in 2004/5.”

“It’s a great feeling because we never really had any of that. Bands are playing to get up there and make people feel something true and express themselves.” The wheel of rock keeps turning, but bands like The Subways, with a clarity of message that resonates to all, will always be relevant.

Young for eternity indeed.

Wire - Mind Hive

Post punk.

Briefly scan through any article about a politically or socially charged band with guitars and the likelihood is this description will be there somewhere.

Wikipedia describes it as being ‘inspired by punk’s energy and DIY ethic but determined to break from rock clichés, artists experimented with sources including electronic music and styles like dub, funk and disco’. By definition therefore it’s meaningless, in that presumably anything recorded after 1976 can fit into that category (although it’s hard to imagine Coldplay ever choosing the term to describe themselves).

Yet most who choose the moniker would cite Wire as a key influence. Often labelled as the first post-punk band, the presently four-piece are a testament to longevity not stifling creativity. Despite having had several sabbaticals, Mind Hive is their seventeenth studio album and is as beguiling as the first.

Better than that, it’s an album that evolves without alienating the listener. It’s a struggle to imagine the mighty, menacing distorted guitar of opener ‘Be Like Them’, swinging as it does and held together by Robert Grey’s solid clatter of drums, being part of the same recording sessions as last track ‘Humming’, a state of the world address (‘I can’t remember when it went wrong, someone was humming a popular song’) atop a funereal church organ.

The first few tracks are primarily styled in Wire’s more recognisable timbre: ‘Primed And Ready’ once again features great cracks of the snare and crunchy, suffocating guitars while ‘Cactused’ goes one further, all stop-start, effect-heavy walls of noise that are almost shoegazey. Meanwhile, Colin Newman’s vocal delivery is quintessentially English, bringing to mind a dreamy Bryan Ferry. The track recalls present-day Ride and is an album highlight.

Yet around the halfway point the album regenerates itself. ‘Off The Beach’ is as breezy and deft (with acoustic guitars, for shame!) as all songs about the seaside should be. The band then go full Pink Floyd; ‘Unrepentant’ is spaced out and swirling (Newman now uncannily channelling Roger Waters) and ‘Shadows’ is similarly hazy but with a sinister undercurrent. Of course, when the subject matter is outlining mankind’s atrocities a smattering of dread is to be expected.

After providing ten consecutive minutes of laconic bliss, ‘Oklahoma’ purports to do something similar but lulls the listener into a false sense of security, the wall of guitar slapping us back into the here and now before the bass oozes out of the speakers. Held together by the repeated message ‘I admire your sexy hearse’ (nope, me neither), the track demands full attention in preparation for the final furlong. The seven-minute ‘Hung’ can only be described as a noise symphony in several parts, atmospheric noise rock at its finest. Vocals are kept to a minimum but once again a simple mantra is all that’s required (‘In a moment of doubt the damage was done’). Lyrically, ‘Humming’ goes one step further, decrying the ‘oligarchs’ and ‘empire vacuums’ that bedraggle 21st century western society.

If you’re looking to escape the doom of the modern world you won’t find such relief here (although with Wire, you probably shouldn’t have pressed play in the first place), but to avoid Mind Hive would be to deny one’s self.

As fresh and as vital as anything produced by the younger generation, the ‘first post-punk band’ are showing no signs of slowing down.

Field Music - Making A New World

Never ones to take the easy option, Field Music have always made a habit of standing apart from their peers.

Formed during the indie revival of the mid 2000s, brothers David and Peter Brewlis had close links with other inhabitants of Tyne and Wear (members of both The Futureheads and Maximo Park have featured in their ever-evolving line-up). And while mainstream success eluded them until a Mercury nomination in 2012 (for fourth album Plumb), they always seemed content to plough their own furrow.

Indeed, after second album Tones Of Town in 2007 the pair went on hiatus before it was fashionable. Over the last decade and a half since they’ve worked on numerous other projects but the mothership of Field Music was never far from either’s orbit, keeping relatively prolific since being endorsed by none other than Prince back in 2015.

Making A New World is their third album in four years and stems from a project the band undertook early last year for the Imperial War Museum. It’s quite convoluted, but the central theme comes down to imagining the long-lasting effects of the First World War and how they have shaped the world we live in today.

The album starts as two tracks representing the sounds at the minute leading up to 11am on 11th November 1918 and the silence thereafter. ‘Sound Raging’ is a subtle opener, with shimmering effects over acoustic strum, and as such it’s hard to imagine how it represents what was surely a cacophony of unimaginable noise, but you get the idea.

The album continues in chronological order. The ever so-slightly honky-tonk of ‘Coffee Or Wine’ outlines the journey home from war, ‘A Shot To The Arm’ covers how the horrors of war lead to the Dada movement, which in turn lead to the extreme performance art of the late 1960s, and so on. Eventually we are brought relatively up to date, with ‘Money Is A Memory’ detailing the final payments made by the German Treasury in 2010 as agreed within the Treaty Of Versailles.

So as a concept (for a concept album is what it is), it’s fascinating. As a piece of music, sadly less so. Structured over 19 short songs, there is very little substance, the eclecticism over-cooked. Several tracks are dominated by one instrument; ‘Between Nations’ a nagging synth, ‘Do You Read Me?’ held together by rattling drums and ‘Beyond That Of Courtesy’ little more than a simple guitar chord. The simplicity of the instrumentation doesn’t feel like it represents the subject matter with enough gravitas.

And yet the highlights are high indeed. ‘Only In A Man’s World’ is deliciously filthy shimmering funk and segues well into ‘Money Is A Memory’, a spiritual son of Bowie and Lennon’s ‘Fame’. Elsewhere, the wonky ‘Best Kept Garden’ sounds like a stoned, less frantic Vampire Weekend, and ‘A Change Of Heir’ features guitars akin to Paul McCartney’s (good) 70s output. Taken on their own these tracks sit comfortably alongside Field Music’s finest offerings. There’s just not enough of them.

Full marks for effort and conceptual imagination, but Making A New World sadly falls short sonically.

The Big Moon - Walking Like We Do

We all know, or at least have been told continuously, that genres are becoming a thing of the past.

Having easy access to an incomprehensible amount of music has swept the boundaries and stigmas away. Yet one classification defies the passing of time and technology: pop.

But what is ‘pop’? As a genre in and of itself it means to add a synth sheen, or expanded production, or the heinous crime of being catchy. That’s nonsense of course, in its purest sense it’s popular and therefore more encompassing.

The Big Moon, like Girl Ray before them, have been accused of ‘going pop.’ Their Mercury nominated debut, 2017’s Love In The 4th Dimension, was raucous indie fun, deceptively heavy and one for the indie purists. With a few more years’ experience (and therefore cynicism) under their belts, the four-piece have delivered the first big hitter of this new decade and have quite rightly developed their sound.

It’s true to say the guitars have been rolled back, but this new lightness of touch should not be mistaken for an abandonment of principles, more a willingness to enhance the sound. Introducing synth pads and layered harmonies is not always a red flag.

Opener ‘It’s Easy Then’ is a slow start with dislocated and distant backing vocals breathing life into an initially maudlin song. It’s lightly atmospheric but the foreboding drums are a signpost that everything is not quite what it seems. First single ‘Your Light’ is more (obviously) more accessible, layered and driving Killers-esque FM rock with that bassline that you always hear on this type of song. Juliette Jackson’s defiantly matter of fact English vocals are incongruous against the song and shouldn’t work but do.

Essentially the band have given themselves more room to breathe with instrumentation and arrangements. The chipper, bouncing ‘Take A Piece’ is held together by jaunty piano while the rickety ‘Don’t Think’ brings to mind the hooks of Franz Ferdinand. ‘A Hundred Ways To Die’, meanwhile, is almost music hall in its chirpiness. Arctic Monkeys’ AM is the key touchstone here, in particular ‘Why’, which evokes the swollen hip hop beats of that album, and ‘Barcelona’ which is all sauntering swirling bass. Elsewhere, the stomping ‘Holy Roller’ features the reassuring sounds of a winding guitar outro. The Big Moon have tweaked the winning formula rather than usurped it.

The lead single aside, it’s a slow-paced album which is a side-effect of the style they are taking. There isn’t much to set the pulse racing and the mid-paced songs do blend into one by the time the album reaches its conclusion. But the old-fashioned, simplistic yet satisfying melody of ‘Waves’ makes up for that, while Dog Eat Dog’s subject matter (social inequality and the tragedy of Grenfell Tower) warrants the heavenly voices and eerie keyboard.

Lyrically, Jackson isn’t afraid to confront the world we live in (‘maybe it’s an end cos this don’t feel like a start, but every generation probably thought they were the last’) but she doesn’t condemn and instead encourages empathy.

Rest assured, The Big Moon haven’t ‘gone pop’ in its harshest terms. They’ve simply broadened their palette by growing and, if there’s any justice, stand well placed to reap the rewards.

The Libertines - Live at The O2 Academy, Bristol

Once the UK’s most controversial, and one of its most lauded, acts, in 2019 The Libertines occupy their own orbit, as they always have.

They’ve been reunited for longer than they originally existed (originally the band came together for a reunion in 2010, then once again in 2014) and in that nine-year period have headlined festivals and played their own big shows, as well as offering up a fresh album (Anthems For Doomed Youth back in 2015) to sit comfortably alongside their side-projects.

That album was four years ago with not a new crochet heard since, the hotel/pub in Margate the band has launched seemingly taking up all their time and energy. Yet Peter Doherty has released two solo albums in the meantime, and rumours of a fourth album have been blowing in the wind for a while now. One can hope this winter tour is to get them match-fit for a new campaign; the audience doesn’t get any glimpses of the future though, as tonight (Dec 16th) is primarily about nostalgia. Not wholly, but largely.

Because this band still means a lot to people. The joy on the faces of the audience (largely in their thirties, as to be expected) as the foursome stride on stage and launch into the ramshackle ‘The Delaney’ acts as perfect demonstration. Rarely does the pleasure let up. Band and audience have matured together; Pete’s current look straddles Albert Steptoe in full duffle coat and flat cap before switching to Peaky Blinder once the coat is gone. Carl, meanwhile, is more debonair, his combination of cravat and braces recalling the English gentleman of days of yore.

One has to feel for John and Gary, especially given they are the heartbeat of the band. Great lyricists and unique showmen Pete ’n’ Carl may be, but as guitarists they are both limited and so it’s down to the rhythm section to demonstrate their class (although John may as well give up trying on backing vocals). The dubby ‘Gunga Din’ makes the venue vibrate, while it’s no surprise that Gary has always gone topless such is the shift he puts in. His tinny and powerful rattling on ‘Boys In The Band’ and ‘Can’t Stand Me Now’ make the songs transcendent, and his solo before ‘The Good Old Days’ is a particular highlight.

This aside, there’s very little in the way of improvisation. The Libertines’ precariousness was always their charm but that won’t wash two decades in, so tonight borders on professional and crowd-pleasing with no fat. The four-piece sing in harmony on ‘Dead For Love’ in a show of companionship, while Carl conducts the inevitable singalong for ‘What Katie Did’. It’s heartening that they have faith in the newer material to sit alongside the classics, but there’s no doubting why everyone’s here, as they drown the venue in vocals for closer ‘Don’t Look Back Into The Sun’.

So where does that put The Libertines? Heritage act? Partly. Relevant force in British guitar music? Ish. Crowd-pleasers? Unequivocally. What became of the likely lads? We’re no closer to having an answer. Thank goodness.

IDLES & Beak, Live at The Marble Factory, Bristol

The Give A Sh*t Xmas initiative is only in its second year but it’s already able to attract a heavyweight headliner; after a storming 2019, IDLES topped an emotional night.

Of course, the fact that the movement is fully aligned with IDLES’ core message – unity – helps massively. All proceeds, including profits from ticket sales and the raffle on the night (which included a main prize of Joe Talbot’s car), are distributed towards those who need it most, via a series of Bristol-based and focused homeless charities. This, combined with the political atmosphere (unavoidable in Bristol generally, but inescapable on election night), made for an evening on which to feel righteous.

But not too much. The wonderfully-named Billy Nomates and her DIY aesthetic set the scene; the music, her moves and her hair are all ever so slightly off-kilter, but that’s what makes it work. To be different is to be unique. Then, after a short interval, fellow local heroes Beak give us what can only be described as psychedelic light-entertainment.

Geoff Barrow’s mob (heavily involved in Give A Sh*t Xmas) are all electronic swoon and subtle, pulsing soundscapes, the woozy ‘Life Goes On’ being a highlight. But between tracks their onstage patter is equally as entertaining. It’s a unique night so they have free reign to be even more self-deprecating than normal, reading out negative comments underneath an online video of theirs and facilitating the raffle complete with Martin from Homes Under The Hammer. Hilarious and heart-warming stuff.

IDLES were due to take to the stage at 10pm, so there was anticipation that it would be timed beautifully with the UK General Election’s exit poll and the crowd could lose themselves in either a fit of pique or anger. Alas, they took to the stage early and were in full swing by the time the news many dreaded had filtered through, with no acknowledgement by Joe and the gang.

Not that it mattered. They are riding the crest of a wave at the moment and nothing can pull them off course, especially not when there’s a packed local crowd more than willing to be swept up with it all. They’ve spent much of the autumn recording their third album, and although we only get a brief glimpse tonight, it augurs well. Opening track and newbie ‘War’ suggests that album three is going to follow closely to the manifesto set by last year’s Joy As An Act Of Resistance, a tub-thumping clarion call of a song, watertight rock at its finest which sets the tempo before the slicing guitar of ‘Never Fight A Man With A Perm’ cuts through the wet night.

Having just undergone a short December tour, the band are performing at the optimum; Jon Beavis drums like a beast, Adam is everything a bassist should be, Lee is comparatively understated and the man who has won hearts over the year (Mark Bowen) can surely be allowed the luxury of clothes just this once. It is December after all.

It’s a relatively short set but no-one can feel aggrieved; such is IDLES’ quality now that any grievances can be centred around what they leave out. ‘Mother’ is frantic, ‘1049 Gotho’ is an assault on the eardrums and the message of ‘Danny Nedelko’ immediately becomes even more pertinent than it was a few hours previously.

But that’s a concern for tomorrow, tonight is first and foremost about the worthy cause, and the blistering music.

Interview - Working Men’s Club

If you were to compare the singles ‘Bad Blood’ and ‘Teeth’ you would assume they came at different points in their band’s career.

But they are the early offerings which demonstrate how much Working Men’s Club have evolved over the course of 2019. ‘Bad Blood’ was a promising debut, bouncing shimmering indie designed for the dancefloor, and was enough to get them a deal with Heavenly Records. ‘Teeth’ is something else entirely.

Gloriously menacing, with an electronic hook that stands alongside the greats (i.e. impossible to forget), and guitars that sound like jet planes lost in a hurricane, it’s like nothing else this year, with a haunting, Godlike vocal from Sydney Minsky-Sargeant on the verse (which sounds like your conscience on a Sunday morning) which then becomes more despairing as the songs reaches its crescendo, vocals and guitars working in simpatico.

Despite the immediacy of the song they’ve somehow managed to make a it a grower too. Only after repeated listens do the Happy Mondays funk guitars betray themselves, and the oblique lyrics allow the imagination to flourish. Yet it didn’t start with such intensity, as Sydney told Live4ever upon Teeth being named our #1 track of 2019:

“The first demo I did was slower and a bit drowsier with less aggressive vocals. But then after putting it into the set-up it became more up-tempo and dancier. That’s happened with a few tunes now, however I’m trying to write some straight-up dance tunes too.”

Teeth was one of the high points of a successful year for Working Men’s Club, “2019 has been amazing and really busy, but incredibly important,” Sydney says. “Less that a year ago no-one knew who we were, and we hadn’t released any music, so it’s been a pretty crazy year for us.”

That’s without question, and 2020 promises more milestones for the four-piece, but before that the band will be taking a well-earned break over the festive period: “We’ll be coming down after finishing our album and hopefully having a rest after a really busy year before continuing to tour the UK and Europe, and releasing our record.”

It’s probably best to follow their lead; with many more weapons like ‘Teeth’ in their armoury, Working Men’s Club are going to be relentless in 2020.

Interview - The Clockworks

Photo by Nicholas O’Donnell

Following your dreams is such an idealistic notion that it’s easy to be sneered at. It’s apparently unrealistic to expect your life to go the way you want it to, ‘that doesn’t happen’.

And yet time and time again, it does: footballers, entrepreneurs and social media stars have got where they are through belief and ambition. Musicians (despite some exceptions) are no different. Even so, to up sticks and relocate to a different country just to make your voice heard takes guts – around this time last year, a young four-piece from Galway decided to do just that.

The Irish music scene is in a healthy place right now: The Murder Capital and Just Mustard are playing to large venues in the UK, while Fontaines D.C. are the indie success story of the year. Yet these acts had an advantage, being in or around the Dublin area. The Clockworks had no such luck.

“We’re a funny one because I think if you asked the bands in Dublin, they do hang out, whereas we just don’t get to,” lead singer and lyric writer James tells me. “But that’s what made the decision to come here easier, because there was nothing tying us to Dublin.”

“There isn’t much of a scene in Galway, it’s all in Dublin,” notes drummer Damian. “If you’re not in the scene in Dublin, you’re not in the scene at all,” James agrees: “We just thought we’d come here and open ourselves up for some more opportunities.”

‘Here’ being the south of England. The band decamped to London in early January, the sensible logic being there is more opportunity in the capital. Such an opportunity presented itself within two weeks.

“We moved over on January 17th, and I think it was January 29th I sent him an Instagram message on the way to work one day on the train,” guitarist Sean tells us. “He saw it straight away, which was rare because apparently he got 700 messages that week. He said, ‘Send me your best song’, so I sent him ‘Bills And Pills’. He fucking loved it.”

The ‘he’ in question was Alan McGee, founder of Creation Records. The man who signed Primal Scream, Oasis and The Jesus & Mary Chain (among many others) now runs a new label, Creation23, and his hunt and thirst for new bands hasn’t dimmed. “He came to see us rehearse in Mill Hill,” Sean continues. “Me and James picked him up at the train station.”

“We treated it like a gig,” Tom remembers. “We set up the room like a gig rather than rehearsing when we face each other.” McGee was impressed: “He said it was the best rehearsal he’d seen since Oasis in the 1990s. He said, ‘I’m signing you now’.”

High praise from a man who’s seen and done it all. Yet it’s not without foundation; The Clockworks already have a TV appearance (on Soccer AM) under their belts and a few high-profile support slots including a current tour with The Bluetones, all on the back of one single. The band and McGee were in agreement that their growth should be quite organic, but circumstances are overtaking them:

“We played tiny little gigs, little club nights and supports, without mentioning it around London. Just picking up one or two people at a time. Just very quiet, and at the same time we were recording ‘Bills And Pills’. We started playing a couple of headline venues that between us and McGee we decided were not typical venues, like the Boogaloo in north London which has a history but is not on the circuit anymore. There was a whole scene in Brixton with south London bands, but we were like, ‘We live in north London, we’ll just play here’. It ended up working really well.”

The plan is going well so far, but in 2020 they’re unlikely to get away with being so discreet. Plans are afoot, as James informs us, for another single and their own gig in London, at The Old Blue Last in February. As well as this, the interest in the band isn’t just in the UK: Sean took it upon himself to cast the net further afield. “We put out some feelers on Instagram last night to see who wants to play where,” he reveals. “The results have been funny. A lot of different places; the UK, Sweden, Washington, Sao Paulo. Boston!”

“We go to the Netherlands in January for a festival. We’ve got a few festivals confirmed for early summer, we’ll be quite busy next year. The gig at Old Blue Last is a must.”

Tom is adamant: “Come see for yourself.”

Their gig at the Bristol Trinity Centre is a tour de force – eight short, sharp bursts of rock energy that are angular and muscular at the same time. Of the familiar songs, ‘Bills And Pills’ is a frenetic ocean of noise, while ‘Can I Speak To A Manager?’ sounds titanic, with excellently dexterous bass heard above the all-consuming sound. Better yet are the songs to come; ‘Rumours In The Stockroom’ and ‘Stranded In Stansted’ are watertight anthems. The Clockworks are professional without being pretentious, and clearly mean business.

Sports Team - Live at The Thekla, Bristol

Sports Team are currently inhabiting that sweet-spot for a new band.

All the tracks so far have been met with a positive response, they’ve been on the road most of the year so have perfected their current live show, and in doing so built up a dedicated following. They’re accessible enough to capture a younger, statistically-likely-more-appreciative audience, and young enough themselves to look wonderful (the bastards). You can hear the swoons as singer Alex Rice takes to the stage.

They are also direct and honest, and not ashamed to use Robbie Williams’ ‘Let Me Entertain You’ for their entrance to the stage before opener ‘Margate’, in all its glam-rock-with-Television-lead-guitar glory, bursts into life and whips the already highly-charged crowd into orgasm. Right from the off Rice gives it his all, heartily beating his chest and swinging his arms back and forth to demand undivided attention in what, as becomes apparent throughout the gig, is his trademark fashion. ‘Margate’ is swiftly followed by ‘Camel Craw’, which has another crowd-pleasing trick in breaking down and then coming right back.

Rice has all the classic tricks of a frontman with, if you’ll (please) forgive the phrase, moves like Jagger, and bearing a resemblance to him too. Strikingly good looking (even in a white suit), he teases the crowd by dangling his mic stand (adorned with flowers) over the top of the crowd. He hugs every stage-diver (one young man in particular must have jumped on stage about five times), and as he himself declares in the lyrics to ‘Fishing’, this young man is a lover, not a fighter.

Rice is nearly outdone by keyboardist Ben Mac though; Bez in attire and Chris Lowe in attitude, he stands stock still by his instrument for virtually the whole set, on occasion perhaps boring himself and strolling back and forth, seemingly unaware that he’s in a band. It’s incongruous when compared to Rice but fascinating nonetheless. He in fact stands apart from the whole band, all of whom are committed to the cause, albeit with no sense of uniformity in their dress code.

The songs themselves pack a punch (“We’re just going to kill it for 35 minutes”) and utilise the smart trick of finishing suddenly to gain maximum applause. ‘M5’ is reminiscent of the more party-driven songs of The Dandy Warhols, ‘Fishing’ is becoming a youth anthem (‘we go out with our friends’) and new single ‘The Races’ sounds like a diatribe to the gammons but is still delivered in their joyful way.

The frantic, muscular ‘Here It Comes Again’ is their calling card, and while the set veers into being one-note, ‘Ski-Lifts’ does add a whiff of melancholy to their pop oeuvre. Which is just as well because life can’t be one big party, though Sports Team are damn well trying to make it one.

Heavy Lungs - Live at The Thekla, Bristol

For the uninitiated the Thekla is unique in the UK – a boat, moored on Bristol’s Floating Harbour.

However, by virtue of being a former cargo ship it has some design necessities that don’t fully lend themselves to gigs: when it’s packed it becomes very difficult to get to the front because of a bottleneck, and therefore it can be hard to fully hear and appreciate the performance, through no fault of the band. This was a packed gig.

Because it was a homecoming gig, and there’s nothing quite like one of those. After travelling the country or the world, bands may want to reconnect with their roots no matter how good a tour it’s been. The appetite from the crowd is not only more anticipatory but also more forgiving. You can feel the crackling. Essentially there’s just a lot more love in the room.

After playing their first European tour, Heavy Lungs have wisely chosen their hometown as the last night on a quick jaunt around the country, to play at one of its most famous venues and, having recently been refurbished, the Thekla may have to replace the roof that the band seem so intent on tearing off. Nor are they relying on the crowd reaction, they earn it on merit by giving it their all. It’s a suffocating whirlpool of aggressive rock music that demonstrates the true timeless power of the art form.

As with all the best rock bands the power is held by the drummer, and Heavy Lungs have a phenomenal one in George Garratt. It’s a bravura performance of power and aggression in the style of John Bonham and is the key ingredient of the band’s sky-scraping punk. He does well to distract from singer Danny Nedelko, who is a preening, posturing frontman in the lineage of Jim Morrison and Brett Anderson (complete with removal of shirt). Never still, he’s either lost in the music with sweeping new wave flamboyancy or he’s letting it wash over him. Engaging as any great frontperson should be.

It’s been a productive year for the band, and there’s variation in the set; ‘Stutter,’ as the name suggests, takes a while to get going (by design) and sounds like Graham Coxon having a wet dream. ‘Self Worth’ is Queens Of The Stone Age on speed, as the drummer wryly points out, thanking them when the song concludes. Meanwhile, ‘Unfaithful One’ evolves into a dark, drum-driven wormhole as Danny joins what feels like every member of the audience in crowd-surfing.

By their own admission, Heavy Lungs aren’t the finished article yet; the ambition is to keep evolving, keep writing better songs and then eventually become the biggest and best in the world.

Yet in terms of crowd participation and adulation, it’s hard to see how much further they can go.

Underworld - Drift Series 1

Well, this was ambitious.

For reasons unknown, last year electronic pioneers Underworld put themselves to work on a new project – to create, record and release a new piece of music every week for a calendar year.

Sometimes they would also release short accompanying films so the tracks could be regarded as quasi-soundtracks. It’s not an especially new idea, the duo following suit from The Wedding Present and Ash in regularly releasing new singles over twelve months, but the scale is unprecedented. Underworld are a different beast entirely to those two indie bands, and not renowned for their succinctness in song.

The first phase (see the collection’s title) is now complete and available for commercial release as a seven-CD box-set. For the sake of your sanity, this writer can relay first-hand experience of listening to it in one sitting, and that approach does not come recommended. Not because of a lack of quality, more because the sheer volume of music is difficult to digest, some gems can fall through the cracks.

And it is a treasure trove of eclecticism. From the oriental, desolate ‘Altitude Dub’ to the driven jazz of ‘Poet Cat’, most musical bases are covered. ‘Low Between Zebras’ is a monologue against eerie synthesizers and ‘Moth At The Door’ is operatic. Life-affirming pop music, not normally a genre one would associate with Underworld, is flirted with on the wonderful ‘Molehill’. Boundaries are now a thing of the past.

The huge variations in pace are sometimes a bit discombobulating; the gorgeous screeching soundscape of ‘Brilliant Yes That Would Be’ sounds like an offcut from Vangelis’ Blade Runner score. At ten minutes it’s a bit unwieldy, but following the rave drone of ‘Universe Of Can When Go Back’ it’s cleansing. Nor is it unique in its length; several of the tracks exceed the ten-minute mark and it does become a bit draining at points. Closer ‘Appleshine Continuum’ clocks in at 36 minutes and, while an impressive piece of work full of emotive moments, it would work better as a separate piece on its own.

Yet nothing on the 52 tracks is frivolous. For all the experimentation, Karl Hyde and Rick Smith are ravers at heart and there’s plenty of that here. Drift rips through the speakers like a demon, ‘Soniamode (Aditya Game)’ is as all party trumpets and is as bullish as they’ve ever been, while ‘Listen To Their No’ could be plucked from any point of their career. The same can’t be said of ‘S T A R (Rebel Tech)’, which essentially is a list of famous and contemporary names (David Bowie, Danny Boyle) which seems meaningless but feels vital.

Yet it’s the slower tracks that stand out. Best of all are ‘Custard Speedtalk’, a military drumming backed by piano while Hyde is reflective and melancholy, and the sparse, Kraftwerk-indebted ‘Doris’. Elsewhere the woozy, laconic ‘Dune’ pushes them close as standout track from the collection.

Best of all, there’s seemingly more to come (Series 1 being a giveaway) so the project has obviously revitalised the duo. The ‘sample’ disc, a distillation of their chosen tracks (and viewed as one album, one of their best) is undoubtedly more palatable and is a fair reflection of the best bits of this project but doesn’t tell half the story.

A nice problem to have.

Working Men’s Club - Live at The Louisiana, Bristol

You used to be able to tell a lot about a band by their entrance music.

It was a scene setter, a way of managing expectations, and often the choice was akin to the live music that was to follow. In 2019 we are all very self-aware, and therefore subverting expectations is the new norm.

Working Men’s Club are advocates of this approach, taking to the stage to ‘It’s Raining Men’, The Weather Girls’ classic from 1982. A pop anthem, full of uninhibited joy. What follows from the Yorkshire mob is not constricted, but nor is it especially joyful.

This isn’t a criticism; Working Men’s Club have created an intense world of their own which is not for the faint of heart. It’s one of those gigs where you can feel the crackle of anticipation amongst the sold-out crowd before the explosion of noise hits.

They’ve already moved on from their debut single ‘Bad Blood’, which has now evolved into a swirling, effects-pedal driven, righteous noise. Set closer and recent single ‘Teeth’ is more in line with the rest of the yet-to-be-released set, incessant and industrial techno alongside Mary Chain guitars.

For ones so young (all in their late teens), they have a demonstrably evolved sound with smatterings of recognisable guitar influences. Some jangly guitar here, some phased bass there. Often there’s nu-rave mixed with psyche-rock. Yet the one act that keeps coming to mind is Underworld; singer Sydney Minsky-Sargeant spouts monotone monologues very much like Karl Hyde, above never unpleasantly over-bearing electronica. He’s uncompromising in his confrontation of the audience, in much the same way the music is. His deep, instructive voice perfectly suits the cacophony, and as he strips down to the waist the other males in the band follow suit, as if falling under his spell.

Their analogue instruments work alongside an arsenal of electronics, and as such there’s now no requirement for a drummer. In truth, one would run the risk of being drowned out amidst the epic and unsettling chaos which feels like trying to play ping-pong in a moving truck. It sounds like The Human League covering Neu and then letting the Prodigy remix it all. And it’s glorious.

It will be a shame when Working Men’s Club move on from intimate venues such as this, as their music has its natural home in the underground and in the dark. But it’s inevitable.

Little Comets - Live at The Komedia, Bath

Some things transcend the passage of time, taste and fashion. Joyous, upbeat guitar led music is one of them.

Little Comets have been operating for over a decade now and it would be fair to say that, despite their successes, they’ve sadly never permeated the mainstream. It’s a crying shame but doesn’t seem to bother the band one iota, and on tonight’s showing it’s clear why: they have a staunchly loyal following, and it seems to be one that regenerates itself.

Surveying the audience, the majority of those in attendance tonight (November 1st) would’ve been in single figures when Little Comets’ debut album was released. In the natural order of things, these kids should be watching unsigned bands, not one that’s four albums in.

It’s even more remarkable that tonight’s gig is ostensibly to promote or celebrate said debut, In Search Of Elusive Little Comets, which has recently been re-recorded. Singer Rob Coles recounts the circumstances surrounding why from the stage, that being that their original label wouldn’t support a reissue on vinyl so the band took it upon themselves to record a new version, as live in the studio.

A large chunk of the set consists of tracks taken from that album, the crowd singing along with Coles’ passionate vocals on ‘Joanna’ and the itchy ‘Adultery’ amongst others, and then dancing along in sync to, well, ‘Dancing Song’.

Paradoxically, the chirpy optimism of the album has clearly stood the test of time and yet they’ve come a long way since then. ‘A Bientot’, lifted from 2017’s Worhead, features marauding drumming (although the drums sound mighty all night), dramatic vocals and Edge chiming guitar. Meanwhile, ‘The Man Who Wrote Thriller’, from the same album, manages to be both pensive and catchy. ‘The Western Boy’ is intense, while ‘Little Italy’’s orchestral arrangement, or the overall chunkiness of ‘Hunting’, are good examples of their increasing maturity when contrasted to the despairing vocals and squealing guitar on ‘Darling Alistair’, or the charming restlessness of ‘Jennifer’.

The even newer material is yet another step on. ‘M62’ starts slowly with just vocals and soft guitar before the rest of the band comes for an onslaught. Likewise, ‘Alive At All’ is more muscular and fully formed than on record. Both have been released in the last two years and bode well, but best of all is closer ‘3 Minute Faltz’, as Coles removes guitar, takes to the piano and delivers some excellent wordplay before the track turns on its head with a fist pumping, unifying chorus. It’s brave to finish on a newer track given how well the earlier stuff has gone down, but Little Comets walk that tightrope between looking back and facing the future well.

You can’t move without seeing a smile, either from crowd or band. The five-some have the aura of people who know they have the best job in the world and are grateful for it.

A stark, potentially bleak and bitter winter is coming, yet Little Comets always give reason to be hopeful.

Girl Ray - Girl

When an indie act goes pop, alarm bells used to ring.

Not that one form of music takes any higher precedence over the other, but honing your sound to become flagrantly more commercial was seen as a sign of weakness, or of ‘selling out’. If you’re good enough as a band, you should be able to reshape pop around you (The Cure, Oasis, Arctic Monkeys) rather than reaching for it.

That’s a slightly outdated principle now, as genres are rapidly becoming a thing of the past. To be more pop means, broadly, to add some sheen and sparkle to your offerings as well as the more old-fashioned concepts of being catchy or resonant.

So when Girl Ray announced their new Year Zero was Ariana Grande’s explosion into pop culture, some eyebrows may have been raised. Their debut album was pleasant and understated, all jangly gems and ramshackle instrumentation, and certainly worthy of further exploration. Yet once the squealing synths and calypso beat of the title-track (and opener) kick in, it’s clear on Girl the North Londoners are boldly changing course.

One pre-requisite of pop music is that it should cover matters of the heart (and sometimes body), and Girl Ray aren’t found wanting here. ‘Just Down The Hall’ starts in a jaunty way but transforms into something much seedier, and with hushed Barry While-style vocals in the background over string-driven funk it practically oozes sex.

Elsewhere ‘Takes Time’, with a guest appearance from British rapper Pswuave (‘go ahead and call me mama/and you can be my baby’), owes a large debt to contemporary R&B, albeit more pondering with a beat so deep you feel your ears might be popping.

Carnal matters are most prominent on ‘Friend Like That’ (‘he dipped me like a casual fondue’). The key weapon in the band’s arsenal is Poppy Hankin’s Nico-esque vocals, which are used to great effect across much of the album. Her breathy vocals provide sincerity to the glitter funk of ‘Show Me More’, while on ‘Because’ they contrast well with the fullness and the slightly reverberating polka of the track. Her English accent over broadly summer time, mid-west pop production shouldn’t work but does. Either knowingly or unknowingly the track lifts from the Beatles track of the same name (‘because the world is round’) and is a similarly cleansing experience.

It’s not frantic in the way that modern pop can be. The tempo, while often very danceable, is unhurried in a way that rewards multiple listens. ‘Let It Go’ percolates at its own pace, and the dusty organ on the ode to friendship of ‘Keep It Tight’ keeps things at base level.

Yet as the album progresses the band’s roots come to the fore: the flute, so prominent on their debut, returns in the latter stages along with strings which maraud across the closer ‘Like The Stars’, which starts as a straight forward piano ballad but then builds elegantly with sumptuous guitars. Elsewhere it’s front and centre on ‘Go To The Top’, which would sit comfortably on their debut.

Girl Ray have brought in Ash Workman as producer, whose credits include Christine And The Queens and Metronomy, and the approach largely works in terms of broadening their sound rather than over-hauling it. It’s fortunate that this is the case, as to abandon their whimsy would have been a great loss.

Girl, while not as unique as their debut, is a testament to measured experimentation.

Inhaler - Live at The Exchange, Bristol

The island of Ireland (because apparently it’s law to use that moniker now) is a hotbed of talent at the moment.

Fontaines D.C. have had a very impressive year and are likely to continue to go from strength to strength with their forthcoming autumn tour (seeing as the whole UK leg is completely sold out they’d have to spectacularly mess it up) and The Murder Capital are following suit. Coming a bit further down the line and sure to have a big 2020 are snotty punks Touts and The Clockworks who, having signed to Alan McGee’s Creation 23 label, are already generating buzz by virtue of the industry legend heaping praise upon them.

And in the middle carriage, so far album-less but with a raft of strong songs, sit Inhaler.

They are a different proposition to the others though. Whilst all the aforementioned bands could be attributed to or associated with punk (specifically the post kind), this five-piece are more of a mainstream entity. Mixing the intense romance of The Killers with the emotional yearning of Coldplay, it’s very well-polished for ones so young, yet having been together since their school days (probably only a couple of years ago but still) they have a symbiosis that is difficult to fake.

They are also water-tight, held together by swaggering bass and the tumultuous Ryan McMahon on skins. Supporting Noel Gallagher, The Courteeners and Blossoms this year has very obviously taught them valuable lessons on how to get crowds, large or small, onside.

They do have pedigree when it comes to widescreen rock, as frontman Elijah Hewson is the offspring of one Bono Vox. While it seems churlish and unnecessary to make comparisons between the two frontmen, it’s also inescapable that Hewson does sound a lot like his old man, in that he has an impressive vocal range. On ‘Cheer Up Baby’ the sincerity shines through, while on closer ‘My Honest Face’ he makes the chorus skyrocket. In a wider context, the early 80s are a key touchstone; ‘I Want You’ is a great lost Echo & The Bunnymen track and ‘Ice Cream Sundae’ is anthemic New Romantic.

One imagines that Bono was more than aware of the inevitable comparisons that would be made, so it’s testament to Hewson Jnr that he’s not relying on just his larynx, providing some notable guitar solos throughout the set. While on the one hand having a famous father will at some points be a millstone around his neck, he’s had the benefit of being surrounded by music for all his life and it shows.

Nor are Inhaler building up a fanbase just because of who they are. It’s fair to say there are a lot of curious middle-aged U2 fans in attendance (t-shirts included) but for every one of them there’s an adoring teenager, worshipping in that unadulterated way that only they can.

If Inhaler can keep both demographics onside, and based on tonight there’s nothing to suggest they won’t, we’ll be seeing a lot more of them.

Starcrawler - Devour You

As music fans, we expect a lot from our acts.

We pin our hopes on them and more often than not fall for the press headlines, ironically allowing ourselves to be set up for disappointment when they turn out not to be life-changers. We should be savvy enough to see such manipulation coming from a mile off, but the wheel keeps turning.

Feted as saviours of rock a few years ago, Starcrawler certainly had some advantages. Singer Arrow de Wilde’s parents are a drummer (Aaron Sperske, formerly of Beachwood Sparks) and a renowned rock photographer (Autumn de Wilde – it won’t surprise you to learn that the band were formed in LA). To top it off, they were able to enlist Ryan Adams on production. Yet it would be churlish to say that the band is a product of fortune; their self-titled debut album last year was a riot, the sound of Black Sabbath playing Ronettes covers. It was pop-punk at its finest, and that most underrated yet important of musical experiences: huge fun.

Thankfully, they haven’t reinvented the wheel for this sophomore offering. Glee oozes from the speakers, with added glam rock glitter. On ‘Lizzy’, de Wilde screeches like the love child of Bo Diddley and Courtney Love over furious party rock, while recent single ‘Beat My Brains’ is almost literal, a marauding beast containing a key change any ‘pop’ act would be proud of.

Starcrawler’s live show is renowned for its theatricality, and these songs will translate well there. The sleazy ‘Home Alone’ is what would happen if the Yeah Yeah Yeahs provided a remix for 1970s Iggy Pop – until the guitar solo kicks in and dramatically changes the mood. ‘You Dig Yours’ is strutting rock backed by some apocalyptic drumming, and ‘Tank Top’ recalls the chipper melodies of The Monkees. One can’t imagine the band have any reservations about taking to the stage with so much adrenaline-fuelled energy up their sleeves.

If there’s only so much superficial trashy rock and roll you can stomach, there is more depth than previously. ‘No More Pennies’ adds some country guitar licks to the pot, and ‘Call Me A Baby’ sounds like one of those gentle White Stripes duets that were found on most of their albums.

‘She Gets Around’ opens with a pulsing underwater bass which heralds a more sinister, serious offering, while ‘Born Asleep’ is FM rock, complete with sky kissing solo. ‘Hollywood Ending’ is fittingly the track that’s most likely to be found on a movie soundtrack, de Wilde’s double-tracked vocals lending a sense of emotion and depth as a tonic to her west coast drawl.

But these are exceptions. The order of the day is cymbal heavy, gloriously face-melting seismic glam rock. The rough edges have been sanded off to make Devour You more polished and refined than its predecessor and as such is a step up whilst also being a refreshing dose of cynicism-free guitar music.

Starcrawler are here for our hearts and they make it incredibly easy to give in. They’re not the saviours of rock, but they are the soundtrack to unadulterated hedonism, which adds up to much the same thing.

Liam Gallagher - Why Me? Why Not.

Confident though he is, one suspects that even Liam Gallagher was taken aback by the success of his debut solo album As You Were.

Both exciting and solid, the platinum selling album successfully played to his strengths, equally divided between plaintive ballads and classic rock and roll. The success that followed through big gigs, copious radio play and entertaining interviews made the UK fall in love with Liam all over again. But how best to follow that up?

The novelty of his return has worn off, so now it’s got to be about the songs. As a minimum he has to consolidate. You won’t be surprised to learn that he’s generally playing it safe, but he’s now confident enough to tinker with the winning formula.

Comeback single ‘Shockwave’ is familiar territory though. It’s giddy glam rock that’s designed to play to his strengths with a verse cribbed from ‘Spread Your Love’ by Black Rebel Motorcycle Club. A mighty chorus, a sneering middle eight (‘you’re a snake, you’re a weasel’ – wonder who that’s directed at?) and the overall message, ‘I’m back’.

‘One Of Us’ pushes the boat out further, even if it’s just to the other side of the quay; the dramatic strings are reminiscent of Richard Ashcroft, accompanying a groovy bassline that channels Ian Brown, topped off with an earworm of a chorus. Having similar demographics, it’s a wise move and it’s possibly the best thing he’s put his name to in the last decade. The compulsory big ballad follows, ‘Once’ being a little too on-the-nose Lennon-esque. Trite rhyming couplets don’t distract from the inherent beauty of the song, although we have been here many times before.

As It Was (the documentary film) revealed Liam Gallagher to be the conductor of his previous album. Presuming they followed the same format for Why Me? Why Not. (and why wouldn’t they), then Gallagher has more ideas than he’s given credit for. Equally, as controversial as it is, the beauty of working with professional musicians is that their proficiency adds flavour. The title-track is pure White Album, apt given its source material (the album being named after a pair of Lennon paintings), while ‘Meadow’ is all distorted vocals and dry acoustic guitars, but goes leftfield as it progresses before culminating with what sounds like a spaceship landing. We even get a boisterous spoken-word section at the end of ‘Gone’.

A breezy freedom inhabits the album: ‘Now That I’ve Found You’ is a message to his formerly estranged daughter Molly who re-entered his life a few years ago. It manages to combine Semisonic with Status Quo, which is probably not something you thought you wanted but is a pleasant surprise. Elsewhere, ‘Alright Now’ skips everywhere melodically with a jaunty bridge and a Harrison solo as played by David Gilmour. It’s got no discernible chorus but that works in its favour.

‘Halo’ is the spiritual brother of Beady Eye’s ‘Bring The Light’, driving honky tonk piano and a whistling breakdown which successfully masks some more lyrical clangers. ‘The River’ rectifies this; a marauding beast taking the modern world to task (‘the device in your hand masks your beauty’).

It goes without saying that, as good as these songs are, it’s Gallagher’s voice that makes some of them transcendent. At certain points he goes full falsetto, and his talent for perfectly pitching his vocals to compliment the music continues to be his greatest strength.

He’s stated on record that he intends to take a break once this album has been toured, and indeed ‘Gone’ has a tone that matches the lyrics in saying ta-ta for now. He’ll be departing on good terms.

Gallagher knows his job is to move hearts and souls, and this album is possibly the most uplifting of the year.

King Nun - Mass

Starting on their musical journey as punks, west Londoners King Nun have already come a long way.

Signed aged seventeen, their most immediate dilemma was how to play in venues when they themselves were underage. As tales of teenage angst go, of which this album contains many, it’s one of the more unique. Sadly, we don’t get an answer to that specific question.

Otherwise, Mass is steeped in subject matter that bedevils all of us at a certain age: melancholy, anxiety, jealousy, lust and aspiration are all universal issues but manifest themselves uniquely. King Nun take the defiant approach, wrapping lyrics around said issues in uninhibited indie rock. The influences are keenly felt throughout, but this works for them in that they can simply focus on the key messages.

Frontman Theo Polyzoides channels Placebo’s Brian Molko on opener ‘Mascara Runs’ (and not just in the title), a sneering desperation coursing through his voice (‘if I don’t grow up you won’t listen’) over early Bloc Party guitars. Androgyny is something to explore and be proud of, ‘Chinese Medicine’ mellows the angst with excellent time-keeping by the whole band. ‘Transformer’ evokes the free-wheeling spirit of Britpop, musically if not lyrically (‘how do you hate in a place like this?’).

By this point all the PR surrounding the diversity of the album starts to ring hollow, with three consecutive tracks of recognisably British indie. Fortunately, ‘Cowboy’ signals the beginning of more unchartered waters, adding some slight but noticeable funk to proceedings with a momentum building chorus covering toxic masculinity. ‘I Saw Blue’ slows things down slightly, but with sudden changes in key and volume between verse and chorus.

Centrepiece and highlight of the album is ‘Black Tree’, the simplistic and solid rhythmic strumming providing the backbone of an insight into depression. The song builds and builds, adding yearning strings and further harmonies, reflecting the dark internalisation that are inescapable for those with mental health problems via the metaphor of the tree growing. It belies the youthfulness of its composers.

‘Low Flying Dandelion’ is neon funk, sonically evoking the warped melodies of Talking Heads and finished off with a guitar outro that wouldn’t sound out of place on mid-period Supergrass, immediately followed and contrasted by ‘Sharing A Head With Seth’ and its troubadour slacker rock, while ‘Intravenous’ tempers the urgent strut of Wire with guitar acrobats worthy of Graham Coxon. ‘A Giant Came Down’ is a paean to long forgotten German folk singer Sibylle Baier, a woozy guitar, vocally strained burst of energy on which the album ends.

There is much to be appreciated on this promising debut, but it’s sometimes a confusing listen. The subject matter shouldn’t be taken lightly, yet the music doesn’t comfortably fit with it. But it’s splendidly enjoyable indie rock that can only be made by young people.

Mass is tight, musically concise and augurs well for King Nun’s future.

Interview - LIFE at SXSW 2018

It’s not news anymore; the modern world is a scary yet fascinating place.

Specifically, the music industry is an ever-evolving beast, and so both our favourite acts and those that are trying to make a name for themselves are having to think, act and react differently. The beauty of the accessibility of instant gratification music is also a curse; competition is rife, everyone has a platform on which they can be heard, but that actually makes being heard more of a challenge.

Hull collective LIFE have managed to put themselves in a good position leading a wave of exciting new bands that have both creative and logistical control, and are therefore doing it their own way. We touched base with the band at this year’s South By Southwest Festival in Texas to pick their bones about the next stage of this increasingly exciting career.

It’s good to have you back. We saw you here last year, so how have the last 12 months been?

Last year was great: we brought the album out in May and we were lucky enough to be playlisted on 6Music three times. Then, at the end of the year, we were put in Radio One’s albums of the year next to Jay-Z and all that. We’re just pitching it to America now, that’s what we’re doing this year.

Huw Stephens put us in his Top 20 of the year, two singles from the album were in Steve Lamacq’s tracks of the year – ‘In Your Hands’ and ‘Popular Music’. He’s obviously been a big fan and we owe him quite a lot.

We did more in Europe, did our first headline show in Amsterdam and some really cool festival slots. There’s a good feeling about music right now, the uglier artists that are out on the edges are finally getting recognised so it’s good. We met Idles, and now we’re best friends.

We ran into someone at the British Music Embassy who was calling you their house band. How does that make you feel?

We feel it’s humbling to have that much support, to be called the house band when there’s bands queuing up for a slot on there and we’ve got three.

We see you’re also championing underdogs on your Instagram, so what’s the juxtaposition there about?

We’re proud of being on our own and taking ownership ourselves. It’s where we’re from, the city of Hull. It’s very proud but it seems like an underdog place. It’s hard when you speak about being in a band in Hull, and the industry and the labels and all that stuff, that doesn’t tend to link with Hull.

You don’t go around begging for stuff, we just earn it of our own right and try and do our own thing. If people want to come on board later then we’ll have those conversations, but it’s just about doing it anyway without waiting around for the industry. Hopefully we’re inspiring some of the other bands, and we’ve seen it.

You have to look outwards, take ownership of it and just do it.

It seems like the shows are getting bigger at home.

Yeah, we do our own nightclub pop party and the last one sold out so now we need to look for somewhere bigger. We don’t want to play any old show in Hull, so when we put it on we want to make it all about LIFE. It was a mix of bands, but we hosted it.

Is there something in particular you’re coming out here to achieve?

Because the album did so well in the UK with the resources we had at our disposal, we’d like to see the same again in America. (The record is) fast but it’s instant, so the idea is to get it out across America like we have done in the UK and Europe. That’s one of the aims for being out here for a week. We’re in that networking frame of mind.

But you’re still completely DIY in everything you’ve achieved so far?

We just got a manager two/three weeks ago, which has been great because it’s been a lot of work so far in terms of all the stuff people don’t ever think about being in a band, so it’s kind of a weight off our shoulders. Not that we’d stop working. That drives us on as well. But it’s come at the right time for us.

We got to a point where we could self-manage, but bringing on a manager that will work with us is good. We want them to be on board with what we’re doing long-term, and that’s what’s happening. We’ve never been against working with the industry, we’re just against the pre-historic way of working.

Are you guys warming up to streaming services?

That’s just the way the industry’s going. It’s hard because you don’t want to align yourself with that, but at the same time you still need it. It’s Catch-22, but for a band like us to say no to Spotify would just be ridiculous.

It seems like every day there is something new happening in the world. Are you getting material out of it?

I think we were interested in politics. It’s not like we’re sat with a notepad watching the news, but it all filters into what we see and what we do. With our lives, and who we know in England, and just generally the political climate, that informs it.

We don’t set out to write political songs, but because we’re naturally engaged anyway it just comes into the music that we make. There are bands that do that, but for that comes across as more fake, whereas for us it’s all very natural.

What do you think is the power of young people’s voices?

There’s a lot of young people who are angry at not having a voice at the moment. Recently we went to a conference which was about politicians and young people and how the gap is so vast. There’s a lot of ground movements coming in the UK as there are in the US. We say every night on stage that the young people are the most important resource this world has. They are the ones that are going to keep it spinning.

We see it a lot in Hull, a lot of the young people we work with are really passionate. We’re seeing more bands form in the studio where we work to be more political, more diverse, speaking up about themselves, about their lives. Just being a bit more daring and risky.

There’s definitely been a change, and politicians need to be aware of that and need to be asking working class young people, ‘what’s the future of the country?’. There has to be a change in how we look at things.

Are you writing anything new?

We’re currently working on six or seven demos, we’re getting a chunk of work done for the second album which we’re hoping to get out first thing next year. We’ve got a few things, festivals and stuff, but the main aim is to get the body of work done so we can push on.

We don’t want to lose momentum with music, it’s great to be playing live but we want to be releasing the next album. A lot of the new set has got a lot of new songs, so that’s a great way of testing how they are.

Lastly, have you got any good stories to share with us?

I (Mez) had a bad experience in Hamburg. I ended the night sh***ing everywhere, I sh*t myself in the bed. I didn’t mind it, it kept me on edge on stage. I was using muscles I’d never used before…

The Murder Capital - Live at The Exchange, Bristol

The idea of a band being a gang is the one of the oldest principles in music.

In the past it was outlined by literal uniformity; think The Beatles in their Nehru jackets, or the chain gang aesthetic of punk. The compulsory dress code isn’t so prevalent nowadays, but the gang mentality is still hearteningly rife.

Whilst generally dressed as if they come from different bands, The Murder Capital appear to have a ritual of locking foreheads in what is found to be an aggressive action in pubs and clubs throughout the land (and much like Pete ‘n’ Carl did back in the day), but tonight (7th October) is a telling insight into their intensity.

Before that, each member slowly takes to the stage as if participants in the Royal Rumble, with deafening feedback as their entrance music. Bassist Gabriel Paschal Byrne is the pick of the lot; he smiles evilly and manically at the crowd, playing the lead henchman to singer James McGovern’s mob boss. It comes across as pure calculated theatre and appears slightly misleading initially, but all drama is justified once the music starts: as each song kicks, each member of the quintet looks like they have been electrocuted, all flailing limbs and saliva.

Every member of the band plays their part. Guitarists Damien Tuite and Cathal Roper go back and forth across the stage to work in symbiosis as Byrne bobs up and down like he’s underwater. Drummer Diarmiud Brennan holds everything together, his non-stop tribal drumming a show of its own.

McGovern is determined to keep the spotlight on him, even during the early 80s, U2-esque ‘Slowdance II’ which as a pure instrumental has no requirement for his services. Nevertheless he stands completely still, eyes closed and lost in the music. He’s also a fine example of that most unheralded of musicians: the tambourine player. Never overstated or unnecessary, he hits the marks perfectly as he presumably does on the record.

The band’s industrial post-punk vignettes lend themselves well to such dramatics. McGovern half sings, half barks the choruses to openers ‘More Is Less’ and ‘Don’t Cling To Life’, but later ‘On Twisted Ground’ is delivered with a grace that is almost hymnal, the venue shrouded in darkness. As the song concludes McGovern’s weeps into the microphone reach an almost uncomfortable length, but that surely is the point. Comfort is not on the menu tonight, naked emotion and catharsis is.

Overly-dramatic perhaps, but nothing less than compelling.