Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened…
After 10 years, 3 albums (including my currently reigning Album of the Year in 2024’s “Blame The Young”) and 8-so-far (for me) gigs varying from introspective record store strumalongs to thrilling in-your-face anthemic rock of the highest order, Taunton’s post-punk rabble October Drift – one of the most incendiary, dynamic and kinetic “live” acts of recent times… actually, make that ever – have sadly decided to bring their decade-long odyssey to a close. They announced 3 gigs as a celebratory punctuation point on proceedings, so of course I had to be at one of them! Their Bristol Thekla date however sadly clashed with my previously-booked MBV shlep (in hindsight, I wish I’d blown them off for OD on the “Dirty Boat” – my mate Matt was there and his dual reaction was, “insane,” and “my gig of the year”), so instead I booked for the actual final date, at Highbury’s Garage, scene of a previous final act from one of my beloved 90’s bands, The Heart Throbs, back in 1993 (gig 257).
Cognisant
of getting done speeding a bit too frequently of late, I left at 3 (!), a
steady drive getting me parked in Osterley and over to the Garage an hour
before doors. A queue had already formed so I decided to put in the time and
join it, a correct decision (despite a late sprinkling of rain) which pitched
me up on the barrier on entry, house left in front of the speakers, and next to
John, a guy I’d chatted with at the Rialto Scala gig in May (gig 1,384). Much
rock chat with this knowledgeable gent passed time until Kiran and Chris took
the stage at 7.30, Chris, clearly taken aback, uttering, “there’s quite a lot
of you here!” then informing us that this gig was a “strange redemption moment”
following their worst ever gig, here upstairs! A few acoustic numbers for
starters then, Kiran providing the understated guitar embellishment for their
intertwining vocals, with “Lost Without You”, shorn of the guitar assault and
with Chris harmonising the guitar line, morphing into a heartbreaking lover’s
lament, rightfully getting a riotous reception. Subsequent numbers trod the
same path, the absence of volume shining a stark light on the morose and
melancholy beauty of the material, with one deep cut oldie, “Still” (“no-one
asked for it but we’re playing it anyway!”) almost Leonard Cohen-like in it's
disconsolate wallow. “I Don’t Belong Anywhere” saw Chris hold a lengthy outro
note, eliciting a, “nice pipes!” compliment from Kiran, and “Naked”, apparently
the band’s almost-break-up song, saw some startlingly powerful harmonies from
the boys, rounding off this opening palate cleanser. “Back in half an hour,”
promised the drummer, prophesying this was just the calm before the storm…
The half an hour passed, the place got really busy down the front, then the symphonic strains of the stately opening riff to “Demons” played over the PA, the boys then taking the stage, sprinting into the track right out of the traps with their usual clear-eyed conviction and bottomless energy. And. It. Sounded. MASSIVE! Everest massive – no, make that Olympus Mons massive, thunderous and awesome. I’d earlier briefly run into Indoor Pets man James, again doing the sound tonight, and it seemed on this evidence he’d gotten the easiest job of the night. Just turn everything up to 11… then turn it up some more!
That said, and despite a couple of occasions where, due to my proximity to the hanging speakers, Kiran’s voice was occasionally lost in the avalanche of guitar, this wasn’t MBV stupid. Nope, this was just a fucking stridently loud rock show, matched in no small part by the October Drift boys, who were leaving nothing on the table with their performance, aware that this was the last one and determined to leave on the highest of highs. And this was reciprocated by the crowd tonight, going batshit crazy in an expanding mosh, greeting every number with exultation, holding the boys aloft during their frequent forays offstage to crowdsurf (yup, every single one of the band – the stewards in the photo pit were pretty busy tonight, what with these band excursions and the equally frequent crowdsurfers launching into the pit!), and generally making this one of those nights where the join between band and crowd was pretty much indiscernible, feeding off each other and creating one huge seething and celebratory mass revelling in the joy of “live” music. I’ve diverted from my usual write-up habit of picking out individual tracks thus far because it really didn’t matter, every song was a winner, widescreen, huge and skyscrapingly anthemic (although Kiran’s crowdsurf during a cacophonous opening to a brilliantly building “Blame The Young” was a particular highlight for me, also eliciting a, “fucking hell!” response from drummer Chris).
“This has been the honour of my life! Thank you so much for supporting us over this 10 years!” acclaimed an incredulous Kiran before the slow-burn opening bars and pregnant pause before the launch into “Forever Whatever” heralded the denouement; the ticking intro of “Oh The Silence” melted into a wallowing yet anthemic “Not Running Anymore”, a fitting conclusion to the rock, the boys gathering together for a well-deserved curtain call bow. But this story could only end one way…
“That
was fucking something else; you mad mad bastards!” exclaimed Chris before he,
brandishing a mean tambourine, led Kiran into the centre of the floor to
deliver October Drift’s epitaph, a reverentially received “Like The Snow We Fall”,
the crowd singing along in hushed tones before Chris asked for volume for the
repetitive outro hook, thereafter raising the roof. And then it was over.
I gathered my thoughts as the crowd, stunned, came to terms with the enormity of what they’d witnessed; a brief chat with James, then a catch up with Kiran and Chris, again sharing news from home with a caring drummer. Fond farewells before I crossed town, then a careful drive home got me back just after 1 a.m. As with the Gang Of Four finale on my birthday (gig 1,393), if this is truly goodbye, then October Drift have left us on the highest of high notes. Best wishes, gentlemen, we’ll miss you!
