1,471 OVERPASS, The North, Matt Felix, Bristol Electric, Thursday 5th November 2026

 

A landmark from a travel perspective, tonight; my first gig in our new car! The old Skoda Octavia, my trusty gig steed for 15 years and a mighty 525 gigs, was sadly “beyond economic repair”, so we invested in… another Skoda Octavia! If this one can take me to as many gigs as the old one, I’ll be very happy… Anyway, tonight’s hosts are newcomers Overpass, who’d impressed with a fine post-punk inflected EP last year but slightly less so with their debut full-length “Elsewhere, Always” earlier this, which varied from similar widescreen post-punk to less interesting, “indie by numbers” fayre redolent of the current crop of “indie landfill” identikit bands. Still, I’d already bought the ticket, and I enjoyed the recent Rough Trade release show (gig 1,445), so let’s see how they do on the big stage… 

Big stage indeed, as tonight sold out shortly after I’d gotten tix, waaay back in January. Yikes! So, an easy run in the new motor saw me parking up in Rupert Street a smidge after doors, joining a big queue and heading upstairs, which was already pretty full with Overpass’ notably young demographic. I found a spot house left, halfway back and behind the raised disabled/ VIP area, then successfully asked a steward if I could stand on the steps behind it, so had a great view throughout. Result! Opener Matt Felix and his band were on in short order at 7.30; the first few from this Richard Ashcroft-alike were sneery glam stompers, basic and bang average really, but things improved with a more reflective mid-set “The Weight”, and a more languid yet heartfelt 80’s influenced power ballad “Don’t Cry” (which featured a pregnant pause fooling most of the crowd!) was a listenable closer to a set which definitely improved throughout. 

By now I’d been joined by gig buddy Jeremy, so we compared recent cold/ flu episodes before The North burst onstage at 8.15. Considerably more dynamic than the first act, their caustic opener “Wallow” was “Celebrity Skin” through a 90’s Madchester filter (oddly for a Leeds band!), and “Can’t Sleep” a bolshy, in your face Emeny-ish rocker, delivered with snark by vocalist Billy Memphis. A couple of slower, more funereal Pixies-ish mid-set death marches halted momentum, but the final double whammy of the dark, driving “Daydream Rioting” (recalling late 90’s faves Annie Christian!) and the ringing thrust of closer “Soundtrack Your Soul” brought it back, capping a charging bull of a set which I enjoyed (Jeremy less so) and would happily see again in a smaller venue (they’d tear the Louisiana a new one, f’rinstance…). 

Kept our step-up spots and fine view despite latecomers trying to push through (most wrongly believing this the route to the front), and at 9.15, Overpass took the stage to a rapturous reception bordering on frenzy. Woah, their crowd love these guys…! Chunky opener “Union Station” largely set the tone, featuring a big punchy anthemic choral hook sung back lustily by the devoted, vocalist Max Newbold already challenging the crowd for more with plenty of “Bristol! Let’s hear you!” cries. “Sandman”, next up, was powered by a widescreen, soaring guitar riff recalling Bowie’s “All The Young Dudes”, whilst the next couple highlighted both sides of the band for me, with “I Will” an earnest, Inhaler-esque careering post-punk rocker, and “Slow” almost a clone of Coldplay’s “Yellow” (which to be fair is the stadium uber-bores’ best number…) with its’ lazy drone and catchy yet basic singalong. 

So, material wise still a band of two halves for me, but definitely not for their devoted fans, who lapped up everything and seemingly sang along to every word. This, along with Overpass’ own performance, earnest and committed throughout, actually made even their less impressive songs more palatable, and the whole gig actually pretty damn good. Plus, if you’ve got songs as fine as the soaring U2-esque anthem “Forever, You” (the album’s best cut) and the later, sweeping and Bunny-esque set highlight “Be Good To Yourself”, you must be doing something right…! Those aside, “American Girls” was a Springsteen-esque mid-set goodie with Newbold inserting the rap from Underworld’s “Born Slippy” in the middle, and “Bonny And Clyde” was delivered solo by the singer to close a short 45 minute set. We did get a longer encore, though, a 5 song vignette featuring excellent, driving rocker “3AM”, the off-kilter post-punk of “Take it Or Leave It” and final number, the rousing Stereophonics-esque singalong “Is This Real?”, ending an enjoyable set overall. Bade farewell to Jeremy then joined the milling throng at the front, quick reflexes rather than polite shouts bagging me a list this time. Home later than expected thanks to a diversion off the M4 along inky country roads, but no mind. Good gig… Overpass – and the new car – earned a pass mark from me tonight!

1,470 THE CHAMELEONS, Lol Tolhurst, Bristol Prospect Building, Thursday 22nd October 2026

 

Once again, another gig year isn’t complete without one Chameleons gig… for the 13^th time overall, and every “proper” gig year since 2017 (2020’s truncated Covid year notwithstanding), I’m off to see Mark “Vox” Burgess and his band of seminal Mancunian mysterious post-punk goth-adjacent rockers. Last time out was an abbreviated yet typically widescreen and thrilling showing at last June’s ill-fated yet fun “Forever Now” Festival (gig 1,392), so I’m ready for the full Chameleons treatment tonight, even if once again it’s in less than ideal surroundings at the soulless and cavernous warehouse that is Bristol’s Prospect Building. 

Still waiting on the new car, so I drove Rach’s Peugeot down a murky M4, finding some confusing “No Parking” signs and bollards out along the PB’s nearby industrial estate, but parking up down Chapel Street, near to the usual exit. Little did I know that was going to bite my ass later… Route-marched around to the far side entrance, arriving at the same time as Bristol friend and chanteuse Keeley! So we wandered in together, finding tonight’s venue wasn’t the usual large room but the smaller atrium, then running into Keeley’s friend Oliver Cherer, usually of Aircooled and Miki Berenyi’s band, but also featuring in tonight’s support! He eventually left us only to reappear onstage at 7.40 as part of a 3-piece support including dapper Chicagoan singer Eric Bradley, plus drummer and focal point Lol Tolhurst, former founding member of seminal tinny New Wavers turned Goth pioneers The Cure. “We’re playing these songs as they’re a part of me…and a part of you,” Tolhurst explained during the initially gloomy and mid-paced set of old Cure deep cuts, the haunting opening bars and stretched hurtle of “A Forest” and tremendous tribal pounding rhythms of “The Hanging Garden” highlights as the set wore on. An eerie, elegiac “All Cats Are Grey” and the galloping closing double of “Boys Don’t Cry” and taut oldie “10.15 Saturday Night” also made up for the draggy opening.

We kept our central spot a couple of rows back, before the lights dimmed and a synth pulse overlaid by murmurs from the void heralded the band onstage at 9. “Hello Bristol, always a pleasure…” announced Vox following pounding opener “Where Are You” and baroque deep-cut “Intrigue In Tangiers”. The sound was fine, much better in this smaller atrium room than the larger echoey anodyne cowshed, but to me it felt that the band were easing themselves in early doors, aside from a fine double of the driving, undulating “Looking Inwardly” and a brilliant, soaring “Up The Down Escalator”, which was preceded by Vox musing, “people say how relevant these songs still are… I wish they weren’t [because if so] there’d be a better world…” 

The languid, almost pastoral vibe of “Tears” preceded a couple of newies from 2025’s slightly disappointing “Arctic Moon” release, admittedly sounding better “live”; however the set, fine but still drifting a little for me particularly from a song selection perspective, really kicked into a higher gear with the tumbling drum intro of a brooding yet powerful “Soul In Isolation”, where Vox not only gave full rein to his authoritative and sonorous vocal for the “I’m alive in here” hook, but also paid lyrical homage to The Doors, Bowie and The Beatles during its strident widescreen outro. Stunning stuff, but even better as it then segued effortlessly into the intricate guitar flourish of a fantastic, plangent “Swamp Thing”. Now we’re talking! Lifelong blue Vox then bemoaned Man City’s current predicament and the fans’ lack of control of the situation, advising, “we need to get as much out of the present as it’s the only thing that exists,” that sense of carpe diem carrying into an almost joyous “End Of The World”. Eschewing the encore pantomime, the band then stayed onstage to deliver a concluding double of the sweeping triumphal sprawl of “Second Skin” and highlight of the night, the seething Smilodon roar of an elongated “Don’t Fall”, which saw Vox leap into the photo pit and stand eye to eye with us front rowers bellowing the resonant hook. A fine way to end a lengthy 1 hour 50 set which, unusually, took time for me to really shine, but which then ended on the highest of highs. 

Bade farewell to the bus-bound Keeley after we both bagged lists, then the nightmare journey home started… because this was “a smaller event”, the usual exit was closed, so I had to tramp the long way round in torrential rain back to my parking spot. Sodden and drenched back at the car, I then had to inch my way at snails pace through the flooded and pot-holed boneshaker roads of Fishponds and Frenchay due to an M32 closure, before splashing along the M4 at 50 mph tops, double wipered and full beam on, as Storm Austen really went biblical on us. Home eventually, totally frazzled, just before 12.30. Yikes! So, once again the Prospect Building underlined its status as a venue to be avoided, but The Chameleons proved that even a variable performance from them still has highlights aplenty, and knocks most bands into a cocked hat!

1,469 THE WEDDING PRESENT, Saint Senara, Gloucester Guildhall Arts Centre, Friday 16th October 2026

 

Still trying to shake off that dirty cold and the cough that won’t fuck off, but at least I’m fit enough for rock! So tonight it’s the resurgent (for me, at least!) Wedding Present, the veteran C86 warp-speed buzzsaw guitar abusers turning up in my gig schedule 8 days shy of the 40^th Anniversary of my first viewing (gig 58!) and for the 14^th time overall, but more significantly the 4^th in the last 2 years, since that redemptive 2024 “Shiiine On” set (gig 1,357) re-established them in my gig crosshairs. This current tour celebrates the 35^th Anniversary of their third album “Seamonsters”, my final full-length purchase before we drifted apart in the mid-90s, and an album that saw them evolve from the frantic growling jangle to a harsher, more abrasive (albeit still occasionally breakneck speed) sound more akin to the then prevalent US alt rock/ grunge genre, thanks to the knob-twiddling of Big Black mainman turned grunge producer du jour, Steve Albini. Still, choice picks from said album (e.g. “Dalliance”, “Dare” and “Corduroy”) have been standout tracks from their recent sets, so let’s see how the full album comes across, delivered by this more dynamic Weddoes line-up…

Stu L borrowed his son Rory’s Aygo for transport tonight (Lorraine calling first dibs on their car, Rach likewise with her Peugeot, and no replacement quite yet for our condemned Skoda gig wagon), and he scooped us up about ¼ to 7, picking up Weddoes lifers and old friends Stu G and Paul for a news catch up (both good and not-so good) on the way, parking up in the free Hampden Way car park and hitting the venue dead on 8. Support Saint Senara had just taken the stage; a local black-clad m/f goth folk duo, they played some swampy bluesy/ Appalachian trail murder ballad stuff which didn’t really land with any of us, and mainly formed the backdrop for a nice catch-up with Gloucester gig friends Simon and Sarah. 

We then grabbed a spot a few rows back, house left in this amply filled old school hall venue, before the Weddoes took the stage at 9 p.m. to an eerie musical backdrop, easing into “Limbo”, a slightly macabre Tex-Mex sounding opener, ceding as usual to a frantically riffed chorus. “We’re the semi-legendary Wedding Present,” snowy capped mainman David Gedge then announced, “but you’ve worked that out as we’ve started with a new one…!” He then advised a short selection would precede the “Seamonsters” run-through, starting with the languid, lugubrious “Queen Of Outer Space” (“the most ridiculous lyric I’ve ever written”) and a slightly understated yet very welcome “I’m Not Always So Stupid”, my favourite Weddoes number, prompting a raucous singalong on my part! That aside, however, this opening selection felt a little low-key, occasionally a bit flat and worryingly more akin to the mid-10s “Shiiine On” sets that kept me and the Weddoes apart, prior to the recruitment of excellent new guitarist Rachael Wood. Decent enough material and some fine banter from Gedge (including his story of playing “Montreal” in the city itself, and contracting food poisoning…), but lacking oomph, and I was hoping this was the calm before the storm…

Happily I was proven correct; following the poppy “It’s A Gas” (Gedge admitting, “[that song] is like being in a proper pop group… like the Monkees!”), the brooding ache of “Seamonsters” opener “Dalliance” saw a sea change in the set, bursting into a cacophonous mid-song crescendo of Gedge and Wood’s duelling guitars. That’s more like it! “Dare” even topped that, however, the dynamic punky blast and fist-pumping hook really getting the Guildhall sprung floor bouncing. “Blonde”’s slow/ fast dynamics ceded to a squalling wah wah denouement; “Rotterdam”’s pounding rhythmic feel and droney outro gave a reverential nod to The Velvet Underground; and the off-kilter drum rolls of “Corduroy” and sheet metal riffery from the kinetic Wood felt like my ears were being sandblasted. Which was what I wanted from the Weddoes all along! 

A more contemplative “Octopussy” rounded off a fine, uncompromising run-through of an overlooked album, after which the real magic happened…! The familiar ringing opening riff of “My Favourite Dress” heralded a tough, bruising version which segued seamlessly into a frankly brilliant “Kennedy”, its’ joyous final extended duelling guitar outro potent, punchy and powerful, and likely as good a song as I’ve ever seen the Weddoes play “live”. “I’ll leave you with this thought…” deadpanned Gedge before closer, the splendid undulating jangle of oldie “You Should Always Keep In Touch With Your Friends” concluded a proper set of 3 halves (!); low-key start, excellent “Seamonsters” performance, brilliant final salvo! Grabbed an easy list – my 1,200^th! Yay! – and got it signed by a reserved Gedge and more talkative Wood on the merch stand, before saying farewells to Simon and Sarah, and heading off home for ¼ to 12. Another dynamic Weddoes performance from this excellent current line-up; I’m happy to overlook the opening part of tonight’s set as “settling in” given what followed, and on that (later) form they’ll again shine at next month’s “Shiiine On!”

1,468 BUFFALO TOM, Gerard Love, London Village Underground, Saturday 10th October 2026

 

Back on the gig trail at last, although this one could be a case of kill or cure…! I’ve (mostly) managed to shake off a really bad case of old school dirty flu/ chest infection which had sadly caused me to miss a couple of pre-booked gigs last weekend (a “Dirty Boat” duo of Man/ Woman/ Chainsaw and Violet Grohl. Bah!) and I’m ready to resume my Autumn Dance Card events. And “mine hosts” for the return, for the 14^th time of asking, are veteran Boston alt-rock legends Buffalo Tom! Their moment in the post-grunge “industry feeding frenzy” 90’s sun having long passed, they however retain a solid cult following in the UK and happily return to these shores regularly to satisfy us devotees. This then represented a swift return after only a couple of years away (2024 in fact, gig 1,349), for no other reason than to play a gig or two. Fair enough, then, so tix were sourced for the London show (their nearest to the ‘don) before it quickly sold out. 

This Saturday date up the Smoke meant that I was finally able to take my son Logan to see the Tom. We did however have a few late logistical bumps to overcome; Tim dipped out late due to family reasons, our old Skoda had already been ruled out as it was effectively written off after a potentially massive service bill, so it briefly seemed that we were going in Logan’s van! However, Jami (who’d also been suffering with the flu this week) decided they weren’t well enough to attend their scheduled Shakespeare show with mum, so we pressed Rachel’s Peugeot into action! Logan and I therefore set off after his rugby game, parking in Hayes and Harlington, Lizzie lining it to Liverpool Street and hitting the venue just after 7 p.m. doors. No time to admire the run-down cave-like subterranean warehouse feel of this “new” venue, however, before the support was on at an indecently early 7.15! Said support was Mr. Gerard Love, formerly of Teenage Fanclub and scribe of some of their most memorable early material; this being the reason the Fannies themselves no longer play the tunes in question. No such restriction for Gerard though; so we got heavily muted and hushed versions of “Star Sign”, “Don’t Look Back” and “Ain’t That Enough” in a 7 song set, delivered with delicate, stripped back understatement by Gerard’s fey, lilting singing voice and lightly strummed guitar, plus Tom (the former TFC man deadpanning, “this is Tom, I’m Gerry…”), a multi-instrumentalist who provided suitably pastoral backwash accompaniment from his synth/ xylophone and flute set up. Pleasant stuff but a bit soporific overall; nice to hear those venerable old numbers again, shame there wasn’t more oomph…!

We’d squirmed to a barrier spot, extreme house left in front of the speakers, my already needing to use said barrier to remain upright. We soldier on regardless; The Tom swiftly took the stage dead on 8, affable singer Bill Janovitz thanking us for our early attendance before easing into chunky, chuntering opener “Summer” and a subsequent, spritelier “Treehouse”. “You look well! All packed in!” quipped Bill before the descending riff of a ragged but groovy “Helmet”, the singer already leading the charge with kinetic Townshend-esque arm-whirls and regular intense off-mic vocalising, although drummer Tom Maginnis also put in a decent shift, the underlying clattering drum patterns of a mid-set highlight double of “Tangerine” (Bill also eliciting a call and response haiku singalong from an initially reluctant crowd, remarking afterwards, “that was a spirited singalong – after some cajoling!”) and oldie “The Bus” propelling the set along impressively. 

The plangent chorus and herky-jerky rhythm of “Sodajerk” led into a surprisingly groovy mid-set highlight of “All Be Gone”; then the gig was curtailed for 10 minutes due to a medical emergency in the crowd. Unfortunate, but unsurprising; I was feeling quite faint myself by this point, and sweating profusely just standing in my barrier spot! Happily, the person recovered and the band could return, Bill advising, “we’ve got a hard 9.30 curfew – so this is our encore!” The brilliant, driving and descending sweep of “Dry Land” was my overall highlight tonight, before the sweeping emotion of “I’m Allowed” and a fine “Taillights Fade” thereafter saw the Tom introduce Gerard Love onstage for a welcome if (again) understated run-through of the Fannies’ classic “Sparky’s Dream”. A necessarily truncated performance was capped with a reverential run-through of Grant Hart’s “2541”, completing a trademark winningly ragged yet big-hearted Tom set. Our polite shouts for a list were ignored but Logan reached over and grabbed Bills’ list anyway! Chats with fellow punters Scott (who’d been sharing our corner spot and filming for an absent friend) and old friend Lisa (who got a stage shout out from the band and never noticed!), before a painful and exhausting hike back to the tube, my plantar fasciitis playing up good and proper. A lengthy-feeling tube ride got us back to the motor, a swift run home getting us to the ‘don at 12.30, late kebab teas in tow. Hurting – a LOT – the next day, but as ever, a typically raw, emotive and inclusive rock show from Buffalo Tom was worth the hassle!

1,467 FRANCIS OF DELIRIUM, May Payne, Bristol Exchange, Monday 28th September 2026

 

Well, my intended week of 4 gigs in 7 nights was reduced by one, as Sports Team fan Logan worked too late last Thursday to allow us to get down The Fleece in time to see them! No time to lick my financial wounds, though, as I was back on it tonight with this band of increasing faves. Luxembourg indie troupe Francis Of Delirium, ostensibly (and also increasingly) the singular vision of captivating talent Jana Bahrich, released their sophomore full-length effort earlier this year in “Run Run Pure Beauty”, and it’s an absolute corker. Once again taking it down a notch in comparison with both previous releases and their more overt shows, this properly showcases a batch of beautifully plangent melodic tuneage, switching from introverted melancholy to buoyant optimism with ease; no surprise it’s currently topping the list of my 2026 new releases. To cap things off, FoD’s touring iteration announced another UK tour, so I snapped up tix pronto. 

So, another sun-visor run down the M4 into the setting sun saw me parking up opposite the venue just after 7.15, running into Bristol gig friend Louise down the front, house left, for some fun gig chat before opener May Payne prompt at 8. A solo acoustic performer, occasionally utilising some eerie synth and effects pedal beats (though happily not too much of that old malarkey) but mainly a big old acoustic, her oeuvre majorly consisted of hushed and deeply personal introspective relationship breakup numbers, laced with extensive and rather entertaining between-song exposition. “I Was Born To Let You Down” (“the only happy song in the set!” according to May) and the more “evil” closing number (apparently written during her period!), which built to a crescendo, were my two highlights, but overall this was a listenable and endearing set from an engaging performer, who was surprised and buoyed by the quiet attentiveness of tonight’s audience!

We were then joined by Matt and his lovely daughter Alice, out on a first time daddy-daughter rock gig! So we chatted until the lights dimmed and Francis Of Delirium took the stage, quickly opening with the plaintive “Aliens”, building to a quiet/ loud undulating riff-fest, with Jana’s clear, high choirgirl voice already a feature, dancing across the surface. “Happy Monday you beautiful fuckers!” she exclaimed before the descending power riffery and almost operatic octave straddling choral vocal of an excellent “Out Tonight”, subsequently praising Bristol at its conclusion as “one of our favourite cities, [and the] best food!” 

That set the tone for tonight, with the “live” version of Francis Of Delirium again imbuing their material (particularly the new album numbers) with a potent, strident and vigorous dynamism, in contrast to the more layered and nuanced approach on the recorded versions, giving the songs an extra dimension in the process. And Jana herself seems to have really grown as a “live” performer, looking more relaxed and voluble, bantering jovially with her back-up boys and with the crowd, including myself on a couple of occasions, when their Briston Maroney support slot here in 2022 (gig 1,237) was mentioned! The stately oldie “Real Love” was a soaring early highlight, followed in short order by the groovy NYC new wave-isms of “Little Black Dress” and a more hushed, elegiac yet crescendo-building “Require For A Dying Day”, itself preceded by a stark vignette of Tears For Fears’ classic “Mad World”! We then got some rock theatrics as Jana and bassist Jeff divided the noisy and thoroughly engaged crowd down the middle, the halves competing for loudest reaction to the rabble-rousing punk hurtle of oldie “The Funhouse”; Jana properly energised our side with some expansive gestures of encouragement, but ultimately lost out to the chants of “Jeff Jeff Jeff”!

“We had Gigi’s pizza for tea… but now I think [its’] having me…” moaned Jana before the toughened up “Beautiful Life”, my favourite new one; “Something Changed” and “Higher” were a brilliant late hooky and widescreen double; then the brooding yet decadent dance of “Damned” rounded off the set… well, the planned one, at least… Jana then invited requests from the rowdy audience for an unplanned encore, ultimately settling on the quiet/ loud grungy riffery of “Ballet Dancers” and strident fist-pumping terrace chant of “Quit Fucking Around”, which ultimately closed out a rather excellent set. Drummer Denis (amazingly) heard my shout over the raucous cheers and handed me his list; we then joined quite the biggest merch queue I’ve seen at this venerated venue, Alice and I buying the same t-shirt (!) and myself grabbing list signatures and quick chats with both Jana and support May. Gathered my breath before a roadworks-diverted run home through inky country backroads, finally joining the M4 at J18 and hitting the ‘don at ¼ to midnight. Never mind, this was a fantastic show from a band really finding their feet “live”, energising and enthusing the Exchange crowd like few other  bands. Francis Of Delirium; direct, dynamic and delirious!

1,466 DEATH CAB FOR CUTIE, Pool Kids, Bristol Prospect Building, Wednesday 23rd September 2026

 

Looking for a redemption of sorts here, although I’m always happy to trust Ben Gibbard and Death Cab For Cutie… my last time out with these veteran Seattle cerebral alt-rock pioneers (whom I see as second in command to The National in the serious, black-jeans clad US alt-rock Underground stakes) unfortunately wasn’t the best, the understated and murky sound at The Royal Albert Hall (of all places) letting them down badly. 3 years on from that night (March 2023, gig 1,273), however, they announced a UK tour in support of new release “I Built You A Tower” which might just be their best album since the early noughties (the cover even sharing an orange colour scheme with my favourite DCFC album, 2002’s “The Photo Album”), their usual personal and contemplative songwriting quality being underpinned with a distinctly more upbeat, almost “rock” vibe. DCFC rocking out? I’ve criticised them in the past for doing this, but it seems to suit this new material, so I’m intrigued to hear it “live”, even if this means a trip to the deeply unimpressive warehouse venue that is Bristol’s Prospect Building. At least the sound was OK here, last time out…

So, another launch into the setting sun this week saw me parking up in that same industrial estate as last time out here, bumping into Nick Parker on the way into the cavernous warehouse, and grabbing a house right spot a couple of rows back. Gig buddy Jeremy joined me a few minutes before openers Pool Kids, onstage prompt at 8. A two girl, two guy combo, their frontline brought plenty of hair (!) and even more effort, but their monster riffing angsty and shouty post-millennial emo choruses sounded cumbersome and dated, with little tuneage initially in evidence. The aural equivalent of an artic lorry doing a 3 point turn in a country lane, perhaps? Things improved slightly, the tousled and pneumatic vocalist initiating a hooking call and response for “Hear Me Now”, and the subsequent strident “People Like You” was their best number. Otherwise, a lot of power chords and a head full of angst didn’t equate to anything memorable for me, I’m afraid…

We kept our spot as the place filled and I noticed occasional Nada Surf and Desperate Journalist gig face Julian standing close, so I had a brief chat with the man. Death Cab themselves were equally prompt on at 9 to the strains of Kraftwerk’s “Computer World”, vocalist Gibbard sporting an OMD t-shirt to underline the synthpop connection. The opening salvo of the taut, regimented rhythm of “Riptides”, the battering ram drumbeat of “Roman Candles” and the crashing clarion call of oldie “The New Year” sounded great, clear and crisp, with Gibbard’s slightly high register, nuanced yet emotive vocals at the fore. “Thanks for coming,” he announced before the jagged, herky jerky oomph of excellent newie “Punching The Flowers”, “this band is called Death Cab For Cutie, it’s an honour to be back!”

That set the tone for a dynamic, impressively delivered and happily splendid-sounding set from these US alt-rock groundbreakers, encompassing the wide breadth of their varied canon and sonic template. And Gibbard, dynamic and kinetic, swinging his guitar around as if he was in the Seattle Mariners’ on-deck circle (!), was the focal point throughout; mainly taciturn and only once introducing a song with its’ title (!), he kept the band focussed and the set rattling through at an impressive rate. “Black Sun” was moody and contemplative, the acapella final hook being reverentially sung back by this devoted crowd, followed by a rare between-song foray to the mic for Gibbard to praise Bristol’s jerk chicken! Newie “Pep Talk” was a lush, melodious early highlight; the heartbreak ballad “I Will Follow You Into The Dark” was delivered beautifully by Gibbard’s voice and acoustic only, also featuring a mid-song debate on the merits (or otherwise) of audience singalongs (!); the subsequent “I Will Possess Your Heart” saw dramatic blood red lighting illuminate the band, augmenting the song’s lengthy and menacing opening build; and “How Heavenly A State” saw the band cut loose and rock out good and proper to this growling, almost gothy newie. However a later “Trap Door” was probably my overall highlight; restrained, undulating yet absorbingly melodic with a dissonant, emotive piano outro, and for me the best of the new numbers on display. 

The hooky singalong “Soul Meets Body” and the spoken verses of the crescendo-laden Americana of “Foxglove Through The Clearcut” rounded off a swift 1 hour 25 set; then a 4 song encore was capped with the slow burn intro of “Transatlanticism”, building a head of steam to a pounding and thunderous crescendo, the band taking deserved bows after putting in a proper shift. One ridiculously easy list later, Jeremy and I parted at our cars, a quick egress seeing me back on the ‘don before midnight. A splendid set of prime US alt-rock from this enduring band tonight; thanks Ben and Death Cab For Cutie for justifying my trust!

1,465 THE TUBS, Bramwell, Bristol Exchange, Monday 21st September 2026

 

Tubs list courtesy of gig friend Louise (see write-up below); Bramwell list is my own!

My hectic September continues apace, this one kicking off a week of 3 gigs in 4 nights (and 4 in 7) with a debut outing on my Dance Card – finally! – for South Wales’ finest, The Tubs! Led by vocalist Owen Williams, whom I’d seen do time with both C86 revivalists Joanna Gruesome (with the Popguns waaaay back in 2012, gig 846) and the very fine Ex Void on an Alvvays undercard in 2023 (gig 1280), the Tubs have produced 3 splendid albums of hectic and robust jangle alt-rock, giving reverential nods to the likes of The Byrds, early R.E.M and even the harder-edged popcore of Husker Du, with their most recent, albeit slightly more understated and less frantic affair “Hard Life” nonetheless still making concerted efforts towards becoming one of my favourite releases of 2026. No less a luminary than my Boston friend and Pills mainman Corin Ashley had commended them with the comment, “I always wondered what The Buzzcocks fronted by [legendary folkie] Richard Thompson would sound like…”, so tonight promises much… 

Initially though, it seemed it might not happen at all, as I woke with a painfully nagging headache. A restful day and copious Anadin Extra seemed to diminish its’ effects a little, so I wandered through the alley at 6.15, Beef driving us West into a glaring sunset and parking opposite the venue just after 7. We met gig friends Alfie and Louise for early chats, and were later joined by Jeremy outside as I sought fresh air to clear my head. Wandered into the well-airconned venue just before 8, and support Bramwell joined us promptly on the hour. They were excellent from the off and totally apposite supports for The Tubs; opening with the resonant C86 Razorcuts pop of “Airport” which burst into a considerably more upbeat chorus with splendid 2 part harmonies from vocalist Tom and bassist Avalon, their set was poppy, upbeat, summery, bouncy and oh-so-jangly (if anything, a little too jangly, guitarist Niall’s ferociously strummed instrument being very prominent and occasionally a little harsh-sounding in the mix). Referencing the likes of Teenage Fanclub (the stripped back laze-guitar of “Captain Sensible”), the Wedding Present (the supersonic strum of “I’m A Bee”) and even 90’s faves 18 Wheeler and The Hormones (the hooky, harmonic highlight “Problems”), their bright indie powerpop was right in my wheelhouse and happily swept away my headache. The more regimented drum pattern of closer” You’re For Me”, the Byrdsian psych jangle dropping to half speed to finish, was a punctuation point on possibly the best young band support slot I’ve seen since Youth Play. Superb!

I took a breather outside again, having a passing chat with Bramwell bassist Avalon, before rejoining the folks down the front, house left, as the place filled for The Tubs’ entrance at 9. The laconic bearded Williams muttered, “we’re the Tubs…” before the clarion call riff of the slightly countrified, Thrills-like opener “Hard Life” segued into a more typically frantic and frenetic “Who’s Gonna Love You Now”. Drummer (and Big Jeff lookalike) Matt Green then found his mic, responding to his own suggestion that a new album tour cycle required new album banter with the classic line, “why is Turkey the only country with its own Delight?!”

This set the tone for the performance, the Tubs’ splendidly delivered jangle-fest set being shot through with in-band banter and comedy throughout, mostly emanating from behind the drumkit. The brilliant “Just An Illusion” recalled the undulating gallop of R.E.M’s classic “Driver 8” and a subsequent “Narcissist” was almost first album Smiths-like in its’ understated yearning melody; the quicksilver tumble of “Freak Mode” (“the dancey song, [so] let’s boogie!” ordered Green) was preceded by the drummer’s tale of coming 3^rd in a Yard of Ale competition in Ipswich (!), and the optimistic 1^st album Del Amitri love song vibe of “Stoop To Me” saw Green claim a bird-shit near miss earlier in the day was “a good omen for the tour”!

But my highlight was to come; the insistent thrust of “Chain Reaction” segued into the darker and broodier, almost Huskers-like punk rock of “Heaven Or London”, the standout track for me on the new album and a great way to end a breathless set. After a quick lurk at the side of the stage, the band returned for a couple of encores featuring more quips and laughs and the baroque proto-folk opening of a change-of-pace “Fade To Black”, to round off a fine performance topping off at about an hour overall. Louise grabbed the sole Tubs list so I contented myself with a pic of it before we bade farewell to our companions and hit the road, back just after 11. A couple of fine sets then, another excellent find in Bramwell, and in The Tubs’ Matt Green, probably the most voluble and talkative drummer I’ve seen “live” since the days of Velvet Crush’s Ric Menck. So overall a very fine way to launch my 3 in 4 week!