1,296 COACH PARTY, Girl Scout, Nightswimming, Bristol Thekla, Thursday 5th October 2023

Second of two in two nights down in that there Brizzle, and if last night’s hosts Desperate Journalist are pretty much the high watermark for UK rock, then tonight lines up the band most likely to challenge them for that honour in the coming years… Isle Of Wight’s Coach Party have been slowly and sneakily becoming “live” favourites of mine, their blend of urgent melodic indie pop, tense Pixies-ish US alt-rock guitar inflections and lyrical teen diary breakup angst gaining some serious traction of late, thanks to some high-profile support slots. Said experiences seem also to have filtered through to their debut album “Killjoy”, it being a varied but harder-edged, punchier and confident affair than previous EP releases, but an album that rewards repeated listens, revealing hidden depths to their ostensibly bouncy indie sound.

 After last month’s Rough Trade acoustic CD release show (gig 1,292), I was looking forward to hearing the new material fully amped up on “the Dirty Boat”. And I was happily joined by Tim, Peej and Beef, the boys all meeting round ours for 6 then Tim driving us down a sunny M4, squeezing into a tiny overparked spot before getting in at 10 to 7, just as first band Nightswimming were taking the stage. Taking their name from one of R.E.M’s finest works, they sadly came nowhere near living up to their name with some wispily and soporifically dull dreampop, recalling The Sundays (yawn) for me, and Portishead for Peej (ditto). A few interesting resonant textural guitar licks, maybe, but no tunes to rub together to make fire, and instantly forgotten the second they left the stage. Thankfully main support Girl Scout were much more the ticket, kicking off with a sturdier, hooky Beths-like powerpop toon which set the tone for their enjoyable set. “Tight set tonight people! Not going to banter like usual…” announced vocalist Emma Jansson, clearly a woman both in a hurry and on a mission tonight, as they whipped through “Mothers And Fathers”, a snappy Veruca Salt-esque song about divorce (!), the vocalist again displaying a fair set of pipes on the “do it again” hook. “This venue is sick! I wish they had boats for venues in Stockholm!” she gushed, before the amphetamine gallop and soaring chorus of “unreleased and unrecorded!” newie “I Don’t Know What It Is”, which proved my highlight of the set (one for my “Best of 2024” compo CD, maybe…!). Closer “Do You Remember Sally Moore”, with its Public Image drum opening, hurtling verse and well-observed mid-song pregnant pause, however ran it close, climaxing another impressive support set from the Stockholmers – particularly kinetic guitarist and Louis Theroux lookalike Viktor Spasov, who could shred with the best of ‘em…

 I took a loo break then, and on returning to our spot house left, 3 or so rows back, proclaimed to Peej, “don’t think this is near the sell-out it’s supposed to be…” Famous last words, as the place then filled up quickly and, whilst not near as rammed as The Menzingers gig (gig 1,284), was more than amply full for the arrival of Coach Party onstage at 8.45 to a startlingly huge roar, vocalist Jess Eastwood nearly taken aback by the reception. Jess, resplendent in schoolgirl chic and with The Isle Of Wight’s Ass barely covered by a micro rah-rah skirt, led the band through grungy, growling opener “Micro Aggression”; then the band hit a snag as technical issues with Joe’s guitar forced some nervous banter between Jess and guitarist Steph, Jess then bringing their photographer onstage to do a dog bark! Once sorted, the irresistibly flippant “What’s The Point In Life” launched the set into orbit, and there it bloody well stayed…! 

Coach Party were quite, quite brilliant tonight, possibly the best I’ve seen them (which I seem to say every time, but hey, it’s true!). Unlike the insouciant, detached cool of last night’s hosts, however, this set was all about kinetic energy, noise, dynamism and barely contained full-on in-your-face punk rock; so much so that on the occasional wall-of-noise guitar squall I could swear they were channelling 00’s “live” favourites Seafood, or even Bob Mould! “Can’t Talk, Won’t” (“about the best day of my life,” remarked Jess) was a hurtling downhill luge ride of a song; a debate about dry shampoo (!) preceded a lovely, Alvvays-ish “Be That Girl” (see, that’s how dreampop is done properly – Nightswimming, take note), and after the off-kilter sneery grunge of “All I Wanna Do Is Hate”, the strident, acerbic “Shit TV” was another mid-set highlight.

But it seemed we were just gathering momentum for the set climax; after Steph commented on a noticeable left-right list on the old boat tonight, Jess concurring with the comment, “my mic is on the wonk!”, the set then just seemed to get harder, faster, punkier, noisier! “Hi Baby” was a breakneck Beths-like powerpop gabble, “Breakdown”’s pin-prick verse launched into a racey, strident chorus and some serious shredding from a strident, screaming Steph, then the savagely angry howl of “FLAG” was “dedicated” to Rishi Sunak (Jess roaring, “he’s an absolute Cunt! Fuck that fucking prick!”), before the vocalist grabbed the echo mic and got in the faces of the front rows for the fierce, fire-breathing finale “Parasite”. Hell of a double whammy to end a quite ferocious set.

Grabbed a list from the friendly lights guy and briefly doorstopped an elated Jess and Steph to sign it, before the Gang of Four of us drove home for 10.45, debating tonight’s events and all coming to the same conclusion. Coach Party are bloody ace, particularly “live”, and are going places fast. Brilliant stuff!