1,312 SPANISH LOVE SONGS, Heart Attack Man, Suds, Southampton Engine Rooms, Saturday 13th January 2024

 

Another late call, this… after a couple of thrillingly visceral performances from LA emo rabble Spanish Love Songs immediately pre-Covid, both in support of kindred spirits The Menzingers (gig 1,173) and in their own right (gig 1,136), I was always up for more, so happily (and quickly, before it sold out!) booked tix for the Bristol Fleece leg of this January UK jaunt, in support of their 4^th album, last year’s “No Joy”. Whilst continuing the lyrical themes of introverted self-examination and trying to make sense of adult life in this fucked-up world, they’ve toned down the guitar onslaught a few (hundred?) notches on this release, revealing some excellent, almost acoustic-powered, galloping melody. One of my faves of the year, and I was looking forward to seeing how this more muted approach would reconcile with their bludgeoning behemoth “live” alter-ego, so I was gutted that my impending knee op was rescheduled for that very Bristol date! Bah! Luckily, the Southampton date fell prior to this (indeed, it’s the opening date on the tour…), a few late tix were released, so I booked late on. And, after playing a bit of “No Joy” in the car, my son and Menzingers fan Logan decided he was up for some Saturday night South Coast rock as well!

 So we Hit the road about 5.30, being held up by stationary traffic on the M4 but eventually clearing it and parking up in the massive – and cheap at £2! – nearby multi storey at 20 past 7. Just enough time to wander round to this weird industrial estate-located tin shed venue and grab a centre spot a couple of rows back for openers Suds, prompt at 7.30. I’d heard good reports about this new Norfolk band and was not to be disappointed; opener “A Terrible Thing” sashayed in with a pastoral Americana mood and some wistful tones from vocalist Maisie Carter, which was then overlaid by some heavy grungy guitar work, giving me immediate Madder Rose “Car Song” vibes. “Paint My Body” was more upbeat with some groovy 2-part harmonies, again recalling Mary Lorson’s charges in their more frantic moments, and a later “Hard For Me”, apparently about Great Yarmouth pleasure beach (!), delved into lilting Alvvays territory. A couple more upbeat numbers, including the rapid, rampant and eminently hooky closer “Freckle”, rounded off a fine opening set from a very promising young band – who, rather predictably when I challenged them about it at the merch stand, had never heard of Madder Rose!

 Grabbed the Suds list from their affable bassist, to happily find it was scribbled on the back of Spanish Love Songs’ list! A two’fer; nice! Main support Heart Attack Man were up in short order, the black-clad band bounding enthusiastically onstage and ripping into a set of energetic if formulaic So Cal pop-punk which would have been more apt for a Bowling For Soup support slot. Some chunky Weezer soundalike numbers as well, and one mid-set number, Old Enough To Die”, which was a dead ringer for Jimmy Eat World’s “Authority Song”, but otherwise not really much for me. Still, there was a frenzied young moshpit behind us throughout, especially going nuts during the shouty “Like A Kennedy”, so what do I know, eh?

 Logan had grabbed a barrier spot by now, so we chatted with our front row colleagues before the imposing monolith that is Spanish Love Songs mainman Dylan Slocum led his charges on at 9.30, easing into the slow burn build of opener “I’m Gonna Miss Everything”, the hook lustily sung back by the devoted. As I’d expected (and hoped), the heavy guitars were indeed pared back, exposing both the melody and intricate confessional lyricism of the new material in particular, and bringing Slocum’s yearning and passionate yet commanding vocals to the fore. “Lifers” was earnest and anthemic, and “Losers” a proper 4 to the floor stomper, kicking the gig into proper life.

 

“Holy Moly Southampton! We played this room back in 2020 – nothing bad happened after that!” deadpanned Slocum before the first-pumping roof raiser “Clean Up Crew”, the band then delving back to tumbling, angular oldie “Bellyache” and the frantic, punk rock verse and stadium roar chorus of “The Boy Considers His Haircut”, to the delight of the faithful. Returning to the new album material, Slocum informed us, “a lot of [“No Joy”] was written in the depths of depression when I couldn’t see my friends, so this [being able to play “live” again] is wonderful!”, and this really shone through, the band determined to make up for that lost time and revel in the “live” environment. So much so, unfortunately, that Slocum’s earnest and doubtless very sincere proclamations about how grateful he was/is to the fans here tonight became a little cloying when repeated too often. Mate, we know you love us, please don’t turn into Bono!

 That aside, this was a fine and inclusive performance, capped by a quite brilliant double-whammy of the new albums’ 2 best numbers, “Marvel” and tonight’s highlight, the wonderful, soaring “Haunted”, both expertly delivered despite guitarist/ keyboardist Meredith Van Voert having contrived to put a hole in her acoustic guitar a couple of numbers earlier! This actually worked out for the best, as Van Voert then concentrated on the undulating keyboard melody underpinning these 2 numbers instead.

 We took a wander to the back, then, as my knee was barking at me, grabbing a bar bench spot as Slocum led the band through the 2 “encores” (“just pretend we walked off”), the “California Uber Alles” drumbeat and final skyscraping communal singalong of “Brave Faces Everyone” (also pretty much the only time SLS really hit the heavy riffery tonight) concluding a 1 hour 20 set replete with singalongs and highlights. A quick exit at 11 and inky black drive back up the A34, avoiding the M4 traffic this time and hitting home at 12.30 via Jimmy’s kebabs for a late supper. Despite my concerns about Slocombe’s over-earnestness, this was an excellent Spanish Love Songs “opening night” gig; glad I made sure I caught them on this tour!

1,311 SPRINTS, Bristol Rough Trade Records, Tuesday 10th January 2024

 

Not my list, this one courtesy of occasional gig buddy Alfie...

Another gigging year gets underway… and typical of what’s likely to be a fragmented start to the 2024 “Dance Card”, given my impending knee operation (postponed from December and now rescheduled to the end of January), this one was a Larry-Last-Minute late call! I’d been impressed by new Dublin lot Sprints on the Suede undercard last March (gig 1,271); despite the obvious disadvantage of not being Desperate Journalist (Suede’s support on other dates), they’d impressed with some urgent, insistent indie/ post punk tuneage with a dark, almost gothy undercurrent and hint of surreptitious menace. They’d clearly resonated with the gig-booking public as well, as uncertainty over my knee op date caused me to hesitate on both this “in-store” debut album release show and signing session, and their forthcoming Thekla date, both of which sold out in short order! Yikes! So, big thanks to the Dice waiting list for this one; I put my name down and was duly rewarded with a text around lunchtime today offering a short-notice ticket. Thanks, I do!

 So, I set off down a chilly and inky black M4, hitting some nasty traffic straight off the junction and inching along the M32 to Nelson Street, dumping the motor and hitting a busy Rough Trade at ¼ to 7, bumping into occasional gig buddy Alfie in the queue! Caught up, then nosed around the racks, grabbing a couple of books (inc. a signed copy of Pulp’s Nick Banks’ memoir!) and dumping them back in the motor before grabbing a central spot a few rows back in the venue, inveigling my way forward as some older chaps decided not to risk a potential mosh! Sprints took the stage promptly at 7.30, and laudably treated this in-store performance as just any old regular gig, plugging in and playing hard. Nice! The pulsed drumbeat intro of “Ticking” underpinned a detached, impassive verse vocal from frontperson Karla Chubb, before both she – and the song – roared into strident venomous life, setting the tone for the set. The descending, “Dark Entries”-like riffery of “Heavy”, next up, was again a feature, as this number built into a squalling feedback fest, before bassist Sam McCann greeted the crowd with a cheery, “Bristol! How are you!”, replying to my, “how are you?” rejoinder with, “it’s been a long week – but happy to be here!”

 Sprints oeuvre fits nicely into my rock wheelhouse; moody and resonant post-punk guitar verse builds into roaring, amphetamine-fast choruses with often pseudo choral round repetitive hooks, delivered by Chubb’s impressively strident tones. That said, after a more immediate “Adore”, the vocalist passed on her apologies as, “my voice is incredibly hoarse as I shout too much; my mother warned me about it and look what happened… I became a rockstar!” “Shaking My Hands” sneaked in like a thief in the night, before again building to a strident climax, before, “the sad song on the album,” according to Chubb, namely “Shadow Of Doubt”, a comparatively stark, almost mumbling and morose wallow before building into an undulating repetitive hook, demonstrating there may be more to this band than the shouty stuff!

 The frantic “Up And Comer” was preceded by a fun exchange between vocalist and punter (Chubb asking, “[happy to hear] another album track?”, being met with a “No!” response from some wag, then offering them outside!), before Chubb then addressed the crowd, thanking them for their/ our support; “this week has been very surreal; we’ve gone from being bedroom dreamers to stage sell-out-ers!”, also delivering a story about meeting the love of her life, and an inclusive speech about self-empowerment. The subsequent final number, “Literary Mind”, encapsulated this mood; easily the set highlight, a euphoric, almost early U2-like soaring choral hook leading into a call-and-response circular lyrical passage between Chubb and bassist McCann, rounding off an impressive, passionately delivered and good value 45 minutes set. 

By now I’d moved towards the back, so I grabbed a spot near the front of the queue for the signing sesh with the band, grabbing a pic as well thanks to a fellow punter (with whom I’d been passing time in the queue chatting about bicycles!). Alfie, front and centre, had grabbed the list, so I took a pic then bade farewell, home for 9.45. Shame I might not get to the Thekla to catch this evidently fast-rising lot, but glad I managed to sprint along the M4 tonight to catch Sprints up close and personal. Something makes me think those opportunities will be getting increasingly scarce, real soon…