Hoo boy, did I really need this…!
The last couple of weeks have been undoubtedly the most emotionally fraught of my entire life, following my dear lady wife’s lung cancer diagnosis. An absolutely horrendous time, with no real appetite for doing anything “fun” ever again… However, Rachel’s first oncology appointment revealed a new, targeted and so far successful tablet-based drug to tackle her specific cancer mutation, giving us hope that this treatment might be effective for “several” years. So, thus buoyed, and with Rach’s blessing (nay, encouragement), it’s business as usual for the Rose household… which means, spend time together, do this family event, buy those tickets, go to that gig, live life! I’d honestly booked tix late for this gig more in hope than expectation, but was happy that prevailing winds allowed my attendance, to see one of the finest young British bands for years open their latest tour in support of their third (and frankly outstanding) album, “Blame The Young”, one which comes closest to capturing the vibe and atmosphere of their incendiary “live” performances.
So, a quick drive down and a messy stop-start trudge through Friday rush-hour Brizzle still got me parked up just before 7. Doors were already open, so I trotted down the front for a brief chat with Scouse OD Uber-fan Dazza, before looking around for intended gig buddy Matt, who I found was unfortunately stuck in Nottingham with work. Bah! So, back down the front, house left, for all-girl power trio openers Car Park, who kicked off with a couple of heavy-riffing grungy openers, the racey “MIA” recalling Auf Der Maur, and “Blown Out Of The Water” a more jagged stompy L7 groove. Some nice contrasting choral harmonies but an oddly dated sound, I thought, but then “Happy On Mars” changed my mind; a softer outlier to the beetle-crushing grungy riffs, this, with a melancholy and almost delicate feel underpinning it’s lyric about an ex-partner who’s fucked off to the red planet (“might be relatable one day!” quipped the blonde vocalist), this was rather lovely and my set highlight. A couple of pop-punkier tracks in the flippant, hooky “Born To Be Average” and a taut, pacey “Suburbs Of Hell” capped off an energetically delivered and promising, if a little schizophrenic set from an embryonic yet promising band finding their feet. One to watch, perhaps…
An entertaining chat down the front with fellow OD devotee Liz, a teacher from Chandlers Ford (so, much chat about our school-averse daughter ensued…), enlivened the wait until the lights smashed to black prompt at 8.30, and the synth swell of newie “Demons” formed the intro backdrop for the band’s entrance. No fucking about, they were straight into it, attacking this dark, dramatic and anthemic opener with their usual purposeful and kinetic ferocity. Vocalist Kiron shouted, “how you doing, Bristol!” before plunging straight into the strident choral hook of “Tyrannosaurus Wreck”, and we were away…
For a first night, this was no less than an utter triumph. No first night nerves on show (despite comments from the band that, “we’ve not done this since May…”); instead, this was as seamless and inclusive a performance as I’d hoped for, the audience responding in kind with crowd singalongs to the guitar riff (!) of “Webcam Funerals”, and frankly losing their collective shit to the squalling intro (thanks to excellent guitarist Dan) and inexorable build of the thrilling hell-ride of “Blame The Young”, possibly OD’s best number yet. “You guys are the best!” exclaimed Kiron at its conclusion, following a mid-song excursion into the crowd, again proving there’s no real discernible join between October Drift and their devoted massive. “Everybody Breaks” was a heartfelt and elegiac lighters-aloft Stadium power ballad in waiting, then a crowd-bound Kiron was boosted up to the outside of the overhanging balcony (H&S? What H&S??!!) before falling backwards into the welcoming crowd’s arms and crowdsurfing back to the stage. Yikes!
“Imagine
nothing exists beyond this boat – and all we do is dance,” announced a
breathless Kiron, before an utterly incendiary “Cherry Red”, followed by the
Adorable-like slow-burn of “Wallflower”. “Not Running Anymore”, a song of “hope
and love” delivered by Kiron in the middle of the crowd, was a poignant and
entirely appropriate set closer, and totally on the nose for me, encapsulating
an utterly redemptive show. Shortly thereafter, drummer Chris took centre stage
(“don’t fuck with a guy with a tambourine!”), challenging Bristol to up their
game for the traditional acapella closing number, a brilliantly observed “Like
The Snow We Fall”, again delivered by Chris and Kiron from the floor. Simply a
perfect and fitting finale.
Caught my breath afterwards, having bagsied Dan’s list earlier, then chatted with OD’s soundman – only James from Indoor Pets! Cool! Caught up with Chris as well – at their recent Rough Trade in-store (gig 1,350), I’d alluded to him that I was dealing with family issues, so felt it only fair to relay my story to a sympathetic ear. Thanks Chris. A quick chat with a young lady who approached me and said, “are you David? My dad reads your blog!” which was weird but nice (so, hi dad!), then I hit the road, home for 11. Like I said, I really needed this, something to restore my appetite for life and for music, and October Drift delivered big time. Thank you so much, boys!
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