1,387 SPORTS TEAM, Bristol Rough Trade Records, Thursday 29th May 2025

 

Another of those entertaining Rough Trade “in-Stores”, this, and this time it’s for one of Logan’s favourites, upbeat and swaggering post-millennial indie roustabouts Sports Team. We’d caught them a couple of times in 2022, firstly at our Victorious Festival day trip (gig 1,240) and a month later at this very venue, pushing their then-current album “Gulp” (gig 1,244) and marking Logan’s first ever participation in a moshpit! Unfortunately, we’d not had the chance to catch them since, but as soon as I heard about this one, I remembered that the last such event here had sold out so booked immediately. Good thing too, as tix for this one flew out too, prompting the band to add a matinee as well! 

So, this gig was again in support of a new release; their 3^rd full-length, “Boys These Days” which came out earlier this week. I’d only heard snatches of the new material prior to this gig, particularly leadoff track “I’m In Love (Subaru)” which marks a definite departure from their knockabout Britpop-inflected, slightly trad but catchy upbeat singalong indie, and into a smoother, synth- and saxophone embellished radio-friendly 80’s sound – if I’m feeling kind, I’d say reminiscent of Prefab Sprout or even personal favourites Furniture or Big Dish; if not, Hall And Oates! However, in a current “indie” landscape seemingly smothered by cookie-cutter homogenous shouty and laddish indie landfill bands (Ks, Rosadocs, Lathums, Sherlocks et al), I admire them for trying a different approach, but is this a bit too radical a shift? Would they lose their slightly naughty boy charm in the process? And, most fundamentally of all, would it be any good? Questions, questions… 

Logan and I pondered this whilst listening to the new album on the way down, breaking one of my gigging rules in the process, that being… don’t listen to the band you’re going to see on the way there! Still, t’was Logan’s shout, and it was a pretty decent listen, if lower-key than previous releases, and featuring one particularly startling departure from their previous buoyant and boyish oeuvre (more on that later). So, hopes were buoyed as we hit a practically deserted Rough Trade shop at 6.45 – no wonder, everyone was already in the venue! Had a poke around before joining the crowd at 7.15 and squeezing into a viewing spot halfway back, house right against the side curtain, for a hot and uncomfortable wait. I’d noticed that our CDs, collected on entry, were all pre-signed, but a quick chat with ST bassist Oli Dewdney in the RT café after a last-minute loo dash revealed this was just to save time, as one of the band had to catch the last train without fail to get home for their 5 month old baby, but the band were still doing meet and greet afterwards. So! 

Anyhoops, back in for Sports Team’s onstage arrival at 20 to 8 to the backing track of Meat Loaf’s “Bat Out Of Hell”! Yipe! Nonetheless, they set to their task with their usual vigour and enthusiasm, ultimately packing 9 songs into a performance clocking in at just over 35 minutes! “Gulp” standout “The Drop” opened, then the Woodentopsy rockabilly Wild West vibe of “Bang Bang Bang” saw vocalist Alex Rice don a cowboy hat to deliver the gabbling, galloping lyric. “Apologies for the voice,” he pleaded, “this is the final one of 23 shows in 6 days!” The Violent Femmes-like descending bass of frantic oldie “Camel Crew” saw a circle pit form to our left, so I rather predictably lost Logan at this point; “Subaru” followed, all louche and Sprout-tastic, yet still possessing a big hook sung back by Logan and his mosh cohorts; and Alex requested one last chart push for the new album (“peel off all the “Brit-nominated” stickers and put them on it!”), bigging up Ron Mael-like pianist Ben Mack before the keys-led and expansive, Blur-like new album title track. 

Dynamic and punky oldie “Here’s The Thing” was one final clarion call to arms for the mosh; then Alex thanked the attendees and announced, “one more song”, so I found Logan in the mosh to get him to meet me in the queue, before listening to the closer at the back. Said number, “When I’m 30” was the one I’d alluded to earlier; a real departure, this, all brooding, introspective and moody in both atmosphere and its’ “coming of age” lyricism, building along its early-Pulp-esque length into a symphonic and quite lovely climactic outro. Quite possibly my favourite Sports Team song, then, and a fitting finale to this ST sampler! 

I grabbed an early spot in the queue as my breathless and dishevelled son joined me; a quick chat and pics with a bullish and chatty band later, we were back in the car before 8.30, and home, late tea kebab wraps in tow, before ¼ to 10! Looking forward to getting to know “Boys These Days” better now, which promises to be an admirable new attempt to widen the Sports Team musical brief. Hope it works. Good luck to them!

1,244 SPORTS TEAM, Bristol Rough Trade Records, Sunday 25th September 2022

 

(Not my list - courtesy of the chap behind us in the signing queue - drop me a comment and I'll give you a namecheck, young man!)

even later call for this one! Rising stars and barnstorming post-millennial indie rockers Sports Team had impressed mightily at last month’s Victorious Festival (gig 1,240) with a set replete with “spritely spunky youthful spunky spriteliness” (I know, bloody articulate, me!), putting them firmly on our radar. Unfortunately, their forthcoming, primarily O2 Academy-based, jaunt in support of sophomore album “Gulp!” fell right in the middle of an already-hectic October, their closest gigs to the ‘don clashing with other arrangements. Also, this enticing Bristol Rough Trade in-store and signing sesh had already long-sold out by this time. Bah! Serves me right for being late to the party for this lot, I mused as I absent-mindedly put my name down on the waiting list… a decision that ultimately paid dividends, as I got a text whilst sitting down for lunch today, saying a couple of tix had become available and were being reserved for a brief time. Result! I snapped them up toot sweet, and made plans for an unexpected evening’s rock…

 Drove an enthusiastic Logan down the M4 just before 6, parking up and joining the long queue to get in; a hotly anticipated one, this, no messin’… despite that, we grabbed our free CDs and headed into the small back room venue, pitching up only a couple of rows from the front, house right. Nice! Chatted with a mum who’d brought her lad along too – he was only 8, which brought back memories of when I started taking my now 15-year old and much taller young man to gigs! Gig mates Andy and Mandy unexpectedly turned up as well, so the time passed swiftly before Sports Team joined us; diminutive keyboardist Ben Mack first, setting off a synth pulse dancebeat, then the rest of this 6-piece band somehow squeezed onstage, towering vocalist Alex Rice deadpanning, “that’s the first track!” as the synth beat faded.

 
We were then however straight into new album opener “The Game”, with Sports Team, as Suede did last Sunday (gig 1,242), mostly concentrating on their new material for this 45 minute “vignette” of a set. And also like Suede, they impressed from the off with a dynamic, raucous and rambunctious performance of said bright, bouncy and upbeat new numbers. Veering a little away from the slightly tinny, Strokes-like dynamics which seemed to permeate their debut “Deep Down Happy” (on the couple of listens I’ve given it recently, at least!), the “Gulp!” numbers are more immediate, with some brain-hugging shout-along, fists-aloft anthemic choruses and hooks at their core. And in young Mr. Rice, they have a very impressive frontman, his expansive young Julian Cope-like swagger keeping him just the right side of arrogance, leaning into the baying crowd and firing out homespun lyrical vignettes with the nasal brashness of Figgs/ Gentlemen singer Mike Gent (a bit of a niche reference there, but sorry, that’s who popped into my head!).

 Following “The Drop”’s dramatic sleazoid hook, the gregarious Alex asked the crowd, “who are we up against in the charts?” eliciting a horde of catcalling feedback; then, to cheers, Sports Team delved back for oldie “M5”, which featured a itchy, descending verse beat similar to Violent Femmes’ classic “Gone Daddy Gone” and a huge chorus. By this time I’d lost Logan to the mosh, but could occasionally pick out glimpses of him in there, singing away at the top of his lungs. Proud dad moment, hashtag myworkhereisdone. etc… The Woodentopsy rockabilly beat of “Unstuck” segued into an infectiously groovy “R Entertainment”, before “Happy” saw a circle pit emerge, Logan sensibly keeping to its peripheries. Then, before the knockabout melody and flippant, raucous energy of set closer “Here’s The Thing”, Alex announced he was trying to get rid of their old car (a Piagi?) “because the door comes off!”, a front-row punter offering to swap his own Peugeot 107 for it! A slightly bizarre way to end a fun set; hardly ground-breaking, envelope-pushing or cutting edge, this is just honest upbeat indie rock which stands or falls on the tunes. Good thing then that Sports Team have those in brass bucketfuls. And clearly Logan, particularly, loved it!

 

Just missed out on a list (all promised elsewhere), but we then queued up next to a couple of young fans, including a chap who at 20 was already keeping records of all his gigs. Keep it up, young man! Eventually met the band for pix and brief chats (centring around Logan’s gig history and my wife’s lasagne, oddly enough!), leaving them for a swift drive home with a salient comment, evidenced by Logan’s disappearance into the mosh; “for the last 7 years I’ve been bringing my son to see my bands… tonight it looks as if he may have found his band!”

1,240 VICTORIOUS FESTIVAL 2022 (Saturday Only), Southsea Common and Seafront, Portsmouth, Saturday 27th August 2022

 

A month off gigs, then back in with a bang with a full-on Festival Day out by the sea! After the quagmire and Covid-hit debacle that was last year’s Wickham Festival, I was reluctant at best to revisit that one, and my enthusiasm for a boys Summer Fest day out there this year completely vanished when The Levellers were announced as headliners! Thankfully, this one reared its head as a potential alternative; Portsmouth’s Victorious Festival, now in its 10^th year, and well established as an August Bank Holiday alternative to the utterly dreadful line-ups that my 90’s hangout Reading Festival now churns out. I’d looked at this one before, finding previous line-ups a little too mainstream for my self-confessed obscure tastes, but a whole clutch of boy’s fave bands showed up together on the Saturday itinerary this year, led by Inhaler, one of my favourite discoveries of recent times and a band I had to miss last year due to Covid isolation (Rach took Logan and said they were amazing – bugger!). So we’re doing this one instead!

 Unfortunately, my dodgy knee well and truly let me down on a family holiday in Paris the previous week, and even on the day before the Fest (which was our travel day home) I could barely put any weight through it without experiencing shooting pain through the joint. Nonetheless, fully (heavily) strapped up and painkillered-up, Logan and I set off down a sun-drenched M4/ A34 route at 9.30, going cross country to avoid the really busy New Forest holiday traffic but still only pitching up on the outskirts of Pompey at 11.45 after a wrong turn or two. We then took ¾ hour to agonisingly pick our way through the city to our pre-booked car park, just behind the main Common Stage at the far west of this large, nearly Reading Festival-sized site. Got in and tramped around to get some water – the website said the bars would have free drinking water; they lie!!! – but we eventually got sorted. THE K’S were already onstage in front of a rapidly-filling audience, bashing out some purposeful sounding Jam-ish rawk, which culminated in a young fan being sent off crowd-surfing! An ersatz Sugababes line-up were up next as early afternoon “headliners”, but we had other plans!

 We took a slow amble to the back of the main arena and along Market Way, where the usual fest clothing stalls were located. I got used to how my knee was behaving, and Logan checked out and tried on a multitude of sunglasses (!), and we eventually pitched up at the smaller open-air Castle Stage (next to Southsea Castle, where I’d taken Evan for a day out, waay back in 2007!) midway through SWIM DEEP’s lunchtime set. I was sorry I’d missed the early knockings, as what I heard I thoroughly enjoyed; some building guitar/keyboard led dreampop atmospherics and slow burn widescreen drama, overlaid by some high-pitched vocals, initially recalling early Mew or the short-lived Temper Trap. Good stuff, culminating in “King City”, a bright, bouncy and singalong closer which got the crowd clapping along. Nice!

 

We grabbed a barrier slot, house right, and waited out the changeover; all stage changeovers were ½ hour, which seemed a long time, but that said, it likely enabled the running order to be kept on time, which it remained throughout – to the minute! Victorious: The Punctual Festival! So, COACH PARTY took the stage bang on 1.55, opener “What Do I Care” launching off like a pocket rocket, the mix initially dominated, almost suffocated, by the heavy guitar sound, remaining so for the undulating, almost doo-wop “3 Kisses”, but thankfully clearing up for a flippant “Everybody Hates Me”, some grungy Pixies-ish ascending riffery nonetheless the feature of the best sounding number so far. The band themselves, however, were on good form, fully road tested after a number of Festival gigs (including a support slot for French band Indochrine at the 96,000 capacity Parc Des Princes!), and vocalist Jess was in relaxed mood; “we’ve been here a couple of hours and no-one’s asked me for pills yet! I’ve [normally] got a pilly face...!”

 A headlong, punkish “Shit TV” preceded a debate about how many of the audience had seen The Sugababes’ mainstage set, which culminated in a “fuck the Sugababes!” chant! The hurtling “Breakdown” then featured a mid-song dead stop before some cacophonous riffery and primal screaming from guitarist Steph, and “FLAG”’s strident, fist-pumping choral drama then ceded to the already indiepop classic finale, the brilliant “Can’t Talk, Won’t”, rounding off a non-stop, breathless and action – packed half hour from these increasingly promising IOW newcomers.

 Took a slow amble back after catching our breath, running into Stayawakes bassist Pete, there with friends and his baby daughter! A quick chat before wandering back into the main arena where the blue overall-clad DODIE was just rounding off her mainstream pop set with a number about a train driver, to Hockey International-level screams from her young female massive. Thankfully they cleared out and we were again able to get some barrier, house right, for a proper Common Stage double whammy!

 

“Hello to all and sundry!” announced a familiar grey-mopped figure promptly at 3.30; “we’re a band called WE ARE SCIENTISTS and we think we’re the best band called We Are Scientists!” Keith Murray (for t’was he) then proceeded to underline that “best band” claim, leading the trio through a superb set of itchy, angular post-punk and bright, singalong powerpop. The Wannadies-esque racey, pacey opener “You’ve Lost Your Shit” led into the dramatic chugging backbeat of “Buckle”, and an entertaining between-band debate about work, Keith coming to the realisation, “shit, I AM at work! And so are you [Chris]!” The pounding, circular riff and soaring, Silver Sun helium chorus of “Contact High” was a breathless, brilliant set highlight, but in all honesty every one was a winner. I’d done my homework after their fine December 2021 Trinity set (gig 1,203) so was able this time to recognise and sing along to every number, from the hooky, angular “It’s A Hit”, through the taut, funky Talking Heads on speed “I Cut My Own Hair” (which featured a mid-song pregnant pause, Keith asking the crowd to keep to the clapping tempo for 7 minutes!), via the thrusting, pinprick rhythm of oldie “Nobody Move” to the final anthemic number “After Hours”, which concluded an expertly and energetically delivered Festival set, ultimately my favourite of the day.

 

We were all in for the next lot as well though, so stayed on our barrier spot as a WAS roadie tracked down a mixing desk setlist for me (lists being hard to come by, today). Chap! Another half hour wait, but this time along with a larger and more enthusiastic and anticipatory crowd, comprising a lot of conspicuously young ladies. No surprise really, the young gentlemen of INHALER are quite the bunch of lookers, as well as a very promising young guitar band, with vocalist Eli Hewson (son of U2’s Bono, and currently the same age as his old man when he and his schoolboy chums delivered their second and best album, “October”, waaay back in 1981) a tousled rock heart throb in the making. Bugger the looks and lineage though, for me it’s all about the tunes; Inhaler may be silver spoon boys, but that only gets you through the door, and then you need quality songs to stop you getting kicked back out of the room. Opener “It Won’t Always Be like This” immediately showed they have those, with an immediate soaring singalong to the stadium-sized hook, and newie “Move On” was equally pacey, albeit darker and more Cure-like. No one-trick post-punk ponies these, though, as “Why Does It Hurt” was a looser limbed and dancier number, although featuring hints of “Joshua Tree”-era U2 atmosphere and space. “Who’s Your Money On” saw Eli exhort his young followers to jump along in his thick Irish brogue, and the urgent, fire-alarm clatter of “When It Breaks” incited a moshpit behind us to the brief concern of the bouncers.

 Newie “These Are The Days” was a blue collar rocker recalling Springsteen or even The Boomtown Rats (!), and the double salvo of “Cheer Up Baby” and an excellent, albeit slightly thin sounding, “My Honest Face” ended a fine set, one which I’d now like to see indoors at closer quarters. Showing a little inexperience on the big stage (particularly in comparison to their 7 album, 15 year veteran predecessors We Are Scientists), this was nonetheless a fine showing from a band seriously going places, if they can deliver on their promise with the “difficult” second album, due soon…

 

That was our afternoon Common Stage entertainment, and this took us up to 5.10… and teatime! So we took another slow amble along Market Way and grabbed some dirty burgers and fries from the eaterie with the shortest queue, then bumped into Coach Party’s Steph for a quick chat about that Parc Des Princes gig (!), before plonking down on a boulder for tea. Still a paucity of seats around the site, despite claims to the contrary… anyhoo, back into the nearby Castle stage for SPORTS TEAM, whose upbeat and optimistic bouncy Britpoppy/ indie set was enthusiastic and effervescent, full of spritely spunky youthful spunky spriteliness (as I said to Logan!), and in vocalist Alex Rice, featured an energetic, all-action and kinetic stage presence. Well, not just the stage, as it turned out… “Our Entertainment” was a breathless stomper, “New Day” got the young ST massive jumping about, kicking up a dustbowl moshpit, and a fast, frisky “Going Fishing” slowed for a huge singalong chorus. A few tongue-in-cheek anti-Reading Fest comments were fun, before Alex clambered atop the speaker stack to deliver the vocal to the bolshy “Ashton Kutcher” before going one better, launching into the crowd in front of us and crowdsurfing a considerable distance out during the Doors-like 60’s psych wig-out final number!

 

The ST massive cleared out then as dusk started to fall, the crepuscular light seeming to be the perfect backdrop for WHITE LIES. I was wondering how their more studied and studious pseudo-gothy 80’s oeuvre would follow on from the seat-of-your-pants bounciness of Sports Team, but from the moment they took the stage prompt at 7.10 to a rapturous welcome and launched into the strafing guitar assault of opener “Farewell To The Fairground”, they were “on it”, the mid-song dead stop and hook singalong providing a startling juxtaposition to the wall of guitar sound, but also adding drama and gravitas. A speeded-up “To Lose My Life” followed, slowing for the audience-chanted choral hook, and newie “Am I Really Gonna Die” was a smooth synth-pop delight. The mid-set “Big TV” sheet metal Visage-like synth hook was an unexpected clapalong, the crowd well engaged in this fine performance from the boys, but all things were leading up to the double whammy finish…

 Charles Caves’ epic growling bass line heralded penultimate number “Death”, the tempo slowing considerably twice for the “fear’s got a hold of me” hook, before launching into huge impressive life for the denouement. Then set closer, the stabbing keyboard intro to a soaring, anthemic “Bigger Than Us” rounded off a set not completely bereft of flaws (Harry’s voice in particular sounding a little raspy and road-weary, occasionally straining at the top end), but well chosen and overall rather splendid.

 This took us to 8 – Logan double-queued for churros in the dusty and dusky gloom, and we wandered back into the now-packed main arena where THE WOMBATS were kicking up a rowdy, rabble-rousing but eminently forgettable Arctic Monkeys-lite noise on the Common Stage. After grabbing some water and taking a watching brief, however, my knee cried “enough”, so we forewent the potential hike back and hour’s wait for Castle headliners Bastille, instead sneaking through the Common Backstage to the car park thanks to a kindly steward who took pity on my hobbling. Home at 10.30 after a generally quite successful day; more places to sit would be nice, but maybe I was only more cognisant of this due to my bad knee. More importantly, everyone we wanted to see delivered big time, with We Are Scientists winning Band Of The Day for me, Logan going for White Lies. Overall, a great day out, living up to its name; Victorious!