1,400 BLONDSHELL, Westside Cowboy, Bristol Electric (formerly SWX), Monday 8th September 2025

 

Another numerical milestone is achieved, and in fact, this gig represented another, possibly more significant milestone, that being the first gig I attended since my retirement from work last Friday! No intention of retiring from gigs or discovering “new” bands just yet though, hence tonight’s host. I’d initially slept on Blondshell, the more manageable nom du guerre for NYC expat Sabrina Mae Tietelbaum, when her eponymous first album emerged a couple of years ago, but picked up and largely enjoyed her 2025 sophomore effort, “If You Asked For A Picture”. Some serious early 90’s college rock/ post-grunge slacker vibes a la Blake Babies, Lemonheads and even my brief mid-90’s fave Tracy Bonham, underpinned by Sabrina’s clear, smoky voice, and featuring in “23’s A Baby”, a lovely slice of melancholy with a layered harmony choral hook and a definite contender for my “Best of 2025” Compo CD. A Bristol date, even in an already-crowded early Autumn Dance Card, seemed quite an enticing prospect, then…

I remembered that occasional gig friend Paul (the gent from Chiseldon at that 2022 War On Drugs gig (gig no. 1,219)) mentioning Blondshell before, so after I mentioned this gig to him, I had some company! A zoom down the M4 chatting music and life experiences got us parked up and joining a surprisingly long queue about 10 minutes before doors. Grabbed a spot half a dozen rows back, house left, noting the large proliferation of young females in tonight’s audience. Not quite at Eli-worshipping Inhaler levels, but still… Westside Cowboy took the stage to a surprisingly shrill reception at 8; I’d seen an initially noisy yet ultimately varied and intriguing set from this lot in support of Personal Trainer earlier this year (gig 1,371) and it was immediate from the outset that they’d developed notably since then; following their dusty Spaghetti Western soundtrack opening, “The Boys” was a racey metronomic indie delight with a hooky chorus recalling The Beths and an excellent build to a noisy false ending, and “I Never Met Anyone…” a Buffalo Tom-esque loud-quiet-loud 90’s college pop-athon. Great start! My set highlight from last time, “Scaring Me Now” – apparently correctly titled “Drunk Surfer” – was again a rocking and soaring mid-set highlight, before they delved into their more rhythmic America-tinged side, albeit via “The Wahs”, whose chiming opening riff sounded to me like Ash’s “Burn Baby Burn”, no less! A band definitely starting to deliver on their promise, then, this once again varied and very fine indeed set was bookended with their one-mic tubthumping campfire singalong “In The Morning”. Follow that, Blondshell!

Much busier at this time around our spot – if this wasn’t a sellout on the night, it sure felt like it from where we stood… The lights cut prompt at 9 and the band took the stage quickly, Sabrina last, and straight into their best number “23’s A Baby”, the plaintive 60’s soda bar verse melody ceding to the harmonic chorus, Sabrina and her bassist duetting on those harmonies but not sounding as full and lush as on CD. “Toy” was robust 90’s college pop with an Alvvays undercurrent, and a decent opening triad also featured “Docket”, Sabrina intoning her vocals like a “University”-era Kristen Hersh over this mid-paced moody Muse-piece. 

Unfortunately, that was about as good as it got for me. “Sepsis”, despite being greeted with screams from the faithful, was a dull sub-Alannis slow-burn introspective confessional, which sadly seemed to inform the remainder of the set. I’d enjoyed listening to both Blondshell albums in the car of late, whilst recognising that “23’s A Baby” is their best number by far, but “live”, that same material came across as understated and uninspired, and quickly sank into a trough of turgid post-grunge slacker meh. Paul had excused himself early in the set to find a seat at the back, and I joined him 2/3rds of the way through the set, after a pit-stop at the merch stand to compliment and chat with the Westside Cowboy folks (and later, to show them I’d just downloaded their EP from Bandcamp!). He was very much of the same view (even more so, in fact; having seen them at the Thekla on their last tour, he was flatly disappointed with tonight’s performance in comparison with that Dirty Boat show!); no doubt, this was going down a storm with their young faithful, but to us 60’s somethings, it felt like the same teen angst with a different pair of striped trousers. So. halfway through the encore, we left.

Dropped Paul off about 11 after a chatty drive home, musing on tonight’s showing. Not the best performance from the headliner for my significant milestone, then, but the night wasn’t a complete wash musically, given the rise of Westside Cowboy. So, as the 2003 Boston Red Sox used to say, time to “Cowboy Up”!

1,399 JEHNNY BETH, Bristol Rough Trade Records, Wednesday 3rd September 2025

 

Savages were probably the most exciting and potential-packed band to emerge from a fairly moribund early 20-teens UK music scene, burning brightly and incandescently with a snarling blend of sinister bass-led intense post-punk and an undeniable manifesto-led gang mentality, ultimately (for me at least) reviving my coasting interest in discovering new bands of that ilk and paving the way (again, for me) for the likes of Desperate Journalist, Coach Party and October Drift. Strangely, given their all-inclusive collectiveness, their star burned as briefly as it burned bright, the band being done after their second album in 2017, with lead singer and agitator-in-general Jehnny Beth sneaking out a considerably more reflective (and much quieter!) solo album in “To Love Is To Live” 3 years later before disappearing again, apparently to concentrate on other forms of media and expression. So, all quiet on the Western front… until news of a new album together with some snippets of considerably more overt noise emerged on Facebook, along with a couple of London dates which I gave consideration to, but ultimately sadly dismissed given the already-packed nature of my Autumn Dance Card. What I need, I thought, is a Bristol Rough Trade meet and greet show for the new album… patience was rewarded, and I gleefully booked when this one cropped up!

Coming to the end of my tenure at work, I’d been in the office a couple of days on the trot, so understandably came home today with a bit of a headache. A lie down, a couple of Anadin Extra and a late departure, however, and I was off down the M4, parking up at 7 and browsing the books in the RT shop before popping into the back-room venue about 20 past. This was already very busy indeed – seemed I wasn’t the only one happily anticipating Jehnny’s return! I grabbed a spot about halfway back for the onstage arrival of Jehnny and her band (who’d all been brazenly sitting in the RT Café since I’d arrived), prompt at 7.30. A quick greeting from the singer, then straight into the dynamic, itchy backbeat and Rage-like squalling pre-middle 8 chant of newie “Broken Rib”, immediately setting the tone both for tonight’s show and the new material. 

Without a doubt, with this new album “You Heartbreaker, You”, Jehnny Beth has brought back the noise. Visceral, caustic, breathless, grungy, dirty, riff heavy, underpinned with sleazoid bass patterns variously recalling the works of Peter Hook or Dead Kennedys’ Klaus Fluoride, this set was uneasy, savage (small-s!) yet thrilling listening, conveyed with the usual wide-eyed conviction by Jehnny, her musical and personal partner Johnny Hostile, and their young bandmates. A shout out for Big Jeff from Jehnny (“don’t be jealous, I love you all… just him a little bit more…!”) preceded the punky blast of “High Resolution Sadness” and a foray from the singer into the crowd, getting all up in punters’ grills; an early cover of Bjork’s “Army Of Me” was stomped all over with big beetle-crushing boots; and a namecheck by Jehnny for Hostile (“he played every instrument on the record – I did fuck all!”) preceded a taut, uneasy “Obsession”, probably my favourite of the new material, with a slow-crawl build resembling Echo And The Bunnymen’s “Crown Of Thorns” busting into a noisy crescendo.

A penultimate cover of US post-hardcore band Quicksand’s “Inversion” preceded Jehnny complimenting the crowd and Bristol in general (“it’s always been really great to play here, [so] we’ll be back!”), final number “I See Your Pain” featuring a comparatively soft, almost pastoral opening prior to the trademark acerbic and grungy chorus, rounding off a splendidly noisy set.

A quick queue, then an entertaining chat with the Star Of The Show and “Mr”/ “Sir”/ “Lord” Hostile, my also reminding Jehnny of our brief encounter in Forbidden Planet on Record Store Day 2014 (gig 912/913) which she claimed to remember (not so sure about that, but I’ll take the implied compliment…), and I then hit the road via Taka for a snacka. Back at half past nine, reflecting on a proper return to form. On the evidence of tonight, then, Jehnny Beth has rediscovered her voice and is back as snarling and savage as before…!

1,398 DUTCH MUSTARD, Baby Universe, The Hunger, Bristol Louisiana, Friday 29th August 2025

 

This year seems to be turning into another one where most new “indie” bands are either hectoring me in flat and aggressive monotones as if from Speaker’s Corner, or simply sound flat and bored, following the IMHO not very good examples of the likes of Fontaines DC and Wet Leg respectively, with brand new bands of genuine interest to me few and far between. Oddly, the ones I’ve really enjoyed are predominantly female fronted, with a definite sonic bent towards dark shimmering shoegaze. So step forward Heartworms, Deep Sea Diver and this lot Dutch Mustard, who have beguiled me with a couple of splendid new tracks this year in “Life” and particularly the fine, pacey yet haunting “Dreaming”, prompting me to book tix to catch them “live” at close quarters in the snug confines of the Louie’s upstairs room. Apt also, that DM tonight are kicking off a possibly unprecedented run for me, being the first of 7 in a row by female-fronted bands! 

Left a bit later tonight, heading off at 7 for a quick run to the Louie car park. No parking shenanigans tonight, so I hit a curiously quiet Louisiana at 8 with the rope still across the stairs! The place was still very quiet by the time the bands kicked off, a bare dozen or so punters upstairs to greet painfully young 4-piece openers The Hunger at 8.30. From the outset, though, they were determined to leave an impression, playing to those there rather than those absent, lead singer Billy Barratt at one point abandoning the stage to physically push the audience closer! Early soaring rocker “Fallen Soldier” recalled Inhaler’s faster moments; a couple of helium fast indie blasts reminded me of old 90’s faves Marion; then they pulled up a mate onstage for Bez duties during a swaggering “Accelerate”. A couple of quiet/ load grunge-adjacent thrash-athons rounded off a swift set replete with bagfuls of youthful chutzpah, enthusiasm and no shortage of tuneage. Impressive stuff!

Main support Baby Universe were on after a quick changeover at 9; closer to tonight’s headliners in their shoegazey sonic template, they however suffered both in comparison to the sheer blistering energy of the openers, their material being largely slower and more atmospheric, but also struggled with the sound, layers of guitar tending to submerge the statuesque female vocalist’s work, and rendering the set a bit of a monotone and discordant greyscale canvas, with only the odd lilting vocal rising above the noise. Midway through a stripped-back plodder which reminded me of Sade (!). I took a wander downstairs, perusing the poster in the pub listing now-famous Louisiana “alumni” such as Green Day (!) and The National (!!) who’d previously graced that upstairs stage, and popped outside for a quick chat with a buoyant Hunger vocalist Billy. Back up for BU’s last number “Just Like TV”, which actually proved to be their best, a more upbeat dreampop number with an actual discernible hook, so maybe there’s some hope for them after all…

I kept my spot near the front, house right, for another quick turnaround, as striking Dutch Mustard vocalist Sarah-Jayne Riedel, pristeen in sheer black top and black rah-rah microskirt and exuding Spanish film-star class, directed set-up operations then asked, “shall we just go for it?” Kicking off at 9.35 with the wistful, early Lush-like “Song For Dreamers”, the sound was immediately crystal clear, allowing Sara-Jayne’s plangent harmonic vocals to deservedly take centre stage. Seemingly in fantasy band camp throughout, the singer evidently relished her time in the spotlight, gushing “we absolutely fucking love Bristol!” before an atmospheric, early Ride-like “Something To You” and the more Belly-esque alt-college pop of “Thank You”, then informing us that this is their debut headlining tour before the slower-burn, stately melancholy of “Loser”. Oldie “Magnifique” was a darker, brooding goth-tinged piece, but the upbeat melodic drive and layered choral harmonies of “Dreaming”, next up, was my set highlight. A couple of upbeat, almost punky blasts in “What The People Want” and “Life” recalled current faves Coach Party, with Sarah-Jayne bouncing kinetically across the stage and belting out the lyrics like a scalded cat, before the more typical shoegazey dreampop of “Feel Everything” closed out an excellent and surprisingly varied set, delivered with style, panache and a permanent grin from the vivacious Sarah-Jayne. Shame more people weren’t here to see it… 

Grabbed a list and a brief chat with the friendly DM singer afterwards, Sarah-Jayne thanking me for dancing (hmmm, she should have seen me on Tuesday…). Thanks and compliments before I got back to the car just before my ticket expired, a quick blast getting me home for 11.30. Another fine night out in Bristol, then; excellent newcomers in The Hunger, but Dutch Mustard, and Sarah-Jayne in particular, showed some real star quality and intriguing variation in their alt-indie based musical oeuvre. Methinks it won’t be too long before they feature on a Louisiana “alumni” poster themselves; Dutch Mustard are hot stuff and are going places fast!

1,397 MICHAEL SHANNON AND JASON NARDUCY play the songs of R.E.M., Bristol Thekla, Tuesday 26th August 2025

 

A hectic gigging Autumn launches with another mission of redemption for one of my favourite bands, namely R.E.M! As I’d discussed as part of my “Forever Now” 2025 review (gig 1,392), I’d first seen Athen’s finest support U2 in 1985 at Milton Keynes Bowl, where they’d kicked off a set following The Ramones with a real downer, the slow, morose and moody “Feeling Gravity’s Pull” from their then-current album “Fables Of The Reconstruction”, and I walked away… I realised the error of my ways 2 years later and ultimately saw R.E.M. a total of 8 times, so I was well up for this gig when I heard about it; Jason Narducy, Bob Mould’s right-hand bandmate, and granite faced US character actor Michael Shannon plus “friends” (including Bob Mould/ Superchunk drummer Jon Wurster and Dag Juhlin, formerly of eclectic 80’s lot Poi Dog Pondering and apparently a friend of my Gravel Pit mate Ed Valauskas!), playing a set of R.E.M material “live”, and apparently with the blessing of all 4 original members? I’m in! The fact that this tour ironically showcased that “Fables” album also gave me a chance to stay put for “Gravity’s” this time…!

Given that we’d originally recognised each other at an R.E.M. gig in May 1989 (gig 129), it was no surprise that Beef was up for this too. We hit the road at 5.45, arriving in good time but then suffering an absolute payment-mare involving broken meters, meters eating my cash for no ticket, and useless apps! I eventually drove to the nearby Louisiana car park, otherwise I might have ripped a meter off its pole in anger and hoyed it into the harbour! Nonetheless, we were still in for 7, grabbing a stage front spot, house right, next to occasional Devizes gig buddy Alfie. Recent gig friend Jeremy joined us as well, and lively rock chat passed the time, until the lights dimmed at 8 in front of a by-now full and expectant house. The band then took the stage, the great-coated Shannon last, greeting us with a soft, “hi,” before the ominous opening riff of “Gravity’s” rang out… 

“Fables”, R.E.M’s third, somewhat troubled album, was a development from the understated yet upbeat Rickenbacker jangle of their first two, delving into more Violent Femmes backwoods alt-country, albeit with a gloomier, almost macabre American gothic atmosphere at times, exemplified by this opening track. Fears that it might drag however were totally unfounded; it sounded great, no surprise really given the quality of the players, but vocalist Shannon also immediately demonstrated this was no vanity project on his behalf, his voice low, dark and authoritative, completely suiting the material. The Byrsdian gallop of “Driver 8” was a brilliant early highlight, after which Shannon commented on tonight’s “happening house,” some wag down the front (ok, me…) replying, “welcome to the dirty boat!” to his delight. Shannon then related the meaning of “Life And How To Live It” before the song’s undulating gallop, and Narducy later took the mic to lament his food poisoning episode during his last Bristol visit with Bob Mould in 2016 (gig 1,006) before the “Fables” outlier, the joyful shape-throwing funk of “Can’t Get There From Here”, by which time I was seriously working up a sweat in my front row spot, duly noted by Narducy (or was it my R.E.M album cover shirt?). The squalling behemoth of “Auctioneer” ceded to a beautiful, melancholy rendition of “Wendell Gee” to close out the “Fables” run through, Shannon commenting on R.E.M’s propensity for cover versions prior to an excellently observed “Femme Fatale”, which rounded off a waaaay better than expected first set. 

Barely time for a loo break before part two, a “scattershot” set through R.E.M.’s canon, albeit one which studiously avoided their well-known tracks, taking the path less trodden and rewarding the faithful. The strident and angular “Strange” preceded Shannon oddly inquiring, “everyone got the right shoes on?” SWDTF (again, me...) replying “Jon [Wurster] has!” the drummer favouring the same TUK creepers as me! “Bandwagon” was a jolly singalong and the subsequent “Gardening At Night” a superb descending thrill-ride; the haunting and prescient “World Leader Pretend” was preceded by Shannon commenting they’d been playing that one a lot in the States, “because… why wouldn’t you?”; the irresistible hurtling metronome of “Sitting Still” was my set highlight thus far; but that was immediately eclipsed by the wonderfully soaring and anthemic chorus of a heartfelt “Cuyahoga” to round off set two.

Shannon and Narducy then opened up a 5-song encore by two-handing a stripped back and plaintive “So. Central Rain”, Shannon impressively holding that final note in full-on Stipe fashion. A brilliant night’s rock was then ultimately climaxed with heartfelt thanks from Shannon, a promise to return next year to tour “Life’s Rich Pageant” (my favourite R.E.M. album! Yay!), and the inevitable closer, the embryonic post-punk chugalong “Radio Free Europe” before the band took a full deserved bow to acclaim, and I, finally, took a breath, sweaty and soaked from all my dancing! A passing Dag handed me the list, then a quick Boston-centric chat with the man afterwards and a catch up with Bristol friend Keeley preceded a shirtless walk back to the car and an euphoric drive home. Just a brilliant, celebratory night, a timeless and classic band done complete justice by Shannon, Narducy and co. As Shannon himself commented, “god bless R.E.M,” but god bless you fine gents as well!

1,396 WE ARE SCIENTISTS, Bristol Rough Trade, Tuesday 22nd July 2025

 

Another Rough Trade album release/ meet and greet show, then, this one showcasing the new release (another one! Already!) from prolific, chameleonic and now-veteran NYC indie roustabouts We Are Scientists. Since I reconnected with this quixotic trio in 2021, they’d delivered 3 damn fine “live” performances for me (including Band of the Day honours at the 2022 Victorious Festival (gig. 1,240)) and a couple of quite contrasting albums in the brash, buoyant and bullish powerpop of “Huffy” and the smoother, silkier synth shenanigans of its successor “Lobes”. So, when they announced a small Rough Trade album release tour in support of new, 9^th (!) effort “Qualifying Miles”, I booked for this early evening Bristol date, interested to see what direction their ongoing musical odyssey would take next.

I wasn’t the only one so intrigued either, as this one sold out in short order, prompting the addition of a Matinee show! So, anticipating a very busy (and hot!) one in this small back room, and also desirous of a quick getaway afterwards to catch as much as possible of England’s clashing Women’s Euros semi-final (c’mon you Lionesses!), I set off later than usual with the intention of hanging back for WAS’ set. Parked up and got in just about 10 past 7, taking a space ¾ back, house left, in the already very full venue. This is going to bake…

We Are Scientists wasted no time either, joining us dead on 7.30, with snowy-capped vocalist Keith Murray already announcing, “wow, you guys have made it very hot in here!” before bassist Chris Cain deadpanned, “we’ve been planning this event for years, we just needed the album… it needed a lot of admin!” They then opened up with a couple off said new album, and it immediately became apparent that, with the off-kilter echoey discordancy of opener “Please Don’t Say It” and the brooding, descending slo-grunge and terrace chant choral hook of the subsequent “Big One”, that “Qualifying Miles” had advanced the 80’s synth sound of its’ predecessor “Lobes” by a full decade, with some distinctly 90’s US alt-rock guitar licks. Intriguing… 

The choppy guitar angst of oldie “Buckle” preceded another newie in the plaintive alt-country of “At The Mill In My Dreams” – track 11 on the album according to Keith, which prompted a discussion as to whether anyone even makes it that far on a record! “Put it on shuffle!” was the helpful suggestion from one punter down the front, prompting a dismissive cry from the vocalist. The herky jerky math rock of first album standout “The Great Escape” followed, the boys suggesting this was a Timothee Chalamet cover (!), before another slo-grunger in the Promise Ring-esque “I Could Do Much Worse” continued to underline the sonic template of this new release.

“Do another one!” screamed another front-row punter, the quickfire Keith responding with “Shit! We were going to do that; now it looks as if we’re following your lead!” “A Lesson I Never Learned” was a rather moving newie, its’ pathos at odds with the ebullient between-song banter from the boys, then the staccato one-note riffery of oldie “Nobody Move, Nobody Get Hurt” raised the temperature even further with a front row mosh (even standing ¾ back and swaying along gently, I was working up a considerable sweat and had long abandoned my ill-thought out extra shirt). But the set highlight for me was the sparkling and absorbing VU/ Stereolab-ish layered drone-rock and anthemic hook of “What You Want Is Gone”, a very likely contender for inclusion on my “Best of 2025” compo CD. The boys then thanked Bristol (“our favourite UK city!”) before the whip-smart intricate hook of a hard-rocking “After Hours” rounded off another excellent We Are Scientists performance – a bloody hot one as well!

I stuck to my pre-gig plans, with a quick exit from the venue affording me a spot near the front of the queue for the album signing and meet and greet. Happily, the boys were out quickly too, so I grabbed a pic and a few words with an affable trio, before heading off for an air-conditioned drive home, grabbing a late kebab tea and catching the last half hour plus extra time of the Lionesses’ dramatic semi-final win. So, an excellent result in more ways than one, and on the evidence of tonight, the new 90’s alt-indie vibes of “Qualifying Miles” might just prove a genius move from We Are Scientists, and be one of their best albums to date…!

1,395 MIDWAY STILL, The Charlemagnes, Oxford Bullingdon Arms (Front Room), Tuesday 15th July 2025

 

Well, this is becoming a bit of a habit… and a most welcome one as well, I might add… A mere 370 days and 60 gigs (for me) after the last time (gig 1,335, last July), and for the 4^th time in 5 years and 16^th time overall, 90’s “live” favourites Midway Still make another “slight return” to my Dance Card, with yet another tongue in cheek “World Tour”, this time taking in an Oxford gig as the nearest date to the ‘don. Given that I was actually there the last time they played the “city of dreaming spires”, at Jericho Tavern waaay back in April 1992 (gig 208, where, it should be noted, they drew more people for that gig than Pulp did at the same venue a month later!), I was well up for yet another dose of their noisy, ramshackle yet eminently tune-laden brand of 90’s post-grungy US-influenced Husker/Dino/Lemon/Tom-esque indie rock.

Happily, after a break of a year due to a clashing holiday, Tim was on board as well, so we headed off through ominous drizzle, parking up easily in the old Tesco car park, and heading across the road to the venue. First thing to note was that we entered through the storefront into the front bar, as the gig was in this smaller room rather than the more spacious (yet still not particularly large) usual back-room venue. Second thing was that no-one seemed to have an interest in serving us at the bar, so sod it, we went dry! Paul, Russell and Dec, collectively AKA the Fine Gentlemen of The Still, joined us shortly after for warm greetings and brief words with both us and a number of the early comers, before openers The Charlemagnes kicked off dead on 8 pm. Featuring Ben Harding of 90’s indie hopefuls The Senseless Things, this lot eschewed the taut hyper-brisk colourful indie pop of his former charges in favour of some more 70’s CBGB’s bluesy sleazoid proto-punk noise, with occasional Dinosaur Jr-esque laze rock riffery (esp. during a later “Not Everyone”). “Legitimate Concerns” was a bit of an outlier, featuring some tuneful choral harmonies, and I liked their closing version of Leatherface’s overlooked Geordie rocker anthem “Not Superstitious”, but my favourite part of the set was the burly bassist staring through the open door to the Tesco opposite and commenting, “it’s really weird [playing while watching] people doing their shopping!”

I’d missed a chunk of the Charlemagnes’ set as my tummy unexpectedly started playing up but nonetheless took a spot down the front for the Still, ready to rock out as best as my 6-decades old self would allow. Kill or cure, then… The boys took the stage to the minimum of fuss, Paul confessing, “this is like some weird family reunion – I know everyone in the audience by name!” That being so, said familiarity bred a nonchalant, relaxed vibe; nothing to prove to anyone here, The Still ploughed into this opening night set with their usual hard rocking ease, opener “Claret” featuring some particular speedy drum rolls from animated drummer Dec. Paul complained of some guitar mix issues during “Note To Self” (“it’s like playing in your living room…”) but honestly, even from my front row vantage point, the mix sounded clear throughout. 

The merch man joined me in rocking down the front to his favourite, the rarely played “Apple”, and “Me In You” was an incendiary fire-breather as The Still really warmed to their task. In good fooling too, particularly Paul, for which every song was a “no thought required” or “needs some thought”, and the transition from the hardcore punkish “Fuck You” to the slower “tricky ballad” of “Drag To Care” was, “going from stupid to a bit more stupid!” “What You Said” was a powerful, Huster Du-esque mid-set highlight, followed by a mad story about Dec believing Martha and the Muffins won Eurovision! Inevitably, the joyous singalong of a brilliant “Better Than Before” (“our smash hit song from 1992!”) was a closing set highlight, although the boys remained onstage for the “encore”, Paul thanking all and sundry for coming, then me for, “dancing like a lunatic in front of us!” You’re welcome, bub! A blistering rampage through MBV’s “You Made Me Realise” segueing in with an equally breathless and hurtling “Come Down” then rounded off this remarkably swift-feeling hour-long, superbly well-rocking yet remarkably tight, intuitive and together (especially for opening night!) set from this veteran power trio.

Luckily no-one grabbed Paul’s list midway through the last number this time, so I scooped it up, along with a CD of last year’s Birmingham gig recording, before we had a quick catch-up on recent events with Paul, then bade fond farewells to the Still lads, pausing for Tesco eats to settle my tum (although my dancing to the Still was more “cure”, I’m glad to report…) then heading off home. Given that tonight’s turnout could best be described as a compact and bijou gathering of the devoted, I’m not sure how sustainable this yearly jaunt is going to be, but let’s face it… if Midway Still keep coming back, then so will we!

1,394 CHEEKFACE, MARTHA, Fresh, Bristol Strange Brew, Saturday 12th July 2025

 

The UK is in the grip of a serious heatwave, so what do I do on probably the hottest day of said spell? Why, go to a sell-out gig in a tiny venue in Bristol, of course! To be fair, this one was booked long before the mercury went haywire; a quick return to gigging action for North-East helium punk-popsters Martha, and at Strange Brew, the same venue where they tore it up last September (gig. 1,344), but this time in support (!) of quirky US indie newbies Cheekface! I’d liked bits of the Cheeksters’ stripped back, lyrically wry and comedic recorded output so far, particularly the They Might Be Giants through a Weezer filter vibe of “We Need A Bigger Dumpster” but I was intrigued to see how the joke might play out over a full hour. Particularly in a sweaty little venue, following such an overtly dynamic band such as Martha. We’ll see… 

My Dice app suggested doors were at 7, so I set off just after 6.15 for an air-conditioned drive down a baking M4, only to find I was ½ hour late, with openers Fresh already midway through their set! Damn shame, as what I heard was some spritely, fast and frantic C86-ish ramshackle indie pop, with some insistent overlaid choral harmonies recalling early Coach Party or even tonight’s headliners. Vocalist Kathryn was clearly up for it as well; “my bra is out, my boobs are out [they weren’t], my armpit hair is out… it’s the most fun I’ve had in years!” A slightly messy grunge/ thrash closer didn’t detract from a splendid opening set, prompting me to buy their “Raise Hell” CD and chat briefly with the ebullient vocalist afterwards. Apparently, most of Fresh’s set was new material too, being tour road-tested, so fingers crossed for a new album later this year… 

The place was already full and sweaty, so I grabbed a central spot a few rows back for Martha’s 7.50 entrance after a startlingly quick turnaround. In no mood to fuck about or make concessions to the heat, they ripped into their set in their usual rapid-fire manner, an early “Chekhov’s Hangnail” prompting an early singalong from this young, gender-fluid audience. “Happy Pride! Especially if you’re Trans!” Naomi announced after a jolly “Love Keeps Kicking”, introducing the subsequent broodier “Into This” with an ironic, “this is a love song…”; then the brash, breathless and acerbic “Hope Gets Harder” tore the venue a new one, drummer Nathan powering the number along and finishing with a “Tommy Gun” drum flourish.

Guitarist JC shared a story of getting in trouble in the supermarket earlier before “Supermarket Song”, then drummer Nathan announced a rarely/ never (?) played oldie, the urgent “Historian”, featuring excellent layered harmony vocals from all 4 band members, singing contrasting lyric lines, an oft-underappreciated feature of a number of Martha songs. Following a punkish blast through “Wrestlemania VIII”, the drummer then made an impassioned albeit carefully worded speech in support of Palestine to unanimous acclaim from the crowd, before a venomous set-highlight “Flag Burner”. The change of pace and gabbled vocal of “Bubble In My Bloodstream” closed a frenetic 45 minutes, after which, despite only swaying in my spot, I looked like someone had dumped a bucket of water over me! Still, well worth it for another excellent Martha set…

Took a breather outside (as, it seemed, did most of the audience!) before heading back in just before the headliners, as the PA blasted TMBG’s “Birdhouse In Your Soul”. A bit on the nose, that…! Cheekface themselves emerged behind a marching band fanfare backing track, a buoyant opener in “Popular” (no, not that one…) followed swiftly by vocalist Greg Katz’ slower, monotone rap during “Best Life” and even more robotic vocal delivery of “Featured Singer”, segueing into an audience participation of “Cha Cha Slide”.

And therein lies my problem with Cheekface; as much as I enjoyed Katz’ deadpan, Richman-esque vocal delivery during the subsequent “We Need A Bigger Dumpster” (which was excellent, the laconic stripped-back verse bursting into a huge, stomping Weezer-esque chorus), too much of it made the early material sound flat and plodding, the laconic and intricately humorous nature of the lyrics also being a bit lost for me in the process. The between song banter (shticks about Bristol being “an important entertainment market” and a quip about air-con having not made it across the Atlantic) was also delivered in the same inexpressive manner, and (despite clearly being the only one with this view in this enthusiastic crowd), I was really holding out for something to liven Cheekface’s performance up a few notches… 

Luckily it arrived, and via an unlikely source; Katz introduced, “an original Cheekface composition,” in “Noodles”, a song to rival Sebadoh’s “Chip Butty” in its subject matter, brevity and utter silliness, then in a fun “Groundhog Day” moment, played the damn thing 3 times! After that, the set picked up considerably in both pace and buoyant mood; “When Life Hands You Problems” was a superfast gabbling punky blast, and whilst I could have done without the “Give It Away” rap in an otherwise fine drum-propelled “Military Gum”, the subsequent “Eternity Leave” was a great We Are Scientists-like slice of alt-powerpop, and the upbeat Smiths jangle of “Art House” even better. The relentlessly jolly “Middle East” preceded a diatribe from Katz about the need for community in this fucked-up world, before the jumpy Weezer-isms of “Listen To Your Heart” rounded off a variable set which finished very strongly and largely won this old cynic over in the end.

 A quick R.E.M-centric chat with Bristol gig friend Louise down the front afterwards, then a sweaty drive home, hitting a stationary bank of traffic on the M32 for 10 minutes or so as an accident was cleared, but still getting back for a late doner wrap tea and home about 11.30. A fine night overall, then; a promising new band in Fresh, Cheekface were fun albeit a bit inconsistent (as I’d anticipated in all honesty), but Martha won out for me, having really raised the temperature on a hot and sweaty night, with another excellent set!