Rock Gigs | Music Boats

Black Country, New Road live at Brudenell Social Club review – a sublime resurrection
27
May

When frontman Isaac Wood left Black Country, New Road just days before the release of what may become one of the best albums of the decade, the survival of the band looked far from guaranteed. The now six-piece chamber rock outfit return just months later for an intimate UK tour with a remarkable set of unreleased music, regrouped, revitalised and ready to take on the world once more.

Of all the places to be in the UK in the early evening of Sunday 22 May 2022, the beer garden of Brudenell Social Club must surely have been one of the most thrilling. The entire city, in fact, was in party mode with the news of Leeds United’s dramatic and successful finish to the season, and as I walked to meet my friend Joe at the train station, cheering boozy blokes and chants of “we are staying up!” outnumbered the usual motorbike revs and ambulance sirens. The atmosphere outside the Brudenell – a universally adored Leeds institution and the beating heart in the student-filled Hyde Park area – was doubly electrifying: Black Country, New Road were in town for one night only.

What made this gig in particular so exciting was the feeling that BC,NR seem capable of much bigger venues. Their debut album For the first time rapidly earned them a passionate core following of on the pulse young post punk and jazz fans, and the acclaim only grew with February’s unbelievable and more radio friendly Ants From Up There, an album venerated by just about every music critic in the land. Take your pick of any national newspaper, the chances are they gave Ants From Up There all five stars, and deservedly so. It was seemingly all going so smoothly for the Cambridge band until days before that album’s release, when frontman Isaac Wood abruptly left the band, citing mental health difficulties. Just as they were reaching their all time high, it looked like it might all come crashing down on BC,NR. Every song that they had built their career on so far was rendered unperformable in the absence their idiosyncratic lead vocalist. Ants From Up There is a devastating listen as it is, but the fact that such a popular masterpiece will never reach the stage added a piercing undercurrent of tragedy. Planned shows – including several gigs in the US plus a visit to Leeds – were suddenly cancelled, Covid-style. Announced last month, this modest UK tour was billed as an intimate warm-up to a summer of festivals across Europe, and an opportunity for the band to regroup and road test an hour long set of completely new music before taking it to the continent and eventually the recording studio. Joe and I may have been disappointed about missing out on hearing material from the albums we both so loved (I’m convinced Basketball Shoes would have been nothing short of life-changing live), but instead the gig at the Brudenell offered an almost as riveting showcase of what might come next for BC,NR.

May Kershaw, on piano, accordion and lead vocals, was a standout performer

The applause from the packed crowd (tickets sold out in a few hours) was long and enthusiastic when the six remaining members of BC,NR took to the stage. When cheers subsided, Lewis Evans opened with some quiet saxophone, soon joined by singing bassist Tyler Hyde (a candidate for new lead vocalist easily predicted by the most well-informed BC,NR superfans). Suddenly, with no warning whatsoever, all six musicians kicked into gear with startling synchronicity, with May Kershaw’s hands bouncing high on the piano and Nina Lim’s violin bow already beginning to fray under the weight of the heavy rock groove. The distant yelps of giddy fans could be heard over the cacophony. It all felt like beautiful confirmation of what we had all hoped; their frontman may have gone, but the unmatched creativity and exhilarating volatility of BC,NR’s music isn’t going anywhere.

One key silver lining was that, in Wood’s absence, several band members were finally given a voice. Hyde led the way, her passionate and often pained lead vocals one of the night’s many highlights. Underrated pianist Kershaw and her pristine, silky smooth voice was perhaps even better, and a nice change of pace from Wood’s abrasive sprechgasang. She was well appointed for the night’s quieter moments, impressing with an ambitious episodic folk piece early in the set which saw her play both accordion and piano at the same time. The most surprising lead vocalist of the night was Evans who, plonked front and centre of stage, often looked and sounded worryingly diffident, invariably clutching the mic stand beside him for support. It may take time for Evans’ wobbly vocals to shore up, but his songs seemed strong. “In my dream you came running to me / Can’t you fall back into my arms?” was one particularly touching moment, Evans’ introversion highlighting the song’s pained vulnerability. Drums swelled at the end of the track and chaos briefly ensued and as Evans quietly put the mic back on its stand and picked up his flute, the impulse was to hug him and tell him he’s doing great.

Tyler Hyde’s bowed bass guitar gave added menace in the crucial moments

Stylistic suprises were to be expected, and BC,NR didn’t disappoint. Beyond Kershaw’s accordion shanty, there were occasional splashes of classical music, including Tyler conducting her own ensemble of flute, violin and piano at one point. The saxophone/violin combo continues to be an intoxicating one (see the stunningly quiet opening minutes of Basketball Shoes, or the closing passages of Mark’s Theme), and Evans blended beautifully with Lim, who stood in for Georgia Ellery on the night as she embarks on her own UK tour with popular electronic duo Jockstrap. It was a shame that technical issues and incessant screeches from mic feedback tainted these quieter, acoustic moments in the first half of the set.

Pianist May Kershaw is classically-trained, and it’s not difficult to tell. She was the star of the penultimate song, a sublime piece that stood head and shoulders above the evening’s other excellent compositions. The rest of the band sat and listened intently as she played and sang on her own, her delicate, deliberate piano playing a marvel throughout. Later, the other five returned to their instruments to support Kershaw as the song swelled and sighed, before building once more in a final, monumental climax. “I’m only a pig,” Kershaw sang over and over, the final word spat out with increasingly bitter vehemence as the dense orchestration materialised around her. Hyde’s bowed bass guitar underpinned it all brilliantly, generating a mighty, floor-shaking rumble that propelled Kershaw’s subtle little piano ballad to new heights. The long wait to hear a studio verson of this “pigs” song begins now.

A gig like this was never going to be about the songs alone, and BC,NR set out to prove that they could still shine even without Wood. They did so magnificently in a show that revealed new aspects of a band bursting with ideas – to come up with such a strong 60-minutes of material just three months after releasing an album is an astonishing feat. The whole night was summed up best during the opening song, when the rollicking power pop paused for a moment of group vocals. “Look at what we did together / BC,NR, friends forever,” they sang in unison. It was an adorably earnest and perhaps cheesy moment that neatly put into words the unmistakable bond of this talented group of friends. After all the uncertainty of the spring, there’s nothing that can get in the way of BC,NR now. Let the good times roll.

The Beths live at Brudenell Social Club review – bubbly, light and a little safe
22
Apr

10,000 miles away from home, the fact that New Zealand indie rock outfit The Beths sold out Leeds’ Brudenell Social Club is remarkable in itself. What’s more, Elizabeth Stokes’ confessional yet light-hearted compositions were warmly received, even if her set lacked ambition.

Iam often amazed when I arrive at gigs to walk into a room packed full of people that all share a love of a single artist or band. When I’m with likeminded friends or at a gig the magnitude of something like Sam Fender in an arena it’s less remarkable, but when I’m stepping out of a cab in Hyde Park and joining a small queue outside the Brudenell for a rock band that has long been a private affection of mine, it’s a very strong feeling indeed. Having travelled from the other side of the world, the Beths were in our corner of Yorkshire for one night only and, ensconsed in the growing hubbub of bona fide fans, it felt like quite the occasion.

My surprise about the crowd should do nothing to belittle a band very much on the rise, not least in their home country, where they were one spot away from landing themselves a number one album with 2020’s solid Jump Rope Gazers. Sunny vocal harmonies help them stand out from the vast number of traditional four-piece rock bands around the world, as does their frontwoman Elizabeth Stokes, whose light, somewhat aloof vocal style is a surprisingly good match for her unfettered and confessional lyricism. Tonight her nonchalance is on full display, punfunctorily announcing her band name and their Aukland origin in the aftermath of screeching opener I’m Not Getting Excited. Even Stokes found it hard to stifle a smile as the crowd cheered and waved; an opening, repeated single guitar note is a well known rock trope, and on this song it was effective as ever in building anticipation for the first entry of the competent and confident performers around Stokes.

Only occasionally did the band regain the giddy heights of their strong opener. Cosy rock ballad Jump Rope Gazers was one highlight and perhaps the best singalong number of the night. Here Stokes’ vulnerable songwriting is shown at its most poignant. “I think I loved you the whole time, how could this happen?” she wailed to us heartbreakingly. The belting Uptown Girl – probably the punkiest two minutes and 43 seconds of the Beths’ discography to date – was an inspired choice of follow-up, with Stokes drowning out her sorrows and flexing her lead guitar muscles with one nut-tight riff after another. Throw in the sweet falsetto harmonies of Jonathan Pearce and Benjamin Sinclair, plus the furious snare fills of Tristan Deck and the result is the Beths at their exhilarating best.

Stokes’ songwriting may have been consistently good, but this routine showing did little to add to what we’d all already experienced on their two studio albums. Four-part vocal harmonies came at the cost of on-stage stasis, with every single performer tethered to the microphone set up in front of them. On such a small stage there’s little else they could have done, but any adaptation of the studio recordings whatsoever was sorely needed to make the gig feel like anything other than four musicians doing their job (albeit very well). Some endearing bandmate banter and compliments towards the Brudenell’s bespoke pastry offerings were about as special this set got.

Nonetheless, a band as rich in solid rock songs as the Beths can get away with not producing an all-round performance. It’s telling that even with the omission gritty debut single Idea/Intent and, tragically, Don’t Go Away (the best song from the band’s latest album), the set was not short on compelling songs. Po-faced guitarist Jonathan Pearce was suitably focused for the superbly squelchy guitar solo on Whatever before giving way to a chant of “baby, you’re breaking my heart!”. It was a hook so catchy and joyful the cliché lyrics only seemed to make the whole thing even more of a joy to experience. Little Death sounded much more impactful live, and the chorus spawned a surprisingly ferocious mosh pit that had me and the tamer fans around me periodically checking over our shoulders for the next time a crazed youth might barge into the back of us.

Jonathan Pearce and Elizabeth Stokes both gave solid performances on guitar

The set was not without lulls, not least an unnamed and unreleased song which on first listen sounded about as middle of the road as the Beths get. I remain unconvinced by the very risky and somewhat clumsy chorus on recent single A Real Thing and forgettable Dying to Believe was a disappointing closing number. It was the penultimate song, River Run: Lvl 1, that instead brought the emotional pinnacle of the night. Initially reflective and later propulsive, the song shifted between shades of Stokes’ raw emotions gracefully, with the sweet release of the chorus (“a river will run”) a surefire trigger for waterworks of a different kind amongst many of the fans around me. An awe-inspiring bridge was the one moment of the night where the four Kiwis managed to produce a piece of art that felt greater than themselves, and easily good enough to transcend the four walls of the Brudenell. For a few moments, I could well and truly lose myself in the flow of the music and, tellingly for the crowd around me, the reaction was calmed appreciation as opposed to manic moshing.

The Beths may be two full-length albums deep into their career, but there was a sense on the night that – to their credit or otherwise – bigger things are still to come for the Beths. The quality of the music is hugely promising, and a bigger, bolder performance from Stokes and her bandmates could easily turn the Beths’ live set into a force to be reckoned with. It may be years until they take another long haul flight or two back to the UK, but I feel certain they’ll be heading for grander venues armed with more remarkable sets. Let world domination ensue.

Sons of Kemet live at Gorilla review – a tour de force of British jazz
4
Mar

On a damp Tuesday night in Manchester, Gorilla felt less like a venue and more like a pressure cooker. The room was full an hour before the band took the stage. Not with people waiting politely. With people who knew what was coming.

Sons of Kemet are not a band you ease into. Two drummers, a tuba, and Shabaka Hutchings on saxophones and clarinet. No guitar. No piano. No bass. The rhythm section is the entire engine. And at Gorilla, that engine ran hot for 90 minutes straight.

What makes Sons of Kemet different from every other jazz band touring right now

Most jazz quartets follow a predictable architecture. Saxophone takes the melody. Piano or guitar comps behind it. Bass walks the changes. Drums keeps time. Sons of Kemet threw that blueprint out and burned it.

The lineup is the story. Two drummers — Eddie Hick and Tom Skinner — sit opposite each other, playing interlocking patterns that feel more like a West African drum choir than a jazz rhythm section. They don’t trade solos. They build polyrhythms that stack on top of each other until the room vibrates.

Theon Cross plays tuba. Not as a bass substitute. He plays melodic lines, walking bass, and percussive pops all at once. On stage, he’s the quiet anchor. His tuba lines lock the two drummers together while Hutchings floats over the top.

Hutchings himself is the wildcard. He switches between tenor sax, soprano sax, and bass clarinet mid-set. His playing is not polite. He overblows, growls, and uses circular breathing to hold notes that seem to last forever.

This is not background music. You cannot talk over it. The band demands your full attention, and at Gorilla, they got it.

The absence of harmony instruments

No piano or guitar means no chords. The entire harmonic structure comes from Cross’s tuba and Hutchings’s saxophone. That forces the music into a different space. Melodies are simpler. Rhythms are everything. It’s closer to Fela Kuti’s Afrobeat or the Art Ensemble of Chicago than anything from the Blue Note catalog.

If you’re new to this sound, start with Your Queen Is a Reptile (2018). That album captures the live energy better than their earlier records. But even that record doesn’t prepare you for the physical force of two drummers playing at full volume in a room that holds 500 people.

The setlist: what they played and why it matters

The band played material from all four studio albums, but the set leaned heavily on Your Queen Is a Reptile and Black to the Future (2026).

Song	Album	Live highlight
Hustle	Your Queen Is a Reptile	Cross’s tuba solo. 2 minutes of pure low-end power.
My Queen Is Ada Eastman	Your Queen Is a Reptile	Hutchings played bass clarinet. The crowd sang the riff back.
Pick Up Your Burning Cross	Black to the Future	Fastest tempo of the night. Drummers were visibly sweating.
Think of Home	Black to the Future	Slower, more meditative. Hutchings played soprano sax.
In the Castle of My Skin	Black to the Future	13-minute extended version. The band left the stage one by one, leaving Hick alone on drums for the final 3 minutes.

Every song was extended. The shortest piece ran 8 minutes. The longest pushed past 15. That’s not self-indulgence. The band needs that time to build the rhythmic layers. A 4-minute version of a Sons of Kemet song would be like serving a steak still raw.

How the sound at Gorilla shaped the show

Gorilla is a converted railway warehouse under the Mancunian Way. The ceiling is high. The walls are brick. The floor is flat. That combination creates a specific acoustic challenge: low frequencies can turn to mud, and drums can ring out longer than they should.

The sound engineer made smart choices. The tuba was DI’d through the PA rather than miked from the bell. That gave Cross’s low end clarity without boom. The kick drums were gated tightly to avoid bleed into the toms. Hutchings’s sax was the only instrument with reverb, and it was set dry — just enough to give space without washing out the rhythm section.

Standing at the front, near the left speaker stack, the kick drums hit your chest. Standing at the back, near the bar, the mix was more balanced but quieter. The sweet spot was center, about 10 rows back. That’s where the two drummers’ patterns locked into a single pulse.

Gorilla’s capacity is 550. The show was sold out. The crowd was mixed — older jazz heads in their 50s, students from the Royal Northern College of Music, and younger fans drawn by Hutchings’s work with The Comet Is Coming. Nobody stood still.

What the critics get wrong about Sons of Kemet

You’ll read reviews that call them “political jazz” or “protest music.” That’s lazy shorthand. Yes, Black to the Future has explicit political content — the title track references police violence and colonial history. But reducing the band to a message misses the point.

The politics is in the sound, not just the lyrics. Two Black British drummers playing Caribbean rhythms through a jazz framework. A Black British tuba player using an instrument historically associated with European marching bands to play funk lines. A saxophonist who studied in Barbados and brings that Caribbean phrasing into every solo. The music itself is the statement.

Another common criticism: the songs are too long. I’ve read reviews calling the extended jams “self-indulgent.” That’s a misunderstanding of how the band works. The length is structural. You need time to build the polyrhythms. You need time for the tuba and sax to find the melody within the rhythm. A 7-minute version of “In the Castle of My Skin” wouldn’t work. The song is the journey.

If you want tight 4-minute songs with verse-chorus structure, do not go to a Sons of Kemet show. You will be bored. Go see a pop band. This is music that asks you to sit with discomfort and repetition until the release comes.

How to get the most out of a Sons of Kemet live show

I’ve seen them four times now — once at a festival, twice at smaller venues, and this night at Gorilla. Here’s what I’ve learned.

Arrive early. The opening act matters. At Gorilla, the support was Manchester-based trumpeter Matthew Halsall. His quartet played a 30-minute set of modal jazz that set the right mood. Arriving late means missing the context.
Stand near the front, but not dead center. The drummers face each other. Standing slightly to one side lets you see the interaction between Hick and Skinner. That visual is half the show.
Do not talk during the quiet sections. There are moments when the band drops to near-silence — Cross playing a single note, Hutchings breathing into the horn. The crowd at Gorilla respected those moments. If you’re going to chat, go to the bar.
Bring earplugs. The drums are loud. Not “loud for a jazz show.” Loud. I wear Etymotic ER20XS plugs ($20). They cut the high-end harshness without muffling the mids. You’ll hear the tuba better with them in.
Stay for the encore. At Gorilla, the band came back for one song: a cover of John Coltrane’s “Africa.” It wasn’t on any setlist. It was a gift. If you leave early, you miss the best part.

Alternatives: when you should skip Sons of Kemet and see something else

I love this band. But they are not for everyone. Here’s when you should skip them.

If you want quiet, contemplative jazz — the kind you can read a book to — go see the Brad Mehldau Trio or Bill Frisell. Sons of Kemet is the opposite of that.

If you want traditional bebop or hard bop, you will be confused. This is not Charlie Parker. This is not Art Blakey. The rhythms are Caribbean and West African. The solos are long and repetitive. The tuba is not a joke instrument here — it’s the harmonic foundation.

If you have a low tolerance for volume, sit at the back or skip it entirely. The drummers play hard. The tuba is amplified. The saxophone cuts through everything. It is a loud band.

If you want to hear Shabaka Hutchings in a more accessible setting, see The Comet Is Coming. That band adds keyboards and electronic effects. The songs are shorter. The crowd is younger. It’s still intense, but it’s more danceable and less confrontational.

Final verdict: is a Sons of Kemet live show worth your time and money?

Tickets for the Gorilla show were £28.50 including fees. For 90 minutes of live music from four of the most technically gifted musicians in British jazz, that’s a fair price. You’ll pay more for a bad seat at a stadium show by a legacy act who mimes half the set.

This is not a casual listen. This is music that demands something from you. If you give it your attention, you get back a physical experience that recordings cannot replicate. The polyrhythms hit different when you feel them through the floor. The tuba sounds different when it shakes your ribcage.

If you’re in the UK and they tour again in 2026, buy the ticket. Stand near the front. Leave your phone in your pocket. Let the drums do the work.