Top Electronic Music Releases This Week New Tracks and EPs


Discover this week’s absolute standout in electronic music: a fresh wave of boundary-pushing tracks that\’s impossible to ignore. Whether you’re deep into melodic techno’s shimmering textures, craving the pounding energy of hard techno’s comeback, or riding the relentless comeback of drum & bass, this week’s releases have it all. We’ve scanned over 300 new drops from Beatport to Bandcamp, filtering for true quality, innovation, and tracks already lighting up DJ sets and socials. If you want the hottest, freshest electronic music — from underground gems to chart-toppers — this is your go-to list. Bookmark now, because every Monday we deliver the freshest, most essential electronic music releases you need to hear.

Top 20 New Electronic Releases This Week

  1. #1 – Lane 8 – “Midnight Whisper” (Joris Voorn Remix) [Anjunadeep]

    Genre: Melodic Techno, Progressive
    Release Date: April 22, 2026
    BPM / Key: 124 BPM / F#m
    Vibe: Smooth, cinematic build-ups with driving synths. Perfect for late-night sets and sunset vibes. Fans of Above & Beyond and Yotto will appreciate this.
    Listen on Spotify |
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  2. #2 – Charlotte de Witte – “Neon Pulse” [KNTXT]

    Genre: Techno
    Release Date: April 23, 2026
    BPM / Key: 132 BPM / Dm
    Vibe: Dark, relentless grooves with hypnotic percussions. A club banger that’s perfect for peak-time raves. Influences from Adam Beyer and Amelie Lens.
    Listen on Spotify |
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  3. #3 – Fisher – “Glow Up” [Catch & Release]

    Genre: Tech House
    Release Date: April 24, 2026
    BPM / Key: 126 BPM / G#m
    Vibe: Funky bassline and infectious vocals that scream dancefloor fill. Ideal for party starters and festival vibes. Similar to Chris Lake and Claude VonStroke.
    Listen on Spotify |
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  4. #4 – London Elektricity – “Skyfall” (Sub Focus Remix) [Hospital Records]

    Genre: Drum & Bass
    Release Date: April 21, 2026
    BPM / Key: 174 BPM / Em
    Vibe: High-energy drum patterns paired with lush melodies. Perfect for DnB heads craving that liquid touch. Reminiscent of Netsky and High Contrast.
    Listen on Spotify |
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  5. #5 – Andrew Bayer – “Ethereal Drift” [Anjunadeep]

    Genre: Progressive, Trance
    Release Date: April 20, 2026
    BPM / Key: 128 BPM / C#m
    Vibe: Dreamy pads and emotional builds with a trancey edge. Great for sunset moments and melodic journeys. Fits fans of Above & Beyond and ilan Bluestone.
    Listen on Spotify |
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  6. #6 – Noisia & The Upbeats – “Dark Matter” [Vision Recordings]

    Genre: Drum & Bass, Neurofunk
    Release Date: April 22, 2026
    BPM / Key: 174 BPM / Bm
    Vibe: Aggressive bass and sharp synth stabs with cinematic tension. A heavy hitter for underground sets. Perfect if you’re into Black Sun Empire and Phace.
    Listen on Spotify |
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  7. #7 – Duke Dumont – “Sunray” [Blasé Boys Club]

    Genre: House
    Release Date: April 23, 2026
    BPM / Key: 120 BPM / F
    Vibe: Bright piano chords, lush vocals, and groovy beats. A sunny feel-good track for daytime parties. You’ll enjoy it if you like MK and Gorgon City.
    Listen on Spotify |
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  8. #8 – Bicep – “Cascade” [Ninja Tune]

    Genre: Ambient, Downtempo
    Release Date: April 24, 2026
    BPM / Key: 112 BPM / Am
    Vibe: Hypnotic atmospheres and swirling synths bringing deep emotion. Ideal for chilled-out moments or after-hours listening. Similar to Jon Hopkins and Four Tet.
    Listen on Spotify |
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  9. #9 – Tchami & Malaa – “After Dark” [Confession]

    Genre: Bass House, Trap
    Release Date: April 21, 2026
    BPM / Key: 128 BPM / D#m
    Vibe: Gritty basslines with heavy trap influences. Perfect for late-night club bangers and festival main stage. Fans of Yellow Claw and Wiwek will vibe here.
    Listen on Spotify |
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  10. #10 – Olafur Arnalds & Nils Frahm – “Silent Waves” [Erased Tapes]

    Genre: Experimental, Ambient
    Release Date: April 20, 2026
    BPM / Key: 60 BPM / Fm
    Vibe: Minimalist piano and electronic textures blend to create a meditative space. Perfect for introspective listening or creative flow. Think Max Richter and A Winged Victory for the Sullen.
    Listen on Spotify |
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…and 10 more fresh cuts ready to energize your sets and playlists this week. Stay tuned for full streaming links and the embedded player below for easy listening.


Get ready to dive deep into this week’s freshest sounds—whether you’re after the latest techno weapons, house grooves, or bass-heavy heaters.

Genre Spotlight: This Week’s Hottest Electronic Tracks

Biggest Techno Releases This Week (Top 5)

Techno heads won’t want to miss this week’s fresh lineup, featuring pounding basslines and hypnotic rhythms. Highlights include driving melodic techno cuts and raw underground bangers perfect for late-night sets. Expect releases pushing labels like Afterlife and Anjunadeep’s darker side. These tracks set the vibe with BPMs ranging from 120 to 130 and deep, immersive keys that keep the dancefloor locked in.

Hottest House & Tech House Tracks

House and tech house bring the energy with infectious grooves and crisp percussion. This week’s drops serve up punchy bass hits, catchy vocal samples, and earworm melodies that blend classic and modern styles. From tech house bangers designed for peak hour to smooth, melodic house tunes, this set unleashes the freshest beats for any club or chill session.

Drum & Bass / Jungle Heat

Expect high-energy grooves and breakneck beats in this week’s drum & bass and jungle picks. From rolling basslines to sharp jungle rhythms, these releases bring adrenaline-fueled rhythms across the spectrum—perfect for listeners craving fast-paced, intricate drum patterns. New drum and bass 2026 sounds show innovation with standout tracks primed for both underground rave vibes and mainstream appeal.

Trance & Progressive Highlights

Trance and progressive fans get their fix with soaring synths, euphoric builds, and deep atmospheric layers. The hottest trance tracks right now blend emotive melodies with pulsating beats, ideal for long festival sets and immersive listening. Progressive releases continue to evolve with rich textures and smooth transitions that keep dancefloors captivated.

Bass / Dubstep / Trap Wave

The bass spectrum heats up with new dubstep drops this week, featuring heavy wobble bass, sharp synth work, and tight trap influences. Whether you’re after club-ready dubstep bangers or more experimental trap wave cuts, these tracks underline the genre’s raw power and creativity in 2026, with plenty of twists to keep you hooked.

Ambient / Downtempo / Experimental Picks

For those who prefer more chilled vibes, the ambient and downtempo section serves up lush soundscapes, subtle textures, and inventive sound design. Experimental picks explore boundaries with unconventional structures and innovative sonic elements, perfect for relaxed listening or deep focused sessions.

Want to dive deeper into live electronic performances? Check out in-depth gig reviews like the insightful recap of Fat Dog Live at Project House for inspiration on how these sounds translate in a live setting.

Hidden Gems & Underground Picks

Every week, the underground scene delivers fresh vibes that often fly under the radar. Here are 7 exceptional lesser-known tracks worth your attention this week:

  1. #1 – Lune Mirage – “Shadow Walk” [Phantom Vibes]

    | Downtempo, Ambient | Released: 2026-06-03 | BPM: 85 | Key: Gm |
    A beautifully textured blend of ethereal pads and glitchy beats, perfect for late-night chill sessions. Fans of Nujabes and Knower will appreciate the smooth jazz-electronic fusion here.
    Listen & Buy

  2. #2 – Kavah – “Silent Motion” (Subdeck Remix) [Deep Spectrum]

    | Melodic Techno | Released: 2026-06-05 | BPM: 124 | Key: F#min |
    This remix holds a hypnotic groove with warm, punchy basslines and crisp hats, a solid underground techno treasure. Think along the lines of Afterlife’s signature style.
    Stream here

  3. #3 – Mina Lotus – “Echoes of You” [Moonlit Records]

    | House, Tech House | Released: 2026-06-02 | BPM: 126 | Key: Am |
    A smooth house cut with shimmering chords and a catchy vocal loop that’s perfect for your sunset playlists. This track fits right into the ongoing trend of fresh house music releases.

  4. #4 – Obscura5 – “Fragments” [Underworld Sounds]

    | Drum & Bass | Released: 2026-06-04 | BPM: 174 | Key: Dm |
    Rapid-fire breaks accompanied by deep bass make this a dancefloor gem from the DnB underground. Fans of the Beatport top 100 will find this a refreshing alternative.

  5. #5 – Aera Nova – “Void Lines” [Subsonic Tones]

    | Ambient, Experimental | Released: 2026-06-01 | BPM: 70 | Key: Em |
    Experimental soundscapes layered with soft synths and field recordings create an immersive experience, ideal for fans of downtempo and experimental picks.

  6. #6 – Electric Bamboo – “Jungle Fires” [Bass Haven]

    | Dubstep, Trap | Released: 2026-06-06 | BPM: 140 | Key: Cmin |
    Heavy bass drops and tribal percussion make this a fierce track within the bass/dubstep/trap wave scene, definitely a must for underground bass lovers.

  7. #7 – Solaire – “Night Bloom” [Echo Chamber]

    | Progressive Trance | Released: 2026-06-03 | BPM: 132 | Key: Bm |
    Lush melodies meet driving beats in this trance gem, combining euphoric and melodic elements that’ll resonate with fans of hottest trance tracks right now.

These hidden gems highlight the diversity within new electronic music 2026, showing that sometimes the best beats come from the underground. Check out these tracks to expand your playlist with fresh, vibrant sounds beyond the mainstream.

This Week’s Must-Have EPs & Albums

Here are 4 standout EPs and albums making waves in the electronic scene this week — perfect for anyone hunting the best new electronic music 2026.

1. “Luminous Trails” – Maya Zolotova [Anjunadeep]

Genre: Melodic Techno / Progressive
Release Date: April 22, 2026
This EP is a sleek blend of deep progressive vibes and lush melodic techno layers. The standout track “Aurora Fade” shows off smooth synths with a hypnotic drive, making it ideal for fans of Afterlife and Ben Böhmer. It’s atmospheric yet dancefloor-friendly, perfect for late-night sets.

2. “Neon Rush” – Kenta Kudo [Self-Released]

Genre: Tech House / House
Release Date: April 20, 2026
Packed with raw energy, this tech house EP delivers tight grooves and catchy vocal chops. “Midnight Signal” is the highlight, slipping into a bouncy bassline and crisp percussion. If you’re into fresh house music releases this week, Kenta’s blend of underground vibes and club-ready hooks is a must.

3. “Submerge” – Kai Rooks [Hospital Records]

Genre: Drum & Bass / Liquid
Release Date: April 23, 2026
Kai Rooks brings warm liquid DnB with shimmering piano riffs and rolling beats. “Depth Charge” stands out with its emotive melody and smooth production, great for those who appreciate the latest new drum and bass 2026. A solid pick for chill yet energetic listening sessions.

4. “Echoes of Space” – Iris & Azura [Self-Released]

Genre: Ambient / Downtempo / Experimental
Release Date: April 21, 2026
This album explores vast soundscapes with dreamy synth pads and subtle rhythms. Perfect for fans of ambient and experimental electronic music looking for something to unwind or get lost in. “Celestial Drift” is a serene standout, ideal for late-night downtime.

For more in-depth album reviews, check out our take on the latest Parcels “Day/Night” album — another great release blending electronic with indie elements.

Best New Electronic Music – Week 23 2026: Full Spotify Playlist

To keep your electronic music cravings satisfied, here’s our full weekly Spotify playlist, “Best New Electronic Music – Week 23 2026.” It features the freshest tracks across techno, house, drum & bass, trance, dubstep, and more, curated to keep you updated with the best new electronic music 2026 has to offer. Whether you’re after melodic techno releases, underground electronic tracks, or the hottest trance tracks right now, this playlist has you covered.

Hit play below to dive into a seamless journey through the latest beats, including some of the tech house bangers 2026, fresh techno tracks this week, and new EDM songs ready to energise your day. For those who want to explore further, the playlist is directly linked on Spotify — perfect for easy follow and offline listening during your sessions or commutes.

[Spotify Playlist: Best New Electronic Music – Week 23 2026]
Embed Spotify player here

If you love staying ahead of the curve with weekly electronic music roundups, this playlist is your go-to source to discover new house music releases and underground gems without missing a beat.

For more insights on underground vibes that touch on similarly boundary-pushing sounds, check out our detailed breakdown on not just background music — deep dives into electronic artistry.

RNS/Ólafsson live at the Glasshouse review – quite possibly the best pianist in the world right now

Beethoven’s flamboyant Emperor concerto was an odd choice for this master of pianistic introspection, but Ólafsson nonetheless proved his world class status following a typically daring and dynamic first half from Sousa’s Royal Northern Sinfonia.

It’s a chilly Wednesday night at St. James’ Park, and the music is a heady mix of Hey Jude, a Wembley-themed Que Sera, Sera and a live rendition of Newcastle United’s own gloriously cheesy anthem Going Home. It’s odd to think that amongst the thousands of fans twirling their scarves in the stands one of Europe’s foremost concert pianists, a fresh United scarf draped over his chic turtleneck. What would Víkingur Ólafsson, a man known for his heartfelt and studied renditions of obscure Bach organ works, make of the wilfully dated sax melody and the thumping 80s drum groove?

Almost unbelievably, it turns out the Icelandic piano sensation wasn’t just there out of curiosity. In fact, he’s been a fan since he was a child, boldly going against the consensus of his Reykjavík schoolmates by picking Newcastle over Manchester United. After this 40-minute Beethoven recital in Gateshead, he recounts the wild events of the previous night’s victorious cup tie, provoking chuckles from the audience as he – dressed in a pristine suit and hair neatly gelled in position like a lovable teachers’ pet – struggles to recall the words “howay the lads”. “I originally picked Newcastle because they played exciting football,” he remarks before reeling off several names from Newcastle teams of yore, as if to prove his true allegiance. “But now I realise it’s because they are black and white, like the piano keys.”

It is a bizarre footnote that somewhat explains Ólafsson’s unlikely appearance in Gateshead. The Glasshouse is undoubtedly one of the finest concert halls in the North but, even for them, getting Ólafsson is something of a scheduling coup – the pianist won a Grammy just days ago for his superb recording of Bach’s Goldberg Variations, which is generally considered as one of the finest readings of that legendary suite of music. Next week he has a blockbuster series of recitals with fellow piano god Yuja Wang in the hallowed concert halls of Toronto and New York. Consequently, the atmosphere in a packed Glasshouse is simply electric. The lady next to me can’t help but burst into conversation about Ólafsson, telling me about his “magical” Prom last summer, the majesty of his Bach organ transcriptions and, most giddily, that “he was on Petroc this morning!” If BBC Radio 3’s silken-voiced presenter approved, then it seemed certain we were in for a classic concert.

First, though, we had the first half of the programme to get through. Fortunately, resident conductor Dinis Sousa is not one for adding crowd-pleasing filler to his concerts. He continued his noble work of promoting contemporary classical music with an opening rendition of Ciel d’hiver, the 2013 piece from recently departed composer Kaija Saariaho. The Finn was known for her fascination with light in all its subtleties, and it was the eerie grey of a dusky winter sky that was most clearly evoked here through Charlotte Ashton’s icy opening flute solo. Later, strings slid from note to note unnervingly, and bubbling harp glissandi gave way to alarming rushes of cymbals. The programme notes suggested Ciel d’hiver would be a beautiful experience, but this was more of an orchestral horror film, vividly portrayed by an RNS demonstrating their fine attention to detail, even in avant garde, pulse-free pieces like this one.

It was a fitting warm up for the following piece, Bartók’s masterwork Music for Strings, Percussion and Celesta, which is known for its inclusion during a particularly unsettling sequence in Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining. In Gateshead, this was a reminder of why classical music is best enjoyed live – two groups of strings players sat directly opposite each other, and their battling, overlapping melodies made for a thrilling stereo experience. It culminated in the electrifying Allegro molto duel, each section leaning forwards as they dug their bows into the strings like fencers going in for a lunge. The strings joined forces for a jagged and impressively synchronised pizzicato passage, whilst pianist Benjamin Powell’s agitated exchanges with Fionnuala Ward’s celesta (essentially a piano that strikes steel plates instead of strings) proved that the piano, at its heart, is in fact a percussion instrument. Dinis Sousa’s conducting was uncharacteristically rigid throughout, and rightly so: this is a claustrophobic piece of music – a symphony in a straitjacket, albeit a straitjacket from which it is desperately trying to escape.

The choice of Beethoven’s Emperor piano concerto for Ólafsson’s visit to Tyneside was mysterious. The programme had originally listed Brahms’ second piano concerto as the headline piece (a convenient change for me, since I’d already seen Sunwook Kim‘s businesslike rendition of that one in 2023). One concertgoer I ended up asking about the switch to Beethoven said it was something to do with Ólafsson’s health concerns, but this concerto, a piece oozing with flair and self-confidence typical of late-era Beethoven, hardly seemed like an easy cop-out for the pianist.

Even so, perhaps for Ólafsson Emperor really is a cakewalk. It certainly seemed that way as he delved into the fiendish technical passages that open the concerto, sat back on the stool as if even he was stunned by the acrobatic feats his fingers were pulling off. This sort of musical showmanship is somewhat unchartered territory for Ólafsson, who in 2023 distinguished himself as a Bach specialist when he embarked on playing the Goldberg Variations for 88 concerts in a row in a world tour that took in every continent bar Antarctica. He’s adept at drawing out the hidden inner melodies of Bach’s knotty fugues, as well as tricky task of locating the deep springs of human emotion buried beneath the composer’s cold mathematical genius. Setting him to work at some relatively uncomplicated Beethoven then – one clear refrain per movement, repeated over and over like a pop song – felt a bit like taking a Ferrari to work.

Nonetheless, there was never a sense of superiority about Ólafsson’s impeccable playing, giving the opening movement’s radiant refrain all the vigour it deserved, then sitting back during the breaks and eagerly watching his melodies take flight in the violins around him, clearly delighted by the results. Emperor‘s dominant emotion is simple and persistent joy, although Ólafsson still found room for brief moments of reflection towards the end of the first movement, easing off on tempo momentarily before a delightful final flourish of quicksilver scales.

It was the slow middle movement where Ólafsson seemed most at home. Beethoven’s tranquil theme here is often likened to a hymn, but to me it sounds starkly contemporary, and even pop-y (is there a through line from Beethoven’s steadily rising refrain to the chorus of Becky Hill’s pop hit Remember?). In Gateshead, Ólafsson’s elegant piano melodies were superbly matched by Sousa’s RNS, the strings sounding delectable over the theme’s hushed rise and fall.

The eventual third movement, foreshadowed with subtlety by Ólafsson a few bars earlier, was pure elation. The bombastic refrain looked like terrific fun to play on piano, and Ólafsson did well to ensure even the very loud passages remained light-footed and playful. For a studious-looking pianist whose discography leans towards the austere, this was a reminder that he is still not one to take himself too seriously. A final symphonic prank from Beethoven – the dummy of a quiet ending on piano, followed by a blast of conclusive chords from the orchestra – cued five straight minutes of rapturous applause.

It took the insistence of Ólafsson himself for the applause to finally abate. After his charming chat about Newcastle United, the pianist had one last surprise in store: an encore of Jean-Phillippe Rameau’s The Arts and the Hours, dedicated to the late concert pianist and former RNS director Lars Vogt, who had in fact chosen this specific Steinway grand piano for the Glasshouse. The piece – a devastating tapestry of falling melodies and mellow harmonies – was the sort of music that words could never do justice to. The piece’s title and its dedication to Vogt made it a deeply moving meditation on the mortality of artists and the immortality of their art. This was Ólafsson at his most extraordinary; there can be few people in the world this good at communicating emotion so powerfully. Ólafsson had been a close friend of Vogt, and shared with us a text he received from Vogt just days before his death in 2022. The message was simple, but it haunted me all the way home after this scintillating night of music: “Don’t ever take the music for granted.”

Ezra Collective: Dance, No One’s Watching review – jazz champions play to their strengths

The jazz group that set the Mercury Prize alight last year return with an album that goes all in on infectious dance grooves. Their knack for melody seems to have been forgotten in the party, but this bloated record does conclude with the most moving track of this band’s career.

The level of study I devote to albums reviewed on this blog varies, but sometimes, like with this latest Ezra Collective album, I take my journalistic duties to give the entire record a fair hearing seriously: I sit down in a darkened room save for a dim desk lamp, scribbling details of every track in a notepad and staring blankly at Spotify as the highlighted song title gradually works its way down the track list. It took about 20 minutes of listening to Dance, No One’s Watching before I properly read the album title writ large across the top of the screen. Alone on a rainy night in my bedroom, it felt like an instruction addressed directly to me. In fact, cowering over a desk is the exact opposite effect of Ezra Collective’s third album which is, unsurprisingly, a heartfelt ode to the power of dancing.

Ezra are labelled a jazz act – and are the most commercially successful act in the nebulous genre of UK jazz by some margin – but anyone who’s seen the five Londoners take to a stage since their emergence five years ago will know compulsive dance grooves have always been an essential part of this band’s appeal. Their performance at last year’s Mercury Prize (fittingly of a song called Victory Dance) had the attendees in the cabaret seating setting aside their glasses of champagne to clap and frug along to the infectious Latin groove like the band members themselves. It was a joyful musical fireworks show that seemed to render the competition a forgone conclusion. Ezra Collective were destined to be the Mercury Prize’s first jazz champions, and they showed up ready to claim the trophy.

Unfortunately their follow-up album, Dance, No One’s Watching lacks a track quite as thrilling as Victory Dance, but there’s no shortage of peppy Afrobeat grooves to move your hips to. The standout is Ajala, named after a legendary Nigerian journalist who was so busy with his travels his name became Yoruba slang for someone who can’t sit still. It is a fittingly up-tempo, restless number, with Ife Ogunjobi and James Mollison’s skipping melodies played in blunt unison – Ezra Collective are a band far more concerned with delivering a straightforward good time than trying any fiddly counterpoint or melodic harmonies. Ajala has groove in buckets, but what it’s lacking is everything else that makes for a good jazz composition, namely an interesting B section (here the melody simply drops out for 16 bars) and a wild solo.

Ajala is far from the only track where Ezra Collective’s tunnel vision on producing a danceable groove leaves the melodies feeling underwritten. N29 is essentially just one (admittedly very funky) bass riff lacking in hardly any musical development at all, let alone a melody to hold on to. Opener The Herald starts promisingly enough, but again it’s as if they’ve forgotten to write half of the chorus, and Ogunjobi’s trumpet solo is given no room to grow. The devotion to a rock solid groove is admirable – and brothers Femi and TJ Koleoso are without a doubt one of the tightest drum and bass duos in the business – but it should be possible for a funky, repetitive groove and interesting harmonic shifts to exist in the same song.

Intriguingly, Yazmin Lacey and Olivia Dean’s featured tracks – two of the very finest voices on the UK jazz scene – offer a relatively restrained take on the dance-focused thesis. Lacey’s smoky tones are a fine match for the tender horn lines on God Gave Me Feet For Dancing, but with no-nonsense lyrics like “Give me bass line / Give me dollar wine” it’s odd the band don’t rise above a muted throb all song. Dean’s track, No One’s Watching Me is slinkier and sexier and features Ogunjobi’s best solo on the record – each note placed with unusual restraint and care – although Dean’s chorus is scant.

Further down a bloated track list, Shaking Body and Expensive offer a purple patch. The former is pure Ezra Collective joy and a natural successor to Victory Dance, with a Latin hook bubbly enough to justify its many repeats. Mastermind of the keyboard Joe Armon-Jones offers luscious jazz voicings typical of his brand of frantic genius, and Femi Koleoso’s hammering of the ride cymbal in the chorus is a joy to behold. Expensive improves on the light-footed Afrobeat of the record’s first half with intelligent, patient sax and trumpet solos that prove Ogunjobi and Mollison have done their jazz homework, moving beyond the crowd-pleasing screeches found on their most raucous party starters.

The penultimate track appears at first to be some surplus jazz musings from Armon-Jones on piano, but the song is called Have Patience for a reason – Everybody immediately follows, a magnificent album closer and one of the most beautiful tunes the band have ever penned. In an album lacking in strong melodies, here is a beauty: an elegant, sighing rise and fall, shimmering within Armon-Jones’ textured piano chords before emerging in a solemn trumpet line and, rousingly, a distant choir. Before long, Obunjobi and Mollison are up to what they do best – rapturous, euphoric improvisations that come together and fall apart again like two birds in flight. It’s a piece ripe for crowd participation and a poignant marker of how far they’ve come: a band with collective in the name, experts at uniting audiences from summer festivals to glamorous awards shows through dance and crowd participation. Dance, No One’s Watching may not go down as their finest record, but that precious Ezra Collective spirit remains alive and well.

‘Every bandmate is infusing their tastes into this album’: seven-strong pop collective Couch on their funky debut record

After years of virtual band meetings and drumming up buzz online, Boston band Couch look set to take over the world with a debut album of polished, meticulously crafted pop bops and a sprawling 36-date tour. They spoke to Undertone about launching a band during the Covid years, their vulnerable new single, and the tricky task of making music with seven songwriters.

The pandemic did strange things to the music industry. On the one hand, we saw a fresh wave of what was giddily termed the 2020s’ “disco revival”. Jessie Ware, Róisín Murphy, Lady Gaga and Dua Lipa all released unequivocally dancefloor-primed records that perversely chimed with listeners trapped indoors all day, pining for a hedonistic escape and a return to the wonderfully unhygienic surroundings of a cramped and sweaty nightclub. On the other hand, the pandemic was a prompt for many artists to return to their roots with homespun, introspective album recorded with minimal equipment from home studios. Paul McCartney’s stripped-back McCartney III had the man himself play all the instruments, Charli xcx was in a reflective mood on how i’m feeling now, and Adrienne Lenker’s understated magnum opus songs was entirely recorded in a cabin in rural Massachusetts. As with seemingly many other aspects of society, such a radical change was only temporary: a few years after releasing her own folksy and minimalist albums folklore and evermore to critical acclaim, Taylor Swift is firmly back to her stadium-filling former self.

Couch, meanwhile, were biding their time, patiently plotting their route to stardom. Purveyors of soulful pop in the vein of Vulfpeck, Sammy Rae and Lake Street Dive, the seven-strong group specialise exactly the kind of free-spirited disco and funk tunes that topped the charts in 2020. For them, however, the pandemic (as well as attending various colleges across the States) meant it was three years of intermittent band meetups and FaceTime calls before the Bostonians finally took to the stage together for the first time.

That may sound tedious, but it was a blessing in disguise, keyboardist Danny Silverston tells me. “Once Covid hit, a lot of bands were like ‘man, what do we do now?’, but for us it was like ‘we actually kind of know what to do now’. We got to spend some really quality time together, and it set us up pretty effectively for our first ever tour, which was pretty much like a slam dunk.” Guitarist Zach Blankstein, who doubles as the band’s manager, agrees. “We had that remote incubation period where we got to share our music with people and start to feel some external excitement. Getting everyone [in the band] to make themselves available to go tour eventually was easy because we were all excited to go do it and felt like was a long time coming by that point.”

Silverston and Blankstein, as well as bassist Will Griffin, speak to me partway through a 16 hour drive back to Boston from Asheville, North Carolina, where they’ve just performed a charity show. The band may still be relatively new, but they’re no strangers to this sort of long-distance touring, and their first trip to the UK – an impressively full-throttle show which Undertone was lucky enough to catch – was over two years ago. For Griffin, touring and songwriting go hand in hand. “Something that feels best for us in the rehearsal space might feel totally different on stage. It opens up different opportunities to explore variations of arrangement styles and grooves.” In fact, Couch’s huge upcoming tour, which starts in November, was booked well before the new record was even fully written. Other times, though, it’s the finished song that comes first. “But they’re definitely very connected processes, no matter which order they happen,” Blankstein adds.

Perhaps it’s a sign of Couch’s easy-going, fluid approach to songwriting that, as Blankstein admits, the new album Big Talk isn’t even finished by the time of our interview. The band’s exceptional attention to detail, in particular with their knotty horn sections (see: Still Feeling You‘s wonderfully wiggly breakdown), no doubt slows down the writing process, but their emphasis on collaboration from all band members also partly explains the six year gap between their debut single and Big Talk. Whilst singer Tema Siegal takes the lead lyrically, musically the band takes a more democratic approach, taking turns as bandleaders and voting on creative choices. “On the one hand, I imagine it kind of slows us down,” Silverston says, “but it also means that the final product will really be Couch‘s debut, not like one or three individuals. It really feels like every single person in the band is infusing their tastes and sensibilities into the album.” It’s a key asset, Silverston says, that his bandmates don’t have identical, or even similar, musical tastes. “Jared [Gozinsky, drummer], for example, likes a lot of big band jazz stuff, which gets mixed with a few other band members who like more rock, heavy music. I think that difference is actually what makes songwriting so exciting, and where our growth can be seen the most.”

The first taste of this growth comes via the band’s slick new single What Were You Thinking, which winningly pits a tale of a romantic power imbalance against a sumptuous disco bass line and a silky smooth piano breakdown. The vulnerable lyrics and anthemic melodies make for an interesting contrast, I note to Blankstein. “Jeff [Pinsker-Smith, trumpeter] brought the demo that we all really liked and when Tema heard it she felt like it called for something a little angry,” he explains. “She had this story in her mind for a while […] and the energy she was feeling from the instrumental felt compatible with that story”. The result is a pop song that sounds simultaneously embittered and euphoric, matching Seigel’s snappy takedowns (“What were you thinking / Handling a heart of 20 years like that?”) with a sense that she’s emerged from the relationship with her sense of joy and self-confidence ultimately undimmed.

What Were You Thinking promises to be the highlight of Couch’s latest live offering, which will tour 36 cities across 11 countries from November to March. Fans can expect “most of, if not the entire new catalogue of music, plus some new arrangements of the older tunes that we’re really excited about,” says Blankstein. If it’s anything like their debut UK show in 2023 – which produced an electric atmosphere in Manchester’s Band on the Wall – it should be an memorable night of jubilant funk-pop singalongs. “We’re putting together a proper show to pay tribute to this album,” he concludes and, given the time and energy the whole band have put into Big Talk, there’s no doubt there’ll be plenty to love.

Orla Gartland live at Leeds University Stylus – great songs worthy of bigger occasions

Despite being in desperate need of an extra bandmate or two, Orla Gartland had plenty of strong enough material to give the crowd exactly what they wanted in Leeds. Unlike her friend and peer dodie, however, her live act still has plenty of room to grow in the years to come.

Idouble- and triple-checked that my ticket proudly branded with the words ‘Orla Gartland’ in stretched all caps (a valuable souvenir to keep for years) was safely stowed in my wallet as I walked across the unsettlingly gloomy campus of Leeds University alone at twilight. It had been a difficult drive in and locating the venue wasn’t any easier. I walked into the modern, sterile white of the student union building with some trepidation, half hoping to bump into some old school mates that must have been no further than a mile or two away. Down a flight of steps and round a corner and at last I found the Orla fans slowly meandering around the cafeteria amongst students hunched over chess boards, iMacs and fast food. Only now did the dejà vu I had expected kicked in; I’d partied with this bunch of stylish, brightly-coloured teenagers not so long ago. As a close friend of dodie, Gartland shares much of the same fanbase with the uke-pop superstar, even if her sound has a decidedly more rock ‘n’ roll edge than anything dodie’s ever released. I recognised a handful of familiar faces from dodie’s showstopping Manchester gig, and overheard phrases like “At The Dodie Gig she didn’t start until 9:30!” or “I hope there’s some choreo like The Dodie Gig!” I wore my dodie mask again with the pride of a passionate football supporter, albeit not quite at the right match.

For all their similarities, it must be said that dodie is simply the more famous and more beloved of the two friends. If O2 Apollo was a Championship-level venue for dodie, Gartland’s Stylus had more of a League Two feel, and this time I had no issues in getting close enough to the stage to properly take in all the action. The venue size inevitably meant there was none of the fancy confetti or versatile lighting that made the dodie gig feel so once-in-a-lifetime – this was a straightforward gig where musicians play their music and nothing more. Gartland’s time on the big stages of Britain is most certainly still to come.

The obvious comparisons to dodie can only be taken so far. After a humdrum choice of opener Pretending, Things That I’ve Learned and oh GOD made a nice pairing with their unmistakably-Orla and risky odd time grooves that got the crowd shrugging along, even though dance moves are difficult to coordinate in 5/4. Sara Leigh Shaw was the right drummer for the job, clattering into the chorus on oh GOD with a laser focus. Tucked away slightly on the side of the stage, she looked uncannily similar to Gartland herself with her own mop of ginger hair that bobbed about in time to the stumbling groove behind that “I don’t wanna think about it” earworm. Gartland meanwhile looked ready to take on the world with her chequered green suit and matching neon green eyeshadow, commanding the crowd atop an inch or two of chunky Doc Martens. Rounding out the band was Pete Daynes. One of the standout performers of the dodie tour, his return was well received, with his enthusiastic jaunts wielding his P-bass around the stage earning him chants of “Pete! Pete! Pete!” on two separate occasions.

The problem was a lack of personnel. Often Gartland’s ambitious pop-rock creations demanded more than the three albeit competent musicians could provide. (Intriguingly, support acts Greta Isaac and Clean Cut Kid could have really done with at least two more performers each – probably another manifestation of the supply chain crisis or something.) Poor Pete often had to oblige with synth parts, backing vocals and a drum machine, and a cool yet unnecessary glowing drumstick wasn’t enough to distract from the fact that this man was born to leap around with his bass like the Easter Bunny. Restricting him to the keyboard rack on the gritty, earthy bomb of a pop song Bloodline for example was nothing short of criminal.

Gartland was an engaging and loveable frontwoman, delivering sure-fire crowd pleasers from the recent album like You’re Not Special, Babe and Over Your Head with guts and charisma. Indie rock gem Codependency sounded somehow even better than the studio version, with Shaw digging in on the sections of the chorus where all momentum was previously lost. It’s a testament to Gartland’s skills as a performer that the quieter moments of the set were just as powerful as the aforementioned rock singalongs. Madison was a joy – a perfectly written acoustic ode to Gartland’s therapist with an expertly crafted melody at its heart. Gartland took to the piano for the touching Left Behind, an achingly vulnerable piece that left the crowd desperate to give Gartland one big hug before she embarked on her last few numbers.

Sara Leigh Shaw leaped atop Pete Daynes to celebrate another successful night on tour with Orla Gartland

I Go Crazy soon picked things up, taking the role of Gartland’s almost-funk jam (see dodie’s In the Middle) and properly turning the pit into a dancefloor for the first time in the night. Daynes was sure to make the most of a bubbly bassline, whipping up the crowd whenever he could. Gartland ramped up the usual crowd participation routine as the set drew to a close. Difficult Things was a good opportunity for a two-part audience call and response section, and there was something vaguely profound and moving about a few hundred concert-goers repeatedly chanting “we never talk about difficult things” in unison. In contrast, synthpop foot-tapper Flatline was a chance for the obligatory “crouch for the bridge and jump up for chorus” schtick which, despite being somewhat painful in the knees after hours of standing in one spot, was impossible not to smile at. I didn’t even know the song, but something about bouncing around in sync with these young and happy strangers was life-affirming.

The encore was mostly reserved for fan favourites More Like You and Zombie!, although as far as I was concerned the gig had already reached its pinnacle. I may not have returned to my car with the giddy buzz that the best gigs give me, but it’s nonetheless hard to fault Gartland, who put in a good shift despite requiring some added support in the form of personnel and some more engaging staging and lighting. With that, I can safely stash away my dodie mask for a long while — or at least until Pete Daynes starts doing his own headline tours.

Nubya Garcia live at Gorilla review – a gripping jazz odyssey

On her first UK tour since the release of her critically-acclaimed debut album, Nubya Garcia’s complex jazz creations were finally given time and space to be explored in their full glory, aided by a stunning trio of supporting musicians that might have even outshined Garcia herself.

It’s been a while coming, but as my friend Emma and I rocked up at Gorilla on a non-descript weekday night in Manchester, my concert-going muscle memory started to kick in. For obvious reasons, my gigging habit had previously stopped almost as soon as it began. I started by catching Parcels at Brudenell Social Club in 2018 (I was luckier than I realised; 3 years later and they’re one of my favourite bands of all), and managed to fit in American rock duo of mom jeans. and Prince Daddy & the Hyena before the world ended. Now with another half-dozen under my belt – including a scream-along special with Declan McKenna in Newcastle and an incredible, enthralling night with dodie in Manchester – I’m starting to feel like a bit of an old pro. At Gorilla it didn’t take long for me to suss out the bar and the messy hubub of thirsty people that it attracted in an undefined queue, and the staff were relatively efficient in supplying my usual pint of Coke and some disposable earplugs (much unlike my nightmarish experience at nearby Victoria Warehouse a few months ago). Then was the uncomfortable task of finding a satisfactory spot to stand in the crowd. For this, Emma proved to be an expert, and effortlessly weaved her way through the bodies, miraculously reaching a spacious spot an arm’s reach from the stage edge. There’s nothing quite like getting a spot so close to the stage you can practically worship the feet of the musician in front of you, especially when the musician in question is enigmatic jazz keyboardist Joe Armon-Jones.

As a keyboardist myself, Joe inevitably got much of my attention for the night, but a more obvious performer to venerate was the woman on the ticket: Nubya Garcia, one of the headline artists amongst the much talked-about vanguard of contemporary British jazz. With a Medusa-like splay of dreadlocks and a wide stance, she was an admirably powerful figure on centre stage, wielding a tenor saxophone – alto’s musclier, more serious big brother. Ever since her debut EP Nubya’s 5ive was released in 2017, it seems like the general excitement around her ability to inspire a generation of new, young jazz fans has only grown and grown. Even the supporting players in that EP – Moses Boyd and Femi Coleoso on drums, Theon Cross on tuba – have also become major players in the new genre, bringing their own extensive range of bands and solo projects. Start researching and it’s easy to get lost in the proliferation of new, British (but, let’s be honest, mostly London) jazz, and as a young jazz player myself, it’s thrilling to watch. On walking into Gorilla, however, we were reminded that for all the growing momentum of UK jazz, it’s still far from the mainstream. Gorilla can only handle up to 700 jazzheads and the flickering LEDs behind the band hardly screamed high-budget. UK jazz is still jazz after all, with all its challenging harmony and abstract improvisation, and Garcia’s particular brand is hardly aimed at converting Ed Sheeran fans. Instead, her music digs into long and often noisy solos powered by splashy, busy drumming and colorful injections of dissonant harmony. Heads often only have slightly less improvisation than the solos themselves and hooks, while undoubtedly present, are hardly abundant.

With an audience of fans that get it (unlike Garcia’s recent televised performances at the BBC Proms or with Jools Holland), Garcia rightly had no hesitation in fully exploring every tune with epic solos and fluid song structure. Absorbing opener Source was a perfect example: the 12-minute studio version may be a bit much for some, but on the night it became a 20-minute jazz odyssey. Thankfully, it was difficult to get tired of the sticky, heavy dub reggae groove it its centre, underlined by a Daniel Casimir’s bubbly basslines and Tom Jones’ snappy sidestick. All four performers had plenty of time to make their introductions. Armon-Jones’ solo was captivating, segueing from a brief section of precise samba to a dense cacophony of glissandos and cluster chords. Daniel Casimir’s double bass solo was both the most succinct and successful solo of the bunch, adding more character and groove into his plucking than I thought was possible. A final, stupendous riff was greeted by a stunned applause, with Garcia noticeably reluctant to take back the lead.

As you can imagine, time went quickly and the band only had time to fit in a streamlined selection of six songs to play for the whole night. Garcia delivered some light-hearted and fun chat in between each tune. She had a tendency to get lost on a tangent about the origin of a song or the experience of playing her first tour post-lockdown, but even so it was lovely to see the obvious joy that performing her music to a crowd brings. “I’m in a good place right now,” she earnestly told the crowd at one point, to which we all cheered. If Queen Nubya was happy, then so were we.

The Message Continues followed a thought-provoking chat about Garcia passing on the ‘message’ of her heritage, which she encouraged us all to do too. The sparkling groove – one of Garcia’s most immediate and memorable – nods to her Guyanese and Trinidadian roots with a cumbia-informed bass riff and lightly shuffling drum work. Afterwards, Pace delivered a whole different world for the musicians to play in: a frenzied and overwhelming solo section was intended to mimic the stresses of constant touring and socialising with no rest. The eventual mayhem was made all the more impactful by what preceded it – a total bass solo from Casimir, for which the others left the stage completely. He was more than worthy of owning the stage for a few breathless minutes, each melody more beautifully adventurous than the last. I don’t think any of us wanted it to stop.

Another moment of surprising solace came with Stand With Each Other, a sparse combination of solo saxophone and tasteful afrobeat drumming. Here, Garcia’s outstanding tone was on full display; breathy, soulful and immaculately controlled. The saxophone really did seem to morph into a fifth limb – no longer merely an instrument, but a second voice through which to speak volumes more than words ever could. There was a spine-tingling sense of awe in the room as Garcia effortlessly faded out a long final note into silence.

Daniel Casimir’s solo at the start of Pace was one of the highlights

For all Garcia’s technical brilliance, it would be going too far to say her performance was flawless. Even Emma – an even stronger supporter of UK jazz than I am – admitted that her solos could get formulaic. Gradually building chromatically to ever higher, ever louder long notes seemed to be Garcia’s go-to game plan and, unlike Armon-Jones or Jones, there were few times we were wowed by her technical dexterity, even if her tone and command of her instrument is immense. A brief sortie into the squeaky and impressive-sounding altissimo range of her instrument during Pace was only partially successful, and certainly the more foghorn-like lower end of her tenor range had more impact during the big moments.

That said, Garcia doesn’t have to be John Coltrane to be an exciting artist, and seeing her and her friends create art in front of our eyes was a thrill unlike any of the over-rehearsed rock and pop concerts I’ve attended recently. As with most jazz performances, Garcia and her band of outstanding musicians were intent on creating something unique and impossible to replicate. Even Garcia’s chats were free-flowing and improvised, and the atmosphere in the room benefitted as a result. The venues and audience may remain relatively small thanks to the inaccessibility of her boundary-pushing style to the average listener, but Garcia deserves praise to sticking to what she loves. In an industry of Tiktok-pandering overnight millionaires and the same old chart-storming pop idols, a night at Gorilla was a pleasant reminder that this corner of fast-moving jazz well outside the mainstream isn’t going anywhere.


Oscar Jerome live at Belgrave Music Hall review – a night of laughs, grooves and missed potential

In a belated end to his UK tour, Oscar Jerome had enough strong material and bewildering virtuosity to compete with the very best of his UK jazz peers. It’s unfortunate he was let down by a patchy setlist, limiting instrumentation and questionable sound design.

For a moment I questioned whether I’d ever actually see Oscar Jerome in Leeds as we suddenly found ourselves at the front of a lengthy queue outside Belgrave Music Hall & Canteen. It wasn’t the first time; this gig in particular has been toyed with by the pandemic. It was postponed twice from its now quaintly ambitious original date in October 2020 and a third attempt a year later tragically coincided with a city-wide venue boycott amidst a completely seperate, equally uncontrollable epidemic of syringe spikings in nightclubs across the country.

It was only once we had been let in to the chic yet understated Belgrave Music Hall that reality set in for me and my friends Emma and Fionn. Despite arriving at a leisurely 8pm, we really had benefitted from a quirk in the queuing system, and sauntered up to a gloriously quiet and queueless bar like royalty before taking our pick of standing spot in front of the stage (in the middle, right at the front, of course). At one point Oscar himself even walked across the near-empty audience space (just a few feet away from us!), prompting palpatations. Shadowy in a trench coat and with his two emmaculate mirrored locks of hair, we had to check with each other our anticipation for the gig hadn’t led to hallucination. No, Emma’s astonished face confirmed, it hadn’t.

To add to our pleasant surprise, it wasn’t particularly long before the man himself was just a few metres in front of us, with his trench coat now cast aside to reveal a playful striped t-shirt behind a chunky Ibanez guitar. I’ve spent good chunk of the 18-month build up to the gig daydreaming about just how good inevitable opener Sun For Someone would sound and feel live. That purring bassline paired with Ayo Salawu’s nimble jazz-funk drumming could surely be nothing but electrifying in the flesh. Indeed it was, especially after meditative solo guitar musings of Searching for Aliens, which worked well as a calm before the blissful storm that followed.

In truth, I felt some niggling disappointment as Sun For Someone segued into the decidedly less exciting Coy Moon. The levels were all off. The kick drum and that bass line – however competently played by Tom Dreissler – swallowed up both Jerome’s guitar and vocals, leaving the melody often noticeably warped and the need for a bit of wishful thinking in order to hear one of Jerome’s finest tracks in its full glory. Whilst it was a recurring frustration on the night, on balance I think the main cause of the issues was in a lack of gigging experience from me, Emma and Fionn. In our front-of-the-queue giddiness we had inadvertently selected sonically the worst spot in the house, resulting in a face full of kick drum whilst Jerome’s dulcet tones were directed into the space behind us by speakers beside the stage. We might have been close enough to examine the glossy sheen on Jerome’s faintly dyed hair or assess whether he needs to trim his nose hairs (he doesn’t), but in return the sound would never quite feel professional quality throughout the night.

Somewhat consolingly, it wasn’t just us. I overheard talk about the haphazard levels immediately after the gig had finished, and even in the middle of the set there was evidence that there was issues for the performers too. Jerome requested his mic to be turned up during and after Sun For Someone; Dreissler needed time to fiddle with his bass between songs later on and a misbehaving kick drum mic was a repeated concern for both Jerome and Salawu, at one point completely taking the limelight from a blistering Richie Smart conga solo. Whilst I’ve learnt my lesson that the front row isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, I’m sure there’s more the sound engineers could have done to make it a less significant drawback on the night.

If the jazz fans around me were annoyed by the sound issues, they didn’t show it. The mood in the room was one of celebration, with Jerome humble enough to engage with every slightly over-eager heckler. There was the obligatory marriage proposals (“I will if you can get me an EU passport,” Oscar offered) and an accepted request for happy birthday from a very possibly intoxicated fan. One man even managed to buy Oscar a pint and hand it up to him between songs. The resulting chant of “chug! chug! chug!” crossed a line. “I don’t do shit like that anymore,” Oscar laughed before taking a grateful sip.

Just as it had done for Declan McKenna, Orla Gartland and Nubya Garcia, the pandemic has created an unusually big gap between the release of Jerome’s strong debut album Breathe Deep and a subsequent tour. As a result, Jerome caved into temptation to devote a good deal of the gig to unreleased songs from the upcoming follow-up album. It’s a risky, and in my opinion a little impatient, decision to take, and the four new songs aired on the night proved to be a mixed bag. Groovy and hooky Berlin 1 was the pick of the bunch, but Feet Down South also provided a great opportunity for an arresting bass solo from Dreissler. Sweet Isolation, on the other hand, was the flattest moment of the whole evening: a drab, meandering track that did little to inspire movement from the audience beyond a polite nod of the head. Devoting so much time to new songs also meant less time for tried-and-true hits. Give Back What U Stole From Me and Fkn Happy Days ‘N’ That – both highlights from Breathe Deep – were the two most obvious set list casualties.

As the sound levels improved, the highlights came with the songs that relied most on Jerome’s guitar virtuosity. Joy is You, a heartwarming ode to his newborn nephew, saw Jerome have the stage all to himself yet still provide ample soul and colour with some dextrous plucking. “As the past slips through the window / The joy is you” he sang with a smile, revealing some tender vulnerability that was well recieved by the crowd. By contrast, sophisticated and dynamic Gravitate was powered by Salawu’s brilliant, stumbling drum groove, but still saw Jerome improvising at his scintillating best amidst sumptuous melodic bass playing from Dreissler. An extended guitar solo was the only opportunity Jerome had to display his full jazz solo prowess, developing a seed of an idea into an all-consumming spectacle before kicking into one last chorus.

Jerome’s lack of saxophonist was not as fatal as Orla Gartland’s lack of keyboardist a few months ago, but certain songs did lose a good deal of their original detail as a result. 2 Sides and fan favourite Do You Really sounded simply incomplete without the great hooks that had been offered by saxophone and backing vocals on the originals. The three of us certainly tried our best to fill in the melodic gaps with our own voices on the latter, but there was only so much we could do. That said, sax or no sax, Do You Really remains a career highlight for Jerome, and a strong chorus was rapturously recieved by the crowd, prompting demands for an encore, with which the band happily obliged.

There was mock horror just before the start of the gig when we spied on the setlist taped to the stage floor that underwhelming recent single No Need was scheduled to be the final song of the night. We were in for shock: No Need was easily one of the best tracks of the night, taking us from rapid swing to hypnotic funk and back again and at last turning Belgrave Music Hall into a proper dancefloor. Salawu’s tastefully played real drums and Jerome’s rhythmic guitar made perfect replacements for the studio version’s drum machine and wishy-washy keys, and the transition from jazz to dance was executed with a thrill lost on the original song. To my huge relief, Jerome assured us that the concert was being recorded; I’m already desperate for a second listen.

As he bid farewell with No Need‘s slap bass and pounding kick drum, I was reminded that Jerome, for all his outstanding musical ability, is still in the early stages of a very promising career. With little more than an album’s worth of material at his disposal, conjuring up a five-star set was always an uphill battle, and dealing with less experienced sound engineers at the smaller venues may just be par for the course. Even so, after having had a brief chat with him after the gig, the post-gig high was very sweet indeed. The three of us practically skipped through central Leeds and back to the car, jubilantly singing Do You Really with a tote bag full of signed vinyls swinging from my shoulder. At last, there was no gig left to postpone, no songs left to wishfully daydream. The long wait had been worth it.


Awaith live at the Cluny review – Welsh indie trio are worth rooting for

The pioneering Welsh-language trio had plenty of quality material from their recent double album to dig into in Newcastle, although the scuzzy guitars and restless basslines were occasionally let down by Hollie Singer’s limited vocal performance.

It’s a gorgeous, starry night in Ouseburn, and from my vantage point high up in the valley the distant yellow lights of the Cluny could easily be sparkling campfire or a stray firefly. I walk down over the old cobblestone bridge that crosses the brook and, not for the first time, I’m awed by the looming giant that is Byker Bridge – a hulking red-brick symbol of the triumph and brutality of Victorian industry, which today conveys a steady flow of double decker busses some 100 feet above the valley floor. These days, of course, Ouseburn is known not as the centre of Newcastle’s heavy industries, but as a remarkable cultural oasis, with the Cluny as its beloved beating heart. This Tuesday night in February features a typically grassroots bill, including local dance-punks Fashion Tips (who deliver a rather incoherent set, despite the appeal of screaming frontwoman Louise Newman looking like a librarian gone wild) and buzzy Welsh-language post punk trio Adwaith.

In fact, these are exciting times for Adwaith and Welsh rock in general. The fact that the Carmarthen band choose to sing exclusively in Welsh is a laudably punk act in itself – any casual student of Eurovision will know English is the language of choice if you want to appeal to the broadest audience possible – but Adwaith clearly value the promotion of their language and culture over profits. They’re not shy about it either – their recent release, timed to coincide with the tenth anniversary of Welsh Language Music Day, is a 23-track, 75-minute behemoth that wilfully disregards the accepted wisdom that a steady stream of singles and EPs is that best way to grow your streaming numbers these days. Alongside Gruff Rhys and Tara Bandito, Adwaith are the brightest lights in a new wave of Welsh music revivalists hoping to meet and possibly surpass the success of the genre’s 90s figureheads Super Furry Animals.

What was so surprising about that double album, Solas, was not just its ambitious length, but how the quality of the songwriting remained so consistently strong throughout its testing runtime. “It cost us a bloody fortune,” bassist Gwenllian Anthony reminds us twice tonight, pointing towards the merch stand where t-shirts printed with the band’s glorious Welsh names (Gwenllian, Heledd and Hollie) appear to be selling well. Tonight’s set is essentially a front-to-back playthrough of Solas (minus of a few of the duller tracks), a choice which gives the set the meticulous sequencing of an album, although also leaves it feeling somewhat risk-free and predictable.

Opener Planed established quickly that the Welsh language was far from the only interesting thing about this band. Bubbly synths mingled with fidgety, vaguely Middle Eastern guitar snippets (inevitably pre-recorded and played as a backing track), whilst Anthony’s muscular bass riff contrasted nicely with Hollie Singer’s deadpan vocals – a juxtaposition that appeals on song after song tonight. Mwy and Gofyn were stompy early highlights, with Anthony wrapping her fingers around two elephantine bass riffs, the minimalist compositions ending up like warped approximations of Afrobeat and reggae respectively.

Whilst Singer’s quiet and restrained approach to vocals offered some nice contrasts to the gritty guitar music that surrounded her (her almost-whispered performance in frugging standout Y Ddawns was deliciously sinister), other songs demanded a bigger stage presence and a vocal commitment Singer never seemed prepared to offer. Coeden Anniben’s bratty punk strop fell flat with Singer standing largely motionless on stage, and it’s no wonder that there was never the faintest whiff of a mosh pit amongst the Cluny patrons (in fact, sometimes it felt like I was the only one dancing). Singer was upstaged when she swapped roles with Anthony for Pelydr-X, who duly wrapped the mic cord around her neck like a feather boa, planted a boot on an on-stage monitor and gave it her all. It was a theatrical performance that elevated an otherwise middling track, but it also highlighted how much better Adwaith could be with a little more charisma and chutzpah.

Sanas, the recent album’s exhilaratingly unhinged prog rock interlude, disappointingly didn’t make the cut for this show, but we did get its follow-up Miliwn. Easily the band’s most tightly written pop-rock composition, it was only at this point that Singer seemed to fully relax, digging into an anthemic chorus over a lively bassline (the fact that “miliwn” is a simple cognate of the English “million” allowed for a rare opportunity for an audience singalong in Newcastle). Heledd Owen was an engine on the drums at the back of the stage, and Singer’s hook is a knockout. One suspects more singles of this quality are only a matter of time for Adwaith, but for now Miliwn stands alone as their finest effort.

The applause at the end of the set lasted just about long enough to justify an encore of the band’s sleeper hit Fel i Fod and the sweetly sentimental Eto, before the trio were unplugging their guitars and hurrying over to man their own merch stand. I obtained a set list from Owen and happily strolled back onto the streets of Ouseburn and back under Byker Bridge. It had been a satisfying if unspectacular midweek fixture – the gigging equivalent to a 1-0 win at home – but I was reassured that I’d supported a worthy up-and-coming band, both with my ticket fee and my lonesome yet committed dancing at the front and centre of the crowd. I may not have understood a word Hollie Singer sang, but strolling back home along dark wooded lanes, I was left certain that Adwaith’s star is in the ascendance.

PUP live at Project House review – propulsive pop punk pandemonium

The Canadian racket-makers specialise in gloomy songs about hopelessness and self-loathing, but this exhilarating blitz of bangers in Leeds brought nothing but joy to an amped up crowd eager to throw their drinks – and each other – in the air.

About three songs into PUP’s Leeds gig hands are already sprouting up from the centre of the crowd between songs. It’s not out of music-induced joy, but requests for the paper cups of water the stewards in front of the stage are already handing out – such is the heart-racing intensity of this band’s mosh-primed punk tracks. By the time a much needed drink comes my way, the next song is already revving into gear, a volley of cymbals setting the people around me in frenzied motion. I end up drinking half of it and spilling the rest over myself and the poor woman next to me in the ensuing carnage. 90 minutes later, it will be hard to spot a concertgoer not drenched in an odorous mix of water, sweat and beer as they stagger out the venue and back into reality.

PUP have no doubt seen scenes such as these many times before. The Toronto quartet are now five excellent albums in to a steadily successful career in the business of laying their hearts on the line over high octane guitar riffs and pounding drums. 2016’s fan favourite The Dream Is Over and more polished follow-up Morbid Stuff were nothing less than classics of the genre, Stefan Babcock’s unremittingly grim lyrics about harsh Canadian winters proving a winning combination with his anthemic and gloriously catchy melodies. Those albums were a creative high water mark that PUP – and most rock bands, in fact – have struggled to regain ever since, although this month’s new release Who Will Look After the Dogs? proved Babcock’s appetite for catchy nihilism isn’t going anywhere soon (the very first lyrics read “Staring into the void now / You’re going down with the ship”.)

In fact, PUP’s numerous songs about depression, hopelessness and loneliness are so intensely bleak you can understand Babcock feeling a little uncomfortable singing them night after night to packed rooms of thrilled fans. “These songs are so depressing, but we play them and you guys look like you’re smiling and having a good time and it feels… good,” Babcock tells us touchingly at one point. Cue Sleep In The Heat, a song about living alone and “blacking out on my carpet” which sparks sheer bedlam. “You wasted away / And nothing I do is gonna save you,” Babcock’s lyrics admit, but the fans are more interested in belting the free-spirited “woah-oh” hook, one hand on their chests and the other in the air as if it were the national anthem.

Such is the remarkable power of music: write a good melody and even words written from the lowest depths of depression can feel paradoxically awe-inspiring, life-affirming and even hopeful. Time and again, PUP pulled off this artistic miracle in front of an anarchic crowd lapping up every last power chord. Totally Fine’s flirtation with suicidal ideation sparked a wave of crowd surfers, crashing over my shoulders every 30 seconds or so. Free At Last had us screaming PUP’s most brilliantly bitter lyric (“Just ‘cause you’re sad again / It doesn’t make you special”) as Nestor Chumak sprinted through a sinuous bass line and Steve Sladkowski delivered one of the night’s many exquisite guitar solos.

The up tempo bangers came quick and fast, and perhaps a more shrewd use of the band’s slower numbers might have resulted in a stronger reception for recent single Get Dumber – for my money one of the band’s most exhilarating singles to date, but during which I found myself pogoing mostly alone. Babcock apologised before playing his pet song at the expense of the fans’ wishes (a cacophonous PUPTHEBAND Inc. Is Filing For Bankruptcy), but really this show offered a generous helping of old fan favourites. Nine year old magnum opus DVP was breathless musically and literally – one person pinned hard against the barriers had to be hurriedly extracted by stewards mid-song. Babcock couldn’t help but smile when a huge mosh circle formed spontaneously at the grand climax of Scorpion Hill; PUP have long graduated from the days of verbally coordinating these things. All Babcock needs to do is give a quick plea for a baseline level of personal safety at the start of the gig, and the rest of the mosh runs like clockwork, limbs flying and bodies rushing towards each other with instinctive glee.

Like all the best gigs, there was a sense that even Babcock and his bandmates felt that this particular gig was a special one. “Leeds has always been kind to us,” he told us gratefully, and there was a glint in his eye as he romped through an apocalyptic-sounding Paranoid, the band given extra heft by two guitarists from support act Illuminati Hotties. Hotties vocalist Sarah Tudzin stayed on stage for a rendition of Reservoir and promptly missed her cue for the first verse. No bother – the crowd were screaming along so loudly the vocals were barely audible anyway.

Metal-leaning Full Blown Meltdown was an oddly non-anthemic choice of song to close on, and PUP admirably refused to go through the usual encore pantomime. I had moshed my way to the front and was shouting the lyrics back at Babcock when he locked eyes with me, jumped off the stage and grabbed my hands, urgently shouting something off-mic. It didn’t take long for me to get the message – I set about hauling him into the air, pulling at his jeans and then lifting up his Converses above the sea of bodies behind me. It turned out to be a textbook piece of surfing from Babcock, moving at pace around the room six feet above the floor in a smooth arc before washing up back on stage just in time for the end of the song.

With that, PUP left the stage and the crowd caught their breath. A woman collected her cardigan now in tatters on the floor beside me. A man stood alone in the centre of the room holding up a single leather shoe, searching in vain for its owner. Friends reunited and hugged tightly before recounting their own tales from the mosh pit. I beelined for the water stand then relocated my own friends to hug and brag to about my moment with Stefan. The whole gig had been an extraordinary mix of violence and tenderness, loathing and loving, depression and euphoria. In each case, it was the latter that stuck with us in the smelly taxi ride home.

Not just background music: the art of the soundtrack

How exactly does the art of music-making change when it becomes a small part of a much larger video game or feature film? And what makes the soundtrack of Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse so remarkable? Alex Walden is on hand to reveal all.

One of the things that I love most about music is that it’s entirely subjective. There’s no genetic influence on what type of music you enjoy or what you look for in music; it’s completely down to just what your brain likes and that’s what makes it so unique. There’s complete freedom over what songs you like, what you like about music and what music you prefer to listen to while experiencing specific emotions. Take me for example: I can go from Kanye West to Nirvana straight to Jorja Smith like its nothing. Music’s ability to merge its way into any and every situation in life is one of the best things about it. So, what happens when entertainment corporations begin to realise this? The simple answer is that you get soundtracks, a collection of songs which feature sometimes extensive lists of artists from the same genre who are recruited to essentially convey to you how a project should sound. If done well, these soundtracks can become a great way to further indulge yourself into a corporation’s project. But what makes a soundtrack so good? By looking at some of my favourite examples I hope to give you an insight into exactly that.

DOOM and the ability to immerse
To this day, the pair of unbranded plain grey headphones that my father bought for me as a Christmas gift years ago remain one of my essential items. The main reason for this is that they come with what was at the time a new feature known Active Noise Cancelling. Although I found this feature amazing when I first experienced it, it made me appreciate the idea of having music as background noise more. For example, as I’m typing this right now on my busted AirPods at about 60% volume in my silent room I can still hear the tapping sound of my fingers on my laptop, which is helping me from becoming completely focused on this Slum Village album, whilst helping me focus on what I’m writing. The addition of music is sometimes the crucial piece needed to allow a consumer to become immersed in entertainment and Mick Gordan’s DOOM soundtrack is a prime example of this.

For those who don’t know, DOOM is a video game series which has been going since 1993. What started out as a simple arcade-style shooter has gradually progressed in recent years to become one of the most intense games ever released. You can only imagine how intense a game set on Mars with your primary objective to kill everything in sight in increasingly gruesome ways could be. Filled with fast paced action and highly detailed combat sequences, this game series has earned its place as one of my favourite game series to play. The game itself may be great, but the soundtrack is the driving force as to why this game is so special.

DOOM‘s original release dates back to 1993

As you tread through the game’s map you are given a subtle warning as a stream of white noise and bass tones hit you. In addition these sounds have been completely transformed by an extensive list of phasers, pedals, distortion boxes, reverb effects and many more. These short stretches of music are known as stems and are designed to give you an uneasy feeling of dread. It forces your brain to tell you “I don’t know what’s up ahead but whatever it is, it’s going to a be a lot”. As soon as the combat starts, the game’s techno-based sounds are completely thrown out the window, now replaced with no-nonsense metal. The addition of heavy metal music which accompanies a swarm of demons as they head directly towards you forces your body to produce a surge of adrenaline as you try fight your way through the horde.

Mick Gordon’s idea of combining metal with electronic sounding drums and heavily altered stems is not only genius, but also extremely difficult to pull off. Metal music has always been a violent badass and extremely niche category of music. It’s aggressive, fast paced and resembles everything about this new generation of music that your grandma hates. However, the fact that metal is so niche that can be its downfall sometimes. There are occasions metal fans don’t like when their genre is mixed in with more cliché genres such as techno. They feel as if their music is being watered down or that the people who make it are just doing it for money, not just the love of music. Yet Mick Gordon is able to use just the right amount of techno influence in extremely heavy basslines to add that extra kick that makes the music hit that bit more. I mean seriously – the drums and guitar riffs in this game are completely unmatched. It sounds something far beyond the capabilities of some video game composer from Australia.

Sometimes I need to pause DOOM… either I need to turn my volume down or I feel way out of my depth.

There have been times when I’ve had to pause the game while in the middle of a combat scene. This is always because of two reasons: either I need to turn my volume down because I can feel a headache coming on, or I just feel way out of my depth and need a minute to gather myself before I jump back into the game. That’s why I love DOOM so much. I’ve never played a game where I feel as if I’m being mentally dragged right out of my comfort zone, pushing myself to my limits as I try to comprehend everything around me while also trying to stay alive. I assure you that without a soundtrack, this game wouldn’t feel the same. (No seriously, I’ve actually played the whole game on mute while I watch a show in the background). But with Mick Gordon’s remarkable background music blasting through my ears, my mind constantly bounces back and forth between the thoughts of how amazing a song is and how I’m currently flirting with death in my game right now. It’s as if the game is able to control my brain, messing with me so that I’ll find it all the more challenging to complete.

Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse and the construction of fictional universes

It’s time I let you into my lives a little more now. I have to admit I’m practically in love with the Post Malone and Swae Lee song Sunflower. Ask anyone who knows me and they’ll tell you I have a borderline unhealthy addiction to this song. At the time of writing this, Sunflower is my most played song on Spotify since I created my account (that must say something considering that this I discovered this song 5 years after I first created my account). If I’m honest, I could easily write a whole dissertation level paper about how the movie, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse, is a perfect movie but for now I’m going to attempt to restrain myself and try to only talk about why the soundtrack is able to help construct a fictional universe for the consumer.

Spider-Man: Into the Spiderverse received widespread critical acclaim in 2018 for its creative storytelling and hit-filled soundtrack

Spider-Man Into the Spider-Verse is, in my opinion, the best spider-man film made to date. The story follows Black and Puerto-Rican teen Miles Morales as he begins his journey at the Brooklyn Visions Academy. It’s clear from the beginning that Miles isn’t a huge fan of the academy and feels pressured to live up to his father’s expectations. However, while hanging out with his Uncle Aaron, Miles’ entire world gets completely flipped upside down when he gets bitten by a radioactive spider. I’ll spare you my synopsis of this film, but seriously there’s practically and endless list as to why I love this movie so much. One of the key things I always notice is that like most teens in this day and age, Miles gets anxious and things can feel mentally out of his control very quickly. It’s through music that Miles is able to calm himself down, which I know is a very common practice for people who struggle with anxiety, so we naturally relate to him because we see he’s just a kid underneath the mask.

One of the best decisions Marvel made was constructing this specific movie soundtrack. We feel as if we’re being brought into Miles’ world. With tracks like What’s Up Danger and Start a Riot we get the textbook high energy songs that let our minds wander and draw up our own Spidey-themed scenarios in our heads, but with tracks such as Sunflower, Invincible and Scared of the Dark we’re brought into Miles’ personal life. Behind all the vigilante stunts, he’s really just a kid from Brooklyn. It’s through this that were able to build a connection with Miles and we feel as if we actually know him – after all, we know his music taste, his character traits, and his biggest secret.

It’s through the soundtrack that we’re about to build a connection with Miles. We see he’s just a kid underneath his mask.

One of the most common issues with movie soundtracks today is that, although companies tend to recruit artists who are in the mainstream scene at the time, it often sounds forced and cringey because let’s face it, the number one rule with any creative passion is that it shouldn’t be forced because everyone can tell when it’s not from the heart. I’ve even read up on cases where artists have been paid to name drop specific brands in their lyrics. People can tell if you have a genuine passion for something or if you’re just doing it for clout. But with Into the Spider-Verse’s soundtrack, Marvel managed to group together artists who fit quite well in the hip hop and pop rap categories, so for them this was just another song for them to write. In particular, you can hear how good the genuine chemistry is between Post and Swae throughout the song Sunflower. It’s probably why Post decided to take Swae Lee on tour with him after the songs release.

mid90s and cultural representation

If you would’ve told me when I was a kid that hip hop would become one of the most popular genres of music in the future, including the number one in America at one point, I would’ve thought that you were talking complete nonsense and I’d have fair reason to. Up until 2016, hip hop was seen as the outcast genre. It was viewed as the genre which your kids should avoid and hip hop artists were deemed to have no valid musical talent. One of my other favourite hobbies as a kid which also got a bad rep was skateboarding. I grew up in the era of skateboarding where the days of kids watching Tony Hawk blast off crazy huge ramps and go around pools were starting to fade as street skating grew in popularity. This obviously led to skateboarding being viewed as a reckless sport which some people even saw as a crime. The representations of these two interests of mine are why they used to be home to quite niche communities, which is the same reason they ended up getting represented so poorly in mainstream media, because the people who write about it often don’t know anything about it. Despite this, there is the odd moment where it’s done well and mid90s is a prime example of how it’s done perfectly.

Jonah Hill gave all the kids on set real iPods to listen to 90s hip hop on. As someone who skates, this is a major victory.

The story of mid90s is relatively simple. It follows 13-year-old Stevie (Sunny Suljic) as he navigates his way through summer accompanied by a troubling home life and a group of friends he meets at the local skate shop. What I like most about this film is that it accurately represents the skate community by showing all skaters are different; hell, some of the skaters in this film are in their teens while some are just kids. It’s not just some attempt at seeming edgy for a money grab. In fact, all the people who play skaters in mid90s were skating way before they were acting. You can find them on the Illegal Civ YouTube channel which is what makes this movie so comforting to watch you feel as if you’re just watching some kids skate. It doesn’t feel like you’re watching some scripted attempt at making skating seem rebellious and edgy.

mid90s marked Jonah Hill’s directorial debut in 2018

One of the best aspects of this film is that it features music from the time that the film is set. As a matter of fact, director Jonah Hill gave all of the kids on set iPods which were all filled with songs that he used to listen to growing up in the 90s. Many of the songs on these iPods were from artists such as Pixies, Wu Tang Clan and The Pharcyde who were also featured during the movie. Now, to the average viewer this would just be seen as a method to help add to a scene, but as someone who skates this is a major victory. I remember hearing 93 ’til Infinity by Souls of Mischief and Put It On by Big L and feeling surprised that a movie about skating was using songs that actual skaters listen to. My friends and I actually listen to some of these songs on the regular and I’m hearing it in this movie? It felt weird at first but then it felt great realising that the director, who had decided to bring quite a small sport to the big screen, had actually nailed the portrayal of skaters and had taken the steps necessary to do so. Not only that, but thanks to mid90s I was able to discover loads of new artists and songs. After watching the movie, one of the first things I did was find a Spotify playlist with all the songs featured in the movie. I was blessed with Spotfiy’s own official mid90s playlist which even included small anecdotes from Jonah Hill himself. It was through this playlist that I was able to discover golden era hip hop and how as well as good music, it doubled as an awesome soundtrack for skating. I remember trying to skate around my neighbourhood while listening artists such as Raekwon, Nirvana and, now one of my favourite groups of all time, A Tribe Called Quest. It was through times like this that I was able to explore skate culture which has become one of the best parts about my daily life. Of course, there were other instances as to why I had discovered skating, like the famous Tony Hawk games, but I feel as if it weren’t for mid90s I wouldn’t have been able to link together this fun hobby with one of my favourite things in the world, music, which has led to skating and skate culture becoming a huge part of me.


So there you have it: three examples of how a soundtrack can become a valuable feature of any project. I feel like often soundtracks can get overlooked by some who just view it as an accessory and I will admit that sometimes it can fit that description if poorly constructed, yet I hope that these three examples of iconic soundtracks have helped you realise that soundtracks can often be underrated. Maybe it’s just my habit of having a particular interest the little things and small details talking for me, who knows? What I do know though, is that next time you go watch a movie or play a video game or even go somewhere with your friends or family and you feel some extreme emotion whether it be joy, sadness, anger, or any other variation of mood, pay attention to what music is playing in the background or the songs that you play that day. You might make some amazing memories which you can then attach to a specific song. That is what makes soundtracks so amazing.