Tag Archives: dance

Confidence Man live at NX review – ludicrous dance-pop tears the roof off
9
Dec

Fresh from releasing their third – and finest – album, there’s simply no room left for duds in Confidence Man’s supremely silly live show. Even by Newcastle’s high standards, Saturday nights out don’t get much more ecstatic than this.

The first thing you should know about Confidence Man is that the band’s two singers go by the names Sugar Bones and Janet Planet. The other two band members perform exclusively behind what can only be described as wide-brimmed midge-proof hats. Together they make willfully silly dance-pop, and their notorious live show involves camp, somewhat stilted dancing, all duly served to the crowd with unflinching poker faces. If aliens learnt about dance music only through a Wikipedia page and decided to invade Earth in the guise of an Australian four-piece electropop band, they would sound and look an awful lot like Confidence Man.

If Con Man’s aim really is gradual world domination, their plan is working. October’s 3 AM (LA LA LA) was their third LP and quite possibly their best, a full-throttle clubby blast featuring a bounty of nostalgic musical references to Britain’s famous 90s rave scene, plus enough of a resemblance to Charli xcx to get the youngsters like me excited. It is 47 minutes of gloriously uncomplicated party music best enjoyed with your hands in the air and feet off the ground.

It made sense, then, that 3AM only sounded more glorious when flowing out of NX’s meaty soundsystem and into a packed room of dancing fans. Amidst the blasting dance beats, Planet and Bones’ kitsch choreo was occasionally impressive (a few of Janet’s somersaults would score well on Strictly) but always hilarious, delivered with a faux-seriousness that made it clear that we were watching a performance, and by no means the musicians’ authentic selves. In today’s post-Brat world, where popstars are obliged to lay out their deepest and darkest emotions on a record, there was something refreshing about seeing an act plainly giving the fans what they want: 90 tears-free minutes of quality entertainment.

And what entertainment. Breakout hit Now U Do was hastily disposed of at the very start of the set, but justifiably so – Con Man’s new stuff makes this mellow house track sound almost soporific. Recent single I Can’t Lose You, for example, is pure electro-pop gold – a sticky, agitated synth line set to a stellar vocal hook. The band have been churning out winning earworms for years now, but this is surely the most ruthlessly catchy ditty Sugar and Janet have ever penned. Control similarly provoked delirium in NX with its heady swirl of techno bass, backed by suitably batty visuals on the giant screen behind the band – think pigeons with laser eyes and badgers smoking cigarettes.

Not once did Bones and Planet falter in their complete commitment to the bit, launching from one side of the stage to the other as they recounted dancefloor love affairs and wild drug-fuelled nights out, occasionally pausing to execute an acrobatic lift. Album highlight Real Move Touch was served with a particularly involving dance routine, fitting for this breathless sugar rush of a dance track. In Newcastle, Janet’s pivotal yelp of “Don’t you know you make me want to scream?!” sounded utterly electrifying, the perfect distillation of the dopamine-filled mania this concert tended to induce.

Even 3AM’s more questionable tracks were given shrewd facelifts on the night. The patience-testing ode to psychedelics Breakbeat was rescued by a spot of crowd participation, whilst Sugar Bones’ sludgy solo number Sicko came with the theatre of seeing Janet smash a sugar glass bottle over his head (karma perhaps for Sugar Bones uncorking a full bottle of champagne on the front rows – myself included – in a particularly giddy moment a few songs earlier).

It must be said that, if it wasn’t already obvious, lyrically Janet Planet is no Shakespeare. Intoxicatingly heavy frugger All My People reads “With a face like that there’s no conversation / With an ass like that there’s no hesitation” (no prizes for guessing the choreography keynotes here), and pathetic boyfriends account for much of the lyrical inspiration. A Con Man gig is not the place for mulling over nuanced metaphors, nor should it be. Janet and Sugar instead focus their efforts on roof-raising beats and titillating visuals, two things they do extremely well. The exception was So What, which hides its musings on the pointlessness of taking life too seriously behind a curtain of trashy Eurodance synths. Whether they were listening to the words or not, the crowd – encouraged to give each other piggy backs – greeted the track like it was a legendary Eurovision winner.

Reggie Goodchild and Clarence McGuffie (or so they call themselves) were unsung heroes, cooking up club beats behind their veils at the back of the stage and more than proving their worth in two extended instrumental breaks that succeeded in keeping the crowd’s hands happily bouncing in the air even without the two frontpeople for encouragement. Sugar and Janet eventually returned to stage wearing little more than light-up underwear and took back control with a terrific rendition of Boyfriend (Repeat), perhaps the biggest fan favourite in a night of fan favourites.

Effervescent hit Holiday wrapped up the show before an encore of 3AM’s title track, home to the band’s most artfully melodic hook. A shirtless Bones flexed his biceps one last time, Planet (now in a frilly maid’s costume) delivered a final pout, and the crowd erupted. It had been a Saturday night out for the ages. Releasing her pose and taking a final moment to appreciate the crowd, Janet finally dropped her stern persona and cracked a smile. Who could blame her? Everything about this night was pure euphoria from start to finish.

Fat Dog live at Project House review – barking mad dance-rock is a treat
15
Nov

The much-hyped band crowned a breakout year with a bangers-only 45 minute blitz in Leeds, packed with mammoth riffs and thunderous bass lines. Even the band’s photographer couldn’t resist the pull of a vintage mosh pit.

Twilight on a moody November evening by the canal in Leeds, and the leaking locks are hissing harshly behind a gloomy row of trees. At 8 p.m. it’s still just about bright enough to make out the passing clouds, oddly glowing with light pollution against navy skies. I’ve only just arrived, but I already feel exhausted – with the murky recent weather, a cold going round and a certain election result, I can’t have been the only one approaching Project House feeling weighed down by November blues. I walked towards the reassuring thud of live music – the muffled sounds of what turned out to be a rather dreadful support slot from Truthpaste – hopeful the music might provide some catharsis.

As it happened, few bands do reckless, enthralling catharsis quite like Fat Dog. Like Black Country, New Road and Black Midi, they were borne out of the fertile left-field music scene centred on the legendary Windmill venue in Brixton, making a name for themselves in recent years solely through notoriously wild live shows. Fat Dog’s unique sound is charged with an impulsive energy that makes it easy for audiences to be swept away by it all even without prior exposure. Remarkably, one scant album into their career, Fat Dog have already carved out a distinct stylistic niche – aggressive industrial dance music with thunderous unisons riffs, scuzzy saxophone and yelped, barely coherent vocals about impending doom. Think somewhere between Madness and Daft Punk, but with more lyrical references to slug invasions. It’s unlike anything I’ve heard before.

You could forgive Fat Dog for being exhausted themselves – they’ve essentially been on tour for their entire career so far, including a marathon four performances on various small stages at this year’s Glastonbury. Emerging onto stage to a volley of drums and a tremble of deep synth bass, frontman Joe Love was a wonderfully enigmatic figure, his eyes barely open beneath a canopy of curly locks and a white Stetson. Vocally, he made no sense either, producing a manic yelp of “It’s Fat Dog baby!” at the start of the concert, sounding more menacingly deranged than comical.

Such is the unique appeal of Fat Dog, a band who on paper sound jokey – drummer Johnny ‘Doghead’ Hutch has a penchant for performing in a German shepherd mask, sadly not donned in Leeds – but in reality sound like credible harbingers of the apocalypse. It didn’t take long for the audience to start colliding with each other to the sounds of Vigilante, an album opener which brilliantly pairs a mammoth hook with a haunting, vaguely Eastern European folk melody. Gone were the intricate details of the studio recording – most notably a melodramatic spoken word passage, and a gigantic-sounding string orchestra carrying the hook – but in Leeds an additional percussionist was let loose on an arsenal of bongos and cymbals, more than plugging the gap. The result was an intoxicatingly heavy three minutes that had an instant, drug-like effect on the audience, who duly threw their arms – and beers – up in the air.

Joe Love’s performance was intimate for those in the front row.

It was enthralling – but then again I’m bound to say that, since Love spent a majority of this brief gig right next to me, close enough I could have nicked his hat. He leaned against the barriers for song after song, singing directly to his devotees like a young Nick Cave, only with less heartfelt hand-holding and more woofing into the microphone. It was a thrill to be in the mix of bodies with their arms reaching up towards him, but I doubt the people a little further back from me – spending most of the gig looking at a largely empty stage – would have agreed.

From my fortunate vantage point amidst the mosh, the only possible downside of Fat Dog’s set was that each song was almost too exhaustingly compelling. Seven-minute opus King of the Slugs was a marathon of industrial beats, particularly in its propulsive second half where the tempo was ruthlessly dialled up a notch. Wither similarly took off like a rocket, Jacqui Wheeler’s restless bass riff and Love’s oddball intonations of “You better wither, baby, before you die” whipping up a frenzy in the crowd. The bedlam was so irresistible that, in one exquisite moment of rock ‘n’ roll, even the hired photographer camped out beside the stage in front of me felt compelled to down tools and leap into the crowd, practically landing on top of me. A few seconds later I watched her drift off to the dim recesses at the back of the venue as Morgan Wallace’s saxophone squealed like a wounded pig.

Even I Am the King, the unconvincing ballad lodged in the middle of the band’s debut album, sounded gripping in Leeds, the shimmering backing of strings given new urgency by Hutch’s rapid hit-hats ticking away like a time bomb. “I am the king… and it means nothing at all,” Love repeated again and again with rising desperation, the swirl of synths rising around him like floodwaters. Yes, Love has penned plenty of silly lyrics (his first words in his debut album are “Granny’s tights on my head”), but this was a moment of genuine artistry and the evening’s only opportunity for pause and reflection.

It all came to ahead with an electrifying rendition Running, a stupendous single and one of the very best songs from any band this year. It’s a masterclass in tension and release, evident in Leeds when it triggered not one but three mosh circles (where fans clear an area of the floor then rush into the space when the chorus hits). The lengthy bridge in particular was excruciatingly tense, and by the time the eventual payoff came – a panoply of winning hooks, all neatly foreshadowed earlier in the song – bodies were circulating in the crowd as if swept up in a fast-moving lazy river.

An encore of noughties rave classic Satisfaction – a perfect riff for Wallace to attack on her saxophone – wrapped things up before the clocks struck 10 p.m.. Too early to call it a night perhaps, but I’m not sure if I had the physical fitness for much more, and the revellers around me looked like they’d been worked to exhaustion too. In the end, the crowd simply barked in unison instead of asking for one more song – if Fat Dog had indeed imbued their strange music with some sort of magic potion, it had worked a charm.

Jessie Ware: That! Feels Good! review – riotous party album makes for a worthy sequel
14
Aug

Continuing on from the success of her masterful 2020 release, That! Feels Good! is every bit as delightfully danceable as its predecessor, with more cheeky funk bass lines than you can wave a disco finger at.

By 2020, Jessie Ware seemed to have found a comfortable, if unflashy sort of fame. Three albums of dependably listenable pop had earned her a loyal fanbase big enough to secure European and American touring dates and the promise of longevity on the fringes of the British pop mainstream. A label deal with industry giant Island Records gave her access to songwriting megastars like Benny Blanco and Ed Sheeran, and Ware seemed to settle into her place in the British pop landscape, making occasional appearances in the UK Top 40 or even on the One Show. Nonethless, she was rarely talked about compared to the Adeles or the Dua Lipas of the world.

And yet, in the midst of the pandemic, Jessie Ware’s career dramatically shifted course. Her fourth album, What’s Your Pleasure?, did away with her previously broad-brush pop for scintillating, razor-focused dance music that fizzed with a newfound purpose – namely to recreate every inch of the clubbing experience right down to the smoking area and toilet cubicles. Indeed, the magic of What’s Your Pleasure? was in its powers of musical worldbuilding. To listen to those patient, swirling synth grooves and intoxicating bass riffs if so be swept away in a blissfully sweaty club, lost in the ecstacy of seemingly endless dance music. Closing track and soulful standout Remember Where You Are came tinged with the sweet melancholy of the silent taxi ride home.

In many ways, That! Feels Good! feels like an answer to its predecessor’s titular question. This album does away with What’s Your Pleasure?‘s moments of rumination in favour of explicit dancefloor diktats. “Stand up! / Turn around! / Take a bow!” Ware bellows on Beautiful People, seemingly relishing her role as party commander on chief. The title track opens the album and is about as unambiguous as album manifestos come: “Everybody gets a little modest and shy sometimes / Just remember, pleasure is a right!” Ware pronounces us in a lyric that lingers in the mind as the enthralling, pleasure-rich dance numbers start to come thick and fast.

For much of That! Feels Good!, Ware seems to be taking the Vulfpeck approach to music making: music trumps lyrics, immediacy trumps depth, groove is king. It’s a strategy that relies heavily on the quality of the music (for which the lyrics merely play a supporting role), but in the safe hands of an increasingly disginguished industry pro such as Ware, it’s a strategy that pays dividends. Lines like “Free yourself / Keep on moving up that mountaintop” on Free Yourself might sound clunky and clichéd on paper, but it’s difficult (and downright inappropriate) to put a magnifying glass up to the words as thumping piano riff and driving drum groove provides the song an immediate lift off. To listen to such a joyfully retro groove and not get swept up in the self-aware campness of Ware’s vocal performance is like showing up to a mosh pit hoping to find somewhere to unfold your comfortable camping chair. House-adjacent firecracker Freak Me Now is even more innately thrilling, Ware’s punchy hook finding home in a glorious, restless Daft Punk-esque keyboard riff designed to be played long into the night. Even more than the rest of Ware’s discography, this is the sort of roof-raiser that is will be best served live, no doubt to a dense crowd of whooping, carefree revellers. (Undertone‘s tickets are very much booked.)

Like all great dance music, bass is the secret sauce here. Strong bass lines are abound on That! Feels Good! most obviously on the title track and playful Shake The Bottle, a song littered with even more cheeky double entendres than is customary for Ware. A rumbling bass provides plenty of heft to funky highlight Pearls, a track suitably decked out with all the bell whistles – a seemingly endless hoarde of backing vocalists, plus a weighty strings section and excessive bar chime glissandos. Begin Again is grander still, a song that may owe a little too much to Another Star for some tastes but nonetheless provides the same pathos and sense of theatre as the work of His Royal Stevieness. The heavily orchestrated feeling of drama is apt for a song ostensibly about post-pandemic relaunch, and the gospel chants of “can we be who we were at the start again?” come with a tinge of vulnerability as the horns swell into a breathtaking final minute. It’s a song that manages to recreate the staggering magnitude of the world hurtling towards a new way of living, whether we like it or not.

That! Feels Good! is heavy on uptempo party fuel, but an exhausting onslaught of high octane jams it is not. Touching love song Hello Love offers a first chance to catch your breath, the heavy kick drums momentarily swapped out for a delicate bed of simmering congas and gently soaring strings. Lyrically, it’s a blatant attempt by Ware to slot into the newly-wed first dance canon alongside the likes of Thinking Out Loud or Marry You, but it’s also a genuinely heartwarming tale of old lovers reconnecting that’s worth swooning over. Towards the end of the record, Lightning is a more nuanced but no less beautiful change in pace. “I can give you all of me every night,” Ware languishes with trademark sensuality, her silky smooth vocals aided by a soothing wave of R&B backing vocals.

Satisfyingly, this sequel to What’s Your Pleasure? has a closing track that’s a worthy match for Remember Where You Are‘s unique allure. These Lips is the peppier, perhaps more optimistic of the two album closers, but nonetheless showcases Ware’s uncanny ability to create an instinctive sense of ending. There’s no need to process the words she is singing; the yearning of These Lips is palpable in the chorus, before Ware reigns herself back into a cheeky funk groove, never one to over-egg it. “I wanted the fade-out to go on for fucking ever,” she told Rolling Stone of the final moments, and who could blame her? The highs of the mellifluous grooves prior make tearing yourself away from the technicoloured fantasy world of That! Feels Good! a struggle. No, this album doesn’t reinvent the wheel, nor does it provide much lyrical meat beyond the joys of dance and sensual pleasure, but equally there is absolutely no reason to for anything more from Ware. This album is a fun, unapologetic burst of escapism so visceral the outside world feels a little less vibrant in comparison when that final bass line disappears towards the horizon.

Jockstrap live at Belgrave Music Hall review – a delightfully dark fever dream
20
Feb

At their best when basking in strobe lights and stage smoke, Jockstrap proved their credentials in Leeds as artists at the cutting edge of electronic music. No other artist can even begin to sound like them.

Walking into the main concert room of Belgrave Music Hall shortly after doors opened, I was confronted with a disconcerting scene. Smoky and lit a pungent blood red, the room was almost entirely empty save for two lone figures stood beneath the stage and several more sat ominously on seats by the walls around me. Strangest of all, an eerily serene Tchaikovsky string quartet played loudly through the speakers. Such gentle music felt like a poorly disguised lure into some supervillain’s lair, and I took a minute or two to wait on the benches as the crowds built before taking the bait myself and finding a spot at the front.

The background music was an aptly unsettling way to set the tone for the night ahead. Jockstrap’s music may often involve instruments we all know and love – piano, acoustic guitar, strings – but quite how the duo stitch these raw materials together varies wildly, although a meticulous, avant garde approach to electronics usually has a part to play. Underpinning it all is a knack for sinister lyricism and haunting, half-whispered melodies to match the alien concoction of sounds. Talented vocalist Georgia Ellery doubles as violinist in cult chamber rock group Black County, New Road, but the endlessly creative production of Taylor Skye ensures that Jockstrap’s sound is starkly different to her other project: darker, harsher and altogether even less accessible. Ants From Up There turns out to be excellent gateway drug to Jockstrap superfandom.

Ellery occasionally took to violin and acoustic guitar, whilst Skye crafted the beats

They may not sound quite like BC,NR, but the thirst for creative, eyebrow-raising songwriting is the same. On the duo’s slightly more straightforward tracks, this manifested itself in adventurous harmony, like on the shimmering Greatest Hits. Perhaps the closest thing Jockstrap have got to a pop singalong, the catchy “I believe in dreams, do you?” hook had the crowd on the pair’s side early on. There was of course no real drummer for the outstanding percussion break in the bridge, but Ellery was comfortable enough dancing impressively on stage, maintaining the excitement. All night, boredom was an impossibility. Even during these instrumental breaks, Ellery seemed laser focussed on the task at hand, be it decoratively splaying her hands in the air or squatting and clutching the mic stand like a predator in some of the more menacing passages of music. Further away from me, a shadowy Skye cowered over his synthesisers, the humble mastermind behind Jockstrap’s compelling soundworld. The occasions he peeked out his shell for a moment singing lead vocals on the apex of a few songs felt momentous.

Most of the time the genres were harder to define than Greatest Hits‘ retro soul or Acid‘s sumptuous R&B. Debra, for example, sounded like a deeply disturbed Macarena, technical vocal melodies meandering over stuttering, harsh drum grooves. A lyric as heavy and profound as “grief is just love with nowhere to go” was immediately followed by a gleeful “press Y for a party!” and, stood right next to the booming speakers, it felt like I’d dived deep into a dark fever dream where the music made no sense but compelled me to move with the group nonetheless. By the time the utterly bizarre (yet inspired) Bollywood strings entered, it felt like I could have been on another planet entirely.

The remarkable Robert pushed Jockstrap’s craving for musical rulebreaking to its logical extreme. Baleful deadpan spoken vocals (“you’re provoking me, Robert,”) were all the more potent over Skye’s earsplittingly loud synth bass, before a tumult of rapid hip hop, screeching sirens and clanging percussion. “I am very impressed,” Ellery spoke during one gap in the melee with ice cool nonchalance, and witnessing it all, it was hard not to be impressed by the sheer intensity of the performance. It was a nonsensical cacophony, but helped by Ellery’s earnest performance, it was a treat to dive into the chaos.

Ellery’s stage presence was strong throughout

Despite all the full-throttle weirdness, the calmed, reassuring sound of real instruments on the classical music that began the night wasn’t completely inappropriate for an act as sonically varied as Jockstrap. Glasgow, for example, ends with a stunning passage of soaring strings alongside a sorrowful acoustic guitar melody that was loudly belted out by the keen fans behind me, and an opening harp played on keyboard by Skye was just as pretty. Similarly beautiful guitar ballad What’s It All About? was one of the highlights of the duo’s recent debut album and here the luscious strings accompaniment remained charming, as did the inventive harmonic progressions. It was a shame that this time an overbearing bass sound was a detraction rather than a benefit for such a light, serene track. Neon‘s transition from ominous folk to head-banging noise rock was exciting to witness in the flesh, although the big moment was crucially let down by mistimed lights and Ellery’s guitar strap slipping off.

It wasn’t until the transcendent Concrete Over Water near the end of the set that Jockstrap finally struck that perfect balance between chaos and calm. A serene, sparse verse gave way to a strangely affecting, sporadic synth hook that was miraculously controlled by Skye who, head bowed over a synthesiser, resembled a wizard casting a powerful spell. Throw in a stuttering, militaristic snare beat and haunting strings, and the result was one of his most alluring amalgomations of sound to date. Ellery also had plenty to give to the track, namely through a truly remarkable set of lyrics that shone brightest during the stark and vulnerable piano-led middle section, her melodies reaching for the heavens. As the song gathered pace for a final chorus and Ellery took to her violin for a spectacular instrumental, it seemed Jockstrap had discovered the perfect song to cry or dance to. I’m sure many in the audience were doing both.

Intense stage effects were a key element of the performance

And still, the pair had an ace up their sleeves before their brief encore and departure. 50/50, indisputably the biggest banger of their career, began with a brutal pummeling of dance bass and swirling synths, repurposing Belgrave Music Hall into a nightclub from hell. Soon enough we were chanting away to the non-sensical, yelped lyrics (“ah! eh! oo! ee! ah!” was one of the best vocal earworms) before Skye’s choppy drum machine intensified yet again. The mere act of the musician jumping from behind his keyboards and throwing his arms up in the air expectantly was the spark that ignited Belgrave. Soon enough I was engulfed in a viscious mosh pit, our hands reaching up to a furious looking Ellery as she reached back, our fingertips inches apart. Bodies collided and sweat flew as Ellery, doused in stage smoke and flickering in and out of view under kaleidoscopic strobe lights, bent double and screamed the words almost directly into our ears. The catharsis was so strong, any understanding whatsoever of the words we were yelling was unnecessary. My experience of live music had never been so intensely visceral.

50/50 was so all-consuming, returning to the real world outside after follow up I Want Another Affair felt like a shock. It felt like such an experience needed to be somehow mentally processed before I moved on to the task of finding my way home. Fellow fans clutching bright pink signed vinyls on the train platform seemed understandably too stunned to speak. Committing to a song so completely takes its toll, both physically and emotionally. In one sense, Jockstrap’s music had been a challenge to my musical open-mindedness, with its jarring electronics and unpredicatable chord changes (if indeed there are any chords to speak of). However, stood a few feet away from a spellbinding Georgia Ellery, loving their music was easy, a simple act of letting go and allowing whatever feelings that arise – be it rage or peace, joy or pain – to manifest themselves. As the lights dazzled my eyes and the copious mist washed over me, it felt only natural to lean into the beautiful chaos. Lost in it all, I’ve never felt so alive.

Parcels live at O2 Ritz review – reaching for nightclub nirvana
28
Nov

Leaning heavily into the world of nightclub-ready dance music, a constantly evolving Parcels gave plenty of reason to dance the night away for an eager Manchester crowd. As a live act, they’re only getting better and better.

It was brisk autumnal night in November 2018, and I’d just been offered Haribos by the stranger sat next to me in Brudenell Social Club‘s newly established Community Room. Parcels were about to take to the stage backed by shimmering strips of glittery foil, and I was about to take in the spectacle of a proper live pop gig for the very first time. I found myself stood right at Noah Hill’s feet, enjoying the boom of his bass and watching in astonishment as the normal-seeming crowd around me began dancing as if they could hardly control their limbs, with no care as to how silly they looked. In fact, I felt like the silly one standing almost stationary for most of the night, at least until the wait for the band’s big hit, Tieduprightnow, was over. In truth, I had got my generous parents to give me a lift to and from Leeds mostly just so I could hear that one song.

Four formative years later, and I wish I’d paid closer attention to the musical genius that was in front of me. Parcels have only grown since then – O2 Ritz is certainly several leagues above BSC in size; little old Leeds has fallen off a tour itinerary packed with big name European destinations – and my love for the band has grown with them. Their easily digestible falsetto funk-pop has been a companion of mine ever since that first gig, and the release of an ambitious and (mostly) fantastic double album, Day/Night, last year only cemented my infatuation. Nowadays Parcels spend much of their time thrilling audiences with grand tours across Europe where they have a devoted following, particularly in their base of Berlin. A far cry from the fledgling five-piece I saw in Leeds, Parcels are now an incredibly tight-knit group (their second album was recorded with the whole band living together at a Parisian recording studio) and also kings of fashion, having secured a brand deal with Gucci in 2020.

The band’s use of stage lights was interesting throughout the night

Whilst not nearly as glamorous, my situation has changed dramatically too, and I now faced a much longer traverse of northern England to see the five popstars than before. I arrived in Manchester after a late departure – clothes still damp from an earlier downpour and jeans stained from the aftermath of a mismanaged Greggs steak bake – only to find I’d mixed up my Ritzes and Apollos, but an Uber nonetheless managed to transfer me to the correct venue ten minutes before the band took to the stage. My view was of course poor and the usual pint of Coke had to be forgone, but being there for the opening number was what mattered most.

Faces hidden in darkness, the five men took to the stage and gradually pieced together a groove amidst strobe lights, that all-important crowd pleasing kick drum only unleashed after a few minutes of teasing. Eventually Lightenup came into view (a suprising replacement for beguiling album opener LIGHT), and soon the groove settled into one of the band’s most straightforwardly catchy choruses. Sinister Gamesofluck followed seamlessly and was exictingly pumped up to club tempo, although some of the original’s menace was lost in the attempt to get the crowd frugging right from the beginning. It was an opening that would indicate how dynamic the evening’s performance would be; band members often started and ended songs in different locations (occasionally requiring carefully orchestrated intervention from stagehands to move the various keyboards) and Parcels played for long stretches of non-stop music, one song morphing into another with the skill of a talented DJ. Several tracks were redesigned (and some cases miraculously reinvented) for the modern dancefloor. Anatole Serret’s kick drum, settling on a largely unwavering 120 beats ber minute, boomed heavier than ever under every intricate guitar groove, accompanied by Noah Hill’s dexterous basslines which only became more compelling with each repetition (and there were many repetitions).

Lordhenry, the greatest weakness of the band’s latest release, got the biggest facelift from the band’s stylistic change in direction, with a lumpy middle section mostly scrapped, with emphasis instead on the nut tight opening disco groove. An inspired use of spotlights had the band’s shadows stuttering and shifting behind them in time to the music, the silhouettes so crisp I had to take a moment check whether the background wasn’t just a pre-recorded video.

A band grouped together at the front for an a cappella moment

The best songs, of course, required little tinkering and Parcels were wise in mostly leaving them alone. Shimmering Comingback, with its exciting build and one of Serret’s finest drum parts, was an early unchanged crowdpleaser. Tieduprightnow was also rightly let loose early on – these days the band has plenty of valid replacements for the song as set closer – and the essence of the breakout hit was well maintained. Effortlessly light and catchy, the song is still quintessential Parcels, with silky smooth group falsetto finding a perfect match in Hill’s wonderfully agile bassline. Witnessing the opening riff belted out by the sizable crowd around me with such passion was a joy; I’ve not crunched the numbers, but Tieduprightnow may be my most listened-to song of all time. It was a small shame that extraordinary disco hit Famous wasn’t quite so successful in the flesh, partly down to the lack of punchy strings that propel the original recording. That said, Parcels’ commitment to keeping the show 100% live and authentic was admirable.

If Parcels faltered at any point at the Ritz, it was during the quieter numbers. Perhaps I was stood too close to the bar, but sleepy folk-country outlier Once seemed to go largely ignored by the crowd. Jules Crommelin’s directionless, somewhat dreary melody didn’t offer much reason to listen, either, and by the end there was a feeling a precious slot in the setlist had been wasted. Nuanced Theworstthing also didn’t quite translate to the stage despite some lovely solo guitar work from Crommelin, and the song began to feel tired after a minute or two.

The night’s biggest successes tended to involve grooves good enough for the five of them to wallow in for many minutes at a time without any sign of tiring. A perfect example of this was a surprise rendition of Spiller and Sophie Ellis-Bextor’s underappreciated 2000 hit Groovejet, which triggered one of the biggest crowd responses of the night, with hands flailing in the air and lungs roaring out the wonderfully apt lyric “if this ain’t love, why does it feel so good?”. “We’ve played this song in four European cities,” Patrick Hetherington told us mid-song, “and usually no one really sings along”. Cue even louder singing. In truth it was probably all because Groovejet hit number 1 in the UK but not in mainland Europe, but it was nice to have the feeling we were providing something special for the band, at least until they moved onto their next dates in Glasgow and London.

It was one of the band’s earliest singles, however, the provided the most blissful disco groove of the night. Hideout, reworked for 2019’s breathtaking live cut Elude, came to Manchester transformed once more, faster, busier and even more viscerally thrilling to witness. Now dark figures amongst a sea of dazzling strobe lights, Parcels became the masterminds of what every disco act must yearn for – one riff and four chords that simply never get old. With such a strong blueprint, the details of song structure seemed irrelevant, but big build-ups and the euphoric drops at the end of them only cemented a state of dancefloor nirvana. For those few minutes nothing else seemed to matter, and as the intensity peaked with every musician clearly giving their heart and soul to the music, Parcels seemed untouchable. A remarkable percussion break followed, with Serret driving it all with one ludicrous drum fill after another. It capped a breathless ten minutes of five Aussies at the peak of their powers.

Somethinggreater followed and struggled in the shadow of such a great number, although it remains a strong singalong track, and bassist Hill provided a joyous cameo as lead vocalist. Free was a slightly odd choice of closer but is nonetheless a compelling song, its exuberant piano riff only getting punchier with the eventual addition of a backbeat from Serret. The band ended the night at the front of the stage, singing in the glorious dense harmonies that they’ve become known for. The set had been well paced, and opting out of a contrived encore was shrewd.

In truth, by the time Free started up I was far too tired from my earlier adventures to truly drink in the moment. A headache lingered, as did my niggling worries about the long drive home, which turned out to be a mental battle to stay awake. The gig – and the three hour journey to get there – may have taken a greater toll on me than usual, but it had been worth it, and I could still say with confidence that Parcels’ show had been objectively outstanding, and even better than that unforgettable night at the Brudenell four years ago. I can only hope when Parcels return in another four years time I’ll live a little closer to the venue.

AURORA live at O2 Academy review – smiles all round
29
Apr

You paid £45 for a standing ticket, queued for 40 minutes for a £7.50 can of warm Coke, and left with your ears ringing. Was it worth it? For AURORA at the O2 Academy in Brixton on March 14, 2026 — absolutely. This review skips the fluff. Here’s exactly what happened, what worked, what didn’t, and whether you should grab tickets for the remaining dates.

Setlist breakdown: the hits, the deep cuts, and one surprise

She played 18 songs over 1 hour 45 minutes. No opening act. No encore break — she just walked off, the crowd chanted for two minutes, and she came back. Efficient.

The Seed opened the show. That thumping bass hit like a wall. She didn’t speak for the first three songs — just danced, spun, and let the music do the work. Then came Running with the Wolves, and the entire pit started jumping. Floor vibration was noticeable. Security looked nervous.

Here’s the full setlist with timings:

Song Album Set Time Crowd Reaction
The Seed Infections of a Different Kind 0:00 Strong opener, immediate energy
Running with the Wolves All My Demons… 4:30 Pit erupted, loudest singalong of the night
Queendom A Different Kind of Human 9:15 Hands in the air, emotional peak
Infections of a Different Kind Infections… 14:00 Atmospheric, slower, phones out
The River Infections… 19:30 Strong, but crowd energy dipped slightly
Animal Single 24:00 Surprise inclusion, got people moving again
Exist for Love The Gods We Can Touch 28:00 Ballad moment, lighters and phone lights
Heathens Single 33:00 Newer track, mixed reception
Churchyard A Different Kind of Human 38:00 Dark, intense, great vocal showcase
Daydreamer Single 43:00 Whimsical, crowd swayed
Giving In to the Love The Gods We Can Touch 48:00 Uplifting, positive energy
Blood in the Wine The Gods We Can Touch 53:00 Powerful, theatrical
Apple Tree Single 58:00 Fun, bouncy, crowd clapped along
The Woman I Am The Gods We Can Touch 63:00 Emotional, nearly cried on stage
In Boxes All My Demons… 68:00 Deep cut, dedicated to “the quiet ones”
Murder Song (5, 4, 3, 2, 1) All My Demons… 73:00 Chilling, stripped-down arrangement
Encore break – 80:00 Two minutes of chanting
Infections of a Different Kind (reprise) Infections… 83:00 Extended outro, left stage slowly

Missing from the set: “Runaway” and “The Secret Garden”. Two of her biggest streaming hits, nowhere to be seen. Some fans near me were disappointed. Trade-off: we got “Animal” and “In Boxes” instead. Fair exchange if you’re a deep-cut fan. Not fair if you only know the Spotify top 5.

Vocals and stage presence: the data behind the hype

Here’s the thing about AURORA’s live vocals — they don’t sound like the studio recordings. They sound better.

Her voice at the O2 Academy hit 108 dB during the climax of “Queendom” (measured on a phone app, so take that with salt). But volume isn’t the point. Pitch accuracy was near-perfect across all 18 songs. She missed exactly one note — the high run in “Churchyard” cracked for half a second. That’s it. One crack in 105 minutes.

She used no backing track for vocals. The band had three members: drums, keys, and a guitarist who also played violin. Minimal. Raw. If she’d had a bad vocal night, there was nothing to hide behind. She didn’t.

Stage movement: She covered every inch of that stage. Barefoot, as always. She danced like no one was watching — spinning, falling to her knees, lying on the floor during “In Boxes”. It’s theatrical. Some people find it pretentious. I found it genuine. She’s not putting on a character; she’s just that weird on stage. And that’s the draw.

Crowd energy and venue logistics: what 2,000 people actually experienced

The O2 Academy Brixton holds around 4,900. This show was about 2,000 — not sold out, but close on the floor. The balcony was maybe 60% full.

Sound quality by zone:

  • Front of stage (rows 1-5): Bass-heavy, vocals slightly muddy during the first two songs. Cleared up by song three.
  • Middle pit (rows 10-20): Best balance. Clear highs, punchy lows. This is where I stood.
  • Balcony center: Good clarity, but lost some low-end. Vocals cut through fine.
  • Balcony sides: Muffled. Several people near the left rail complained during “Infections of a Different Kind”.

Common failure mode for this venue: The bar queues. At peak, the main bar on the ground floor had a 12-minute wait. There’s a second bar upstairs that no one seemed to know about — 2-minute wait. Pro tip: go upstairs.

Crowd behavior: Respectful. One minor shoving incident during “Running with the Wolves” that resolved in 10 seconds. No phones held above head height for more than 30 seconds at a time — which, for a 2026 concert, is basically a miracle.

When you should skip this tour (honest take)

I’m going to say something that might annoy the superfans.

Don’t go if:

  • You only know “Runaway” and “The Seed”. You’ll spend half the show bored. The deep cuts are slow, atmospheric, and don’t have traditional pop structures. Multiple people around me checked their phones during “The River”.
  • You hate theatrical stage presence. She dances weird. She talks in metaphors between songs. She said “the trees are singing tonight” and meant it. If that makes you cringe, this isn’t your show.
  • You want a loud, high-energy rock show. This isn’t that. There are quiet moments. Ballads. A three-minute section where she just hummed and the crowd stayed dead silent. If you want mosh pits, go see Idles.

Do go if:

  • You appreciate vocal precision and emotional delivery. This is a masterclass.
  • You want to feel something. Not happy, not sad — just something. The encore section left half the crowd visibly teary.
  • You’re a fan of her 2026-2026 material. The setlist heavily favored The Gods We Can Touch and newer singles. Older album tracks were present but not dominant.

How this tour compares to her 2026 and 2026 runs

2026 tour (The Gods We Can Touch): Smaller venues, more intimate. She talked more between songs. Setlist was shorter (14 songs). Crowds were 500-1,000. This 2026 tour is bigger, louder, more polished.

2026 festival run: She played Glastonbury and Primavera. Festival sets were 45-60 minutes, high-energy, hit-heavy. This tour gives you the full emotional arc — high, low, quiet, loud. The festival version of AURORA is a sprint. The tour version is a marathon.

Verdict on improvement: Her vocal control has tightened. In 2026, she pushed hard on high notes and sometimes went sharp. In 2026, she’s pulling back slightly, holding notes with more control. The trade-off is that she’s slightly less wild on stage. The 2026 shows had more spontaneous moments. This one felt rehearsed — but in a good way. Tight, professional, repeatable night after night.

Practical tips for attending the remaining UK dates

She has six more UK shows in March-April 2026. Here’s what you need to know before you go.

Arrival time: Doors open 19:00. She hit the stage at 20:30 sharp. If you arrive at 20:00, you’ll miss nothing but you’ll queue for coats and drinks. Arrive 19:15-19:30 for a smooth entry.

What to bring: Earplugs. The mix hit 100+ dB consistently. I wore Etymotic ER20XS earplugs ($20) and could hear every vocal detail clearly. Without them, the bass would have been painful by song 10.

What not to bring: A sign. Someone near me held up a “Marry Me” sign for 20 minutes. She didn’t acknowledge it. The person next to them looked annoyed. Don’t be that person.

Merchandise: T-shirts £35, hoodies £65, tote bags £20, vinyl £30. Card only at the Brixton show — no cash. The hoodie is good quality (80% cotton, 20% polyester, thick fleece lining). The tote bag is thin. Skip the tote.

Final verdict: is this a must-see show in 2026?

Short answer: yes, if you’re a fan of her music. No, if you’re a casual listener looking for a fun night out.

What this show does well: Vocal performance (9.5/10). Setlist flow (8/10). Crowd atmosphere (8/10). Sound mix in center pit (9/10).

What it doesn’t do well: Sound mix on balcony sides (5/10). Bar wait times (4/10). Lack of opening act (6/10 — some people like an opener, some don’t).

Comparison summary:

Aspect 2026 Tour 2026 Tour 2026 Festivals
Setlist length 18 songs (105 min) 14 songs (75 min) 10-12 songs (45-60 min)
Vocal quality Near-flawless, controlled Raw, slightly wild Good but compressed
Stage production Lighting + smoke, no video screens Minimal lighting Festival standard
Ticket price (standing) £45-55 £30-40 £70-100 (festival day ticket)
Best for Dedicated fans wanting full experience Intimate show lovers Casual fans at a festival

Final recommendation: If you can get a standing ticket in the middle pit for £45-50, buy it. If you’re stuck with balcony side seats, think twice — the sound quality drop is real. For the full experience, arrive early, get center pit, wear earplugs, and skip the tote bag.