pop | Music Boats

Bellowhead live at O2 City Hall review – somehow still dancing
24
Mar

Bellowhead’s golden years as spearheads of an English folk revival may be well past them, but the strength of their blockbuster renderings of centuries-old tunes remained for an evening coloured by the recent passing of a founding member, Paul Sartin.

The farewell tour began in 2015. After 11 years as part of folk phenomenon Bellowhead, frontman Jon Boden had decided to call time on the project, wrapping up with a grand double tour of the country, culminating in an intimate return to Oxford Town Hall, where it all started for the band. Aged 13, I caught them in Harrogate alongside my mum on what would probably be my first and last gig in the provincial town, having been introduced to the band by a primary school teacher. I remember it was a lively one for such a grand and formal setting, but my residing memory was getting doused in red wine by a lady next to me whose hand-eye coordination was muddled by a combination of a little too much alcohol and one too many of Bellowhead’s stomping sea shanties. A one-off, final reunion came four years later and, like so many concerts that year, was limited to the form of a pay-to-watch video recording, which I lapped up nonetheless.

And yet, another two years later, the inimitable 11-piece are back for a final, very last, definitely-just-a-one-off reunion tour to mark the tenth anniversary of one of their most popular albums, Broadside. The band’s gradual demise seemed so drawn out that at last seeing them appear onstage more or less the same as they’ve always been was something of a shock. Settling down in the cramped folding seats was bearable given the promise of a final few numbers that would undoubtedly raise the audience out of their seats, even if the demographic seemed markedly older than the sort that might turn up at the City Hall to see Sigrid or Declan McKenna. Bellowhead’s music includes almost exclusively traditional tunes that have been passed down through many generations, and when it comes to danceable crowd pleasers it is only the real firecrackers that have passed the test of time. In the words of outstanding fiddle player and support act Sam Sweeney, “if you still have a jumper on after we’ve finished… you’re crazy.”

11-strong Bellowhead’s ability to stir up a crowd remains formidable

That said, the first half was naturally reserved for a selection of Bellowhead’s slightly more laid back tunes, even if it did start with a sequin-suited Sweeney performing a piercing bagpipe solo from atop a plinth. Stormy Byker Hill was a fitting opener with its references to the original coal mining days of Newcastle’s east end, but it along with a handful of other early numbers was severely limited by poor mixing which found Pete Flood’s booming kick drum drowning out a weak-sounding woodwind section. Things improved for Jack Lintel, a surprising but worthy inclusion in the set, with a scintillating three-way fiddle showdown rightly stirring up the crowd. Unapologetically pop-ish Betsy Baker remained one of the band’s finest numbers. A mawkish and clichéd love song it may be, but quite how the various accompanying melodies in the strings and woodwind overlap one another beneath the charming melody is undeniably very pretty indeed. Boden seemed to revel in that not-so-faint whiff of cheese, proudly professing his feelings for dear Betsy with hands held high and head tilted towards the sky before taking a seat in admiration of a particularly delightful instrumental section.

The evening’s main drawback was the fact this was a Broadside concert, and the material within the album in question had its limits. Increasingly I longed for more from Hedonism, Broadside‘s superior, best-selling predecessor (and an integral member of my mum’s modest car CD collection). That said, some of Broadside‘s deep cuts stood out, namely Black Beetle Pies, which might have been forgotten had Benji Fitzpatrick not appeared with a wearable xylophone, with Boden now belting the vocals through a loudspeaker. Thousands Or More was much more tender, and its well-delivered group vocals were one of the night’s most heart-warming moments. Elsewhere there were more questionable setlist decisions. Deservedly obscure Fine Sally over Desert Island Disc-worthy zinger Parson’s Farewell? Fakenham Fair over their disturbing, rousing take on Amsterdam? Cross-eyed and Chinless, a Hedonism standout as fun and memorable as its title was the most surprising and disappointing omission.

Personal gripes about setlist choices were totally irrelevant for the song at the heart of the evening, which was a tribute to one of the band’s most recognisable and founding members, Paul Sartin, who died suddenly in September. After a minute’s silence, Boden introduced a devastating recording of Sartin singing Brisk Lad alone, his baritone vocals stunningly clear and intimate, his words (“I am a brisk lad though my fortune is bad”) heavy with newly implied meaning. After a few verses the band joined with a tasteful accompaniment, ending united in unison a cappella. The entire assured performance of a song sang through many generations of the Sartin family was deeply moving. The spontaneous standing ovation continued well into the next song.

The audience stood throughout the show stopping finale

The transition almost immediately into merry fiddle-led jigs like Dockside Rant / Sailing on the Tide at first felt uneasy after such a heartfelt tribute, but as the crowd pleasers kept coming it became very difficult not to get swept away in the ensuing joy. It all culminated with a raucous one-two of old favourites New York Girls and a triumphant Frogs’ Legs and Dragons’ Teeth, by which point virtually the entire audience had been up off their seats and clapping along for a good 20 minutes. It would have been an even more joyous atmosphere had stewards not tightly policed the aisles, approaching revelers that were having too much fun dancing down the aisles. Quite why dancing was forbidden – surely an essential aspect of this form of old-fashioned dance music – was beyond me. Fortunately no such rules applied to the performers, and Sam Sweeney was particularly energetic, at one stage jumping around the pirate ship set with such enthusiasm he fell face first onto the deck, impressively only missing a few bars of fiddle playing. Lindsey Stirling would be impressed.

A dozen undoubtedly exhausting back-to-back shows into their tour and as many years playing the same set of uptempo winners, it was reassuring to see that Bellowhead still have the ability to ignite a frenzied ceilidh wherever they go (jobsworth stewards aside). Decades may have passed since their inception in Oxford, but there’s still no clear contender to fill their space in the English folk scene, and it seems likely to stay that way. Bellowhead, with their daring and vivid reinventions of old songs and their unusually large number of instrumentalists, are a one-of-a-kind, and the English folk resurgence they spawned alongside the likes of Kate Rusby and Laura Marling is already dwindling without them. Whether this tour really is a final reunion is now anyone’s guess, but in Newcastle Boden left us with a tantalising tease. “Perhaps we’ll see you again sometime,” he smirked, before hoisting up his fiddle one last time for a roof-raising final refrain. Whatever happens next to this wonderful band, I’m still not ready to see them go.

Cassia live at NUSU review – sunshine pop trio deserve more
18
Mar

Stuck in an under capacity students’ union and struggling to whip up excitement in the crowd, Cassia’s catalogue of uplifting indie pop tracks will have more successful airings than their trip to Newcastle. Patches of effervescent Mancunian calypso gave a taste of just how brilliant the trio could be.

Showing up to Newcastle University’s gloomy students’ union buildings an hour after doors opened for Cassia’s gig, the near silence on campus was a cause for concern. I had seen online earlier that there hadn’t even been enough ticket sales for the stocks to be marked as ‘low’ on the band’s website, and frontman Rob Ellis had taken to Instagram to remind any last fans in the city that there would indeed be plenty of tickets available on the door. After meeting friend Lily – who I hadn’t been to a gig with since the time we foolishly missed Wet Leg play as support act mere weeks before they became one of the biggest bands in the country – there were so few people we struggled to even find out where the actual venue was. Finding ourselves in an abandoned Co-op, I had to resort to asking a security guard for help.

Of course, there was little queueing when we did locate the venue, which turned out to be a rather uninspiring black box two storeys underground, with a barrier two metres in front of the stage ensuring there would be none of the can-practically-touch-them intimacy I love with small venues. A bar was plonked at the back and a large empty space out of view of the stage occupied one half of the room. There wasn’t even a glitterball. In fairness, the audience steadily grew as the night wore on, although not before two support acts had been and gone. For a relatively small band, you begin to hope that this tour will be financially worthwhile for the musicians.

It was a shame because Cassia produce the sort of joyful music that comes alive in front of a large, receptive audience. The band started out as a curiosity, selling themselves as a unique Mancunian calypso-pop band, bringing the carefree, sun-kissed sounds of the Caribbean home to the drizzly northwest. Since their easy-going debut Replica they’ve morphed into a more traditional indie pop boyband, delving into a trendy if somewhat overpopulated genre currently led by the likes of Foals and easy life. It’s true that in the process the band has lost a lot of their original flair and uniqueness, but the good news is that Cassia’s pop songs are often very solid with their litany of watertight hooks and lyrics that invariably look on the brighter side of life.

The current state of Cassia was well captured in set opener Drifting, a track that gently hummed away with its relaxed clean guitars and unobtrusive bass, plus a chorus good enough to get the handful of Cassia superfans at the front singing early. Do Right, with the typically heartening Cassia-esque lyric “do right and let the rest follow” at its centre, was even better but struggled to inspire much in a largely static crowd. Perhaps the fans were waiting for tracks from the latest album, but with Do Right‘s effortless vocalised hook and clattering cowbell, I found little to dislike in the song. Powerlines was less contentious thanks to Lou Cotteril’s muscular bassline that, amplified to concert volumes, resulted in a song one falsetto flourish from unadulterated funk. Ellis seemed to feel the funk too, launching into a quick guitar solo at the end and perhaps getting a little excited, tangling himself in knots with a fuzzy mess of indistinct twanging as he attempted a climax. The intricate instrumental jam section that followed offered a much better display of his skills, sounding pleasantly Parcels-like in his dexterity and tight connection with Cotteril.

A bit more of that spirit of experimentation would have helped add variety in a set where the band’s vast number easily digestible, upbeat pop songs slowly began to feel stale. Piano ballad Boundless was “Cassia’s one sad song” in Ellis’s words and was rolled out in Newcastle by necessity. Vaguely pretty and as inoffensive as the rest of the band’s tracks, it was inevitably talked over by the audience, although the delicate vocal harmonies were worth listening to. A mid-set slump promptly ensued. Cumbersomely titled 16-18 – Why You Lacking Energy? had potential on the album but fell flat in the flesh, Ellis’s scratchy guitar having none of the earthy bite that was required to help the track stand out from a set of smooth guitar pop. Other songs, like Dreams of My Past, might have gone by entirely unnoticed had Ellis not tried so hard to get the crowd somewhat involved, instructing us to clap along and throw our hands in the air at one point. As the band’s good tracks seemed to be running out and mid-track chatter amongst the crowd grew louder, Ellis asking “Newcastle, are we still there?” sounded perhaps more desperate than he’d intended.

Cassia built momentum towards the end of their set

The night wasn’t a complete lost cause, however, and the solution to the dullness turned out to be a return to Cassia’s calypso roots – exactly what separates Cassia from the mass of the UK’s other radio-friendly pop boybands. Moana, the band’s 2016 debut single, landed like a breath of fresh air, Ellis’s acrobatic guitar riffs as cheerful as morning birdsong over Jacob Leff’s gently simmering cauldron of bongos. The harmonies on the chorus were gorgeous and Cotterill’s energetic bassline was finally getting the crowd moving. Within seconds, teens clutching empty beer cups were aloft on the shoulders of friends, much to the disapproval of party pooping venue security staff. An exciting percussion break gradually introduced the delightful reggaeton of Small Spaces, perhaps early Cassia at their compositional finest. All of a sudden, keeping both feet still on the ground was very difficult indeed.

Momentum continued to build for a very strong finish. Right There, objectively the best of the pop side of Cassia’s discography, was given the late billing it deserved, and at last Ellis didn’t seem to have to try hard to get the room singing along for the song’s final build. The breakout hit 100 Times Over rounded off the evening and at last found a sweet spot neatly between calypso and pop. A song that I have returned to again and again over the years as a sure-fire mood booster, the effect was magnified in person, filling the room with very happy young music fans dancing the night away. “Freedom, it is all around me / Get up, sit down,” we sang together, hand gesturing accordingly. No Cassia song leaves quite the same residual feeling of joy as 100 Times Over, regardless of where you’re listening to it.

“Goodnight Newcastle, you’ve been unreal,” Ellis told us before skipping off stage with his bandmates. Had we, really? The trio had indeed figured out how to appease the NUSU crowd for the final fifteen minutes, but for much of the night Ellis’s showmanship had been tested, resulting in plenty of forced “make some noise” and “how we feeling?” moments that felt a little grating. True, it was a tough crowd, but some greater variety in the set list – some sort of meaningful way to break up the glut of samey mid-tempo pop songs – would have helped the show progress a little less precariously. Sunshine pop is all well and good, but unless the genre is absolutely nailed, a wider range of emotion is needed to add some more interest. A bigger, fuller, less utterly lifeless venue would help too. At the very least, next time they ought to book somewhere with a glitterball.

Sigrid live at O2 City Hall review – uninhibited pop joy
12
Mar

Bursting onto stage with trademark energy and buckets of charisma, when Sigrid found her stride in Newcastle she had the place well and truly bouncing. It was the more tender numbers that needed the most refinement.

Since arriving in the city two months ago, I’ve learnt one thing: Newcastle loves football. Walking through town on a Wednesday evening I soon found myself fighting against a thick swarm of many thousands of black and white shirts, bypassing overflowing pubs and cars plonked onto pavements presumably by fans who concluded the parking wardens must be going to the game too. It seemed a fair assumption, given that everywhere else outside the immediate vicinity of St. James’ Park was so eerily quiet. Even the streets leading up to O2 City Hall that I remembered had been so packed with punters when Declan McKenna was in town had no queue to speak of, and I breezed through the security and tickets checks in a matter of seconds. Inside I found what seemed to be the remaining few Geordies that had managed to pry themselves away from a Newcastle United home fixture for the sake of their chosen popstar. An hour before the evening’s two events took place, that crowd of outliers numbered only a few hundred.

Sigrid may not have been the biggest act in town, but sure enough the O2 City Hall filled up nicely as support act Tommy LeFroy’s set came and went. Like her Norwegian peer AURORA, Sigrid has found a second home over here in the UK, and a string of feel-good hits in recent years has earned her regular appearances in the UK Top 40 and popular repeat appearances at many of Britain’s biggest summer festivals. Where AURORA is an artsy and occasionally experimental Björk descendent, Sigrid deals squarely with no-nonsense, party-ready pop hits. At her best, her exuberant hooks and uplifting lyrical themes of love and self acceptance are easily good enough to overcome any need for added profundity; any critic who listens to sure fire pop bangers Strangers or Mirror and bemoans a lack of lyrical depth needs to go out more.

A huge part of what makes Sigrid such dynamite at those summer concerts is her radiant stage presence. Never one to stand still, her renowned tirelessness was in full display at Newcastle as she skipped from one side of the stage to the other, hopping on and off monitor speakers and boogieing alongside bandmates with more hip movement than a Strictly final. Her connection to the audience was ever present, often dishing out knowing winks or discreet waves mid-verse to specific concertgoers, invariably triggering an adorable little forest of arms vigorously waving back in the dizzying excitement of being looked in the eyes by Queen Sigrid. The result was a lovely, congenial atmosphere in the City Hall, as if the universally liked friend had gone up in karaoke to sing our favourite tunes along with us.

And, as karaoke singers go, Sigrid turns out to be a pretty great one. She was already belting out an unscripted high note in punchy opener It Gets Dark, her voice piercing and crystal clear, with a well judged hint of grit when the soaring melodies demanded it. Early highlight Mistake Like You also provided an example of Sigrid’s vocals at their genre-leading best, and a dynamic performance from her backing band helped elevate the ballad well beyond its lacklustre studio recording. By far most extraordinary aspect of Sigrid’s performance was how well she managed to keep the standard of vocals so consistently strong in spite of all her onstage athletics. Attempting to sing along to the hits whilst bouncing along in the crowd, I can vouch that breath control like that takes serious skill, and far from all popstars possess it.

It helped too that Sigrid’s band are not your typical karaoke backing track, and clever edits often turned good songs into great ones. A deserved reprise of It Gets Dark‘s deliciously scratchy guitar solo gave guitarist Sondre Berg Abrahamsen – who spent much of the night humbly lurking in the shadows of stage left – a few more glorious seconds to twiddle away till his heart’s content, and the crowd rightly lapped it up. Burning Bridges, the finest example of Sigrid’s punchy, 80s-hinting brand of pop, had an even more surprising edit with a new outro driven by a pummelling techno synth. A track blessed with an anthemic chorus and a sensational strings melody, placing Burning Bridges at track two of the evening set a very high bar that was never quite overcome for the remainder of the show.

Sigrid took to the piano for a selection of acoustic ballads

Her opening numbers may have been a bit too good for her own good, but the momentum was never completely lost. Even the piano ballads at the show’s heart offered a nice change of pace, and Sigrid’s choice to accompany herself on piano, alone under the spotlight, added a degree of drama and earnestness on a night of straightforward pop earworms. Dynamite was poignant but a simplified piano part made it rather unmemorable, and follow up three-chorder Bad Life lacked any of the songwriting or lyrical quality necessary to stand up to the scrutiny of the solo piano treatment. Drab and trite throughout, the song remains easily her most overrated. The inclusion of Bring Me the Horizon’s clichéd pop punk guitars found on the original would at least have added an iota of interest. Unremarkable Dancer followed and lacked an emotional climax for it to stand out amongst the pack of similar pop songs. Sucker Punch was more warmly greeted by fans but – let’s admit it – its verse, with its bumbling, unintentionally comical synth bass and cheap-feeling drum machine, already feels hopelessly dated. Perhaps the song belongs to an era of pop that sounds deeply uncool now but will be in vogue once the early 2010s sound begins to be considered ‘retro’, but, listening in the year 2022, something about Sucker Punch just doesn’t quite work.

Luckily there was still plenty of safer hits in Sigrid’s locker to deploy in a breathless final few tracks. Don’t Feel Like Crying was a quintessential Sigridian self empowerment anthem and surely a direct offspring of Call Me Maybe with its sprightly strings chords. Old faithful Strangers was improved further with some monumental fills from Kasper Waag, who was enjoying his best moments of an outstanding overall performance behind the drum kit. Even relatively unknown encore track Grow was a success, serving as Sigrid’s most affecting love song by far. “Take me anywhere… I’m home,” we sang together softly under the light of our own phone torches, Sigrid’s hips no longer gyrating but instead swaying gently to the reassuring lilt of the acoustic guitar. Basking in the warm glow emanating from behind Sigrid, the only disappointment was that the ballad had to eventually draw to a close.

Unquestionably the song of her career so far, flawless pop smash Mirror was the only choice for the evening’s set closer. “I love who I see looking at me in the mirror” was Sigrid’s simple but effective self love philosophy distilled into the perfect chorus hook, and a wonderfully uplifting mantra to live by. Unfathomably still with plenty of dancing energy left in the tank, Sigird’s passion had those in the stalls jumping up from their seats and bobbing along with the rest of us amidst a dazzling multicolour light show.

Mirror marked a triumphant finish to a somewhat imbalanced performance. Nonetheless, the buzz of deeply satisfied fans in the room after Sigrid had left the stage was heart-warming. Squeezing onto a packed double decker on my journey home was one of the more brutal returns to reality after a gig I’ve experienced. Thickly-woollened men thoughtfully discussed why exactly Miguel Almiron didn’t take that penalty whilst scantily clad young women loudly replayed endless recordings of the Sigrid back catalogue on their phones. So, which was the more fulfilling occasion, an uplifting night dancing the world away to the tune of rejuvenating self affirmation or a 0-0 draw with Crystal Palace? For me, it’s a no-brainer.

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.

Dua Lipa live at first direct Arena review – a flamboyant new queen of British pop
20
May

No expense was spared on the Leeds leg of Dua Lipa’s victorious world tour, after 2020’s Future Nostalgia changed the face of modern pop. With slick transitions and memorable visuals, this was a performance dense with bona fide pop smashes and jaw-droppingly theatrical highlights.

Rocking up in central Leeds in a group of five friends poorly dressed to spend any significant period of time outside on a disappointingly cold Easter Monday, there was a moment on approaching a T-junction in paths that we had no idea exactly in which direction Dua Lipa was gearing up for an arena concert. Already beginning to shiver, we decided we might as well pick a stranger and follow them through a nearby underpass. Soon enough, the stream of punters became a river and then a torrent, with crowds in the 100 metre viscinity of the first direct Arena more akin to what I’d expect ten minutes after a gig, rather than 3 hours before it. It may have only been half past six, but we wasted no time grabbing drinks and finding a spot amongst a crowd buzzing with anticipation.

The truth is, that night it would have been a challenge to find someone walking through that northern corner of Leeds that didn’t have 70-odd quid’s worth of arena ticketing stashed in their wallet. An antithesis to Jeff Rosenstock in every way, Dua Lipa has been vying for chart-topping mainstream appeal for years now, and she’s frequently been granted her wish, garnering millions of fans worldwide. Her latest album, Future Nostalgia, is packed full of the sort of hits that manage to infiltrate the consciousness of virtually everyone in society. Even if you think you don’t know mind-blowingly successful smashes like Don’t Start Now or Levitating, trust me, you do.

What was new with Future Nostalgia was the wave of critical acclaim that came with the endless radio play. The album was bold in its unapologetic support of what I like to call the ’20s disco revival; a stylistic shift towards retro styles in contemporary pop music that is generally deemed to be a result of the dancefloor-yearning brought on by the pandemic. Giant names like The Weeknd, Doja Cat and even Kylie Minogue are all in on it, although whether the new world of modern disco-pop will survive now the society is opening back up again remains to be seen. Nevertheless, Lipa continues to position herself as the movement’s flagbearer, adopting an 80s-inspired public image whilst digging deep into the realm of slap bass lines and superfluous glitterballs.

To that end, me and my friends Emma and Hattie had to crane our heads towards the distant roof of the arena on entering to tot up the evening’s glitterball count: a somewhat underwhelming three (and, once they had been lowered during the performance, they turned out to be more like cheap-looking shiny balloons). The no-doubt immense budget for the Future Nostalgia Tour had clearly been utilised in other aspects of the show, not least a dozen-stong dance troupe that bounced and boogied their way around Lipa all night. Lipa is of course a great dancer in her own right, and the sheer amount of moves and she memorised and pulled off for the performance was impressive. For her, it was mostly a case of ticking off all the things arena-sized pop divas are supposed to do: we got Dua playing with a sparkly cane or Dua throwing poses behind a morphing wall of umbrellas or Dua being carried face-up across the stage in the middle of a verse, singing all the while. She may lack some choreographic originality, but that’s not to say she wasn’t convincing. The astounded crowd around me fumbled for their iPhone cameras whenever Lipa so much as flicked a gloved finger in our direction. On occasions when Lipa responded to the cameras and flashlights with a brief smile, the screams almost drowned out the music.

Physical, Lipa’s gleefully self-aware pastiche of Olivia Newton-John’s 1981 hit of the same name, was an excellent choice of opener and a statement of intent, with lines like “baby, keep on dancing like we ain’t got a choice” finding a match with zumba class-ready dance moves. An early onslaught of Future Nostalgia bangers ensued, finding a highlight in Break My Heart, Lipa’s most whole-heartedly disco number. The glitterballs remained dormant, but instead a dense web of tiny spheres descended above Lipa and her dance crew, pulsing with colour in time with the shimmering rhythm guitar and chest-rattling bass line. Then there was the unbelievably funky Pretty Please, plus groovy midtempo hit Cool, during which Lipa was joined by a pair of dancers on rollerskates, each encircling her and beaming from ear to ear. They got one of the loudest applauses of the night when they stole Lipa’s spotlight for a moment to perform a few somersaults and headstands on the well-implemented satellite stage.

If the rollerskaters weren’t Eurovision enough, We’re Good – a dubious inclusion at the best of times – featured a cameo from a giant inflatable lobster for reasons that never quite became clear. It seems that money to spare can occasionally work out as a hindrance rather than a benefit for shows like these. Early hit IDGAF, here demoted to We’re Good‘s introduction as a 30-second snippet, would have been both much more sensible and much more effective, with or without a lobster.

Somewhat trite strings ballad Boys Will Be Boys gave the night some necessary breathing space, although I’ll admit I was relieved when Lipa got seemingly impatient and threw in synths and a thumping electronic kick drum two choruses in. A slew of Lipa’s biggest dance hits followed and, having reserved all my excitement for Lipa’s pop and disco songs, I was pleasantly surprised at just how compelling the segment turned out to be. It helped that Lipa and her troupe had ventured out onto the satellite stage once more, surrounded by the crowd and seemingly caged up thanks to clever lighting and a metal rig that had descended from the ceiling. The claustrophobia suited songs like Electricity and One Kiss, which now sounded perfect for a gloomy, body-filled nightclub. Extended remixes allowed for more dancing, more energy and more outfit changes, with Lipa switching from one glitzy leotard to another just as one global number one hit blended seemlessly with the next global number one hit. I could have danced to that handful of songs long into the night.

A lighting rig descended for an intimate dance music segment

I spent a majority of the night in giddy anticipation of awarding Undertone‘s second ever five-star gig rating, so I was a little disappointed when Lipa eventually started to lose her momentum in the final third of the concert. Future Nostalgia bonus track Fever was a poor set list choice over Blow Your Mind (Mwah), particularly becuase it entailed a pre-recorded feature from Belgian popstar Angèle on the big screen. Elton John was similarly featured on tribute track Cold Heart, but I remained unconvinced by the song’s lack of fresh ideas whilst Lipa and the troupe attempted a tear-jerking end-of-gig group hug.

Electrifying Levitating and Don’t Start Now – surely two of the most monumental (and musically flawless) pop songs of the decade – were rightly saved for the encore, before confetti cannons cued Lipa’s theatrical disappearance into the stage, mid-pout. Lipa aptly took to a platform and floated around the arena for Levitating, leaning against the railings and waving down at the adoring crowd in a third, figure-hugging catsuit. Now unavoidably, we had been reduced to peasants bowing down to our queen of pop as she purveyed her subjects. She had every right to, after all: no popstar in Britain today quite has the global reach or the dense catalogue of hits currently in Lipa’s possession. With all the flabbergasting showbiz glitz and glamour of the Future Nostalgia Tour, she has ensured a firm grip on the crown for many years to come.

Lizzy McAlpine: five seconds flat review – indie-folk star raises the stakes
15
Apr

She may be yet to firmly establish her own distinctive sound, but Lizzy McAlpine strikes gold on several occasions on this sophomore LP destined to be one of the more compelling and consistent breakup albums of the year.

There’s a remarkable moment about seven minutes into Lizzy McAlpine’s second album, five seconds flat. After two verses and choruses with building menace, a bridge sees McAlpine’s belted vocals almost entirely consumed by a pair of battling, distorted synth lines that switch violently from one ear to the other and back again. Supported by the throb of an electronic kick drum and a gunshot-like snare sound, the result is a gutsy minute or two of industrial-leaning electronic music before McAlpine takes back control by way of an acoustic guitar breakdown, bringing the various musical strands of the masterful erase me back together for the big denouement. This meshing of acoustic and electronic instrumentation – often considered risky or plainly wrong by much of the modern pop industry – is totally uncharted territory for McAlpine, an artist much more used to the comfortable, folk constraints of an acoustic guitar and perhaps the occasional upright piano. Take her excellent 2021 project, When The World Stopped Moving, which unpacked the global trauma of the pandemic with intimate, acoustic solo recordings, putting a spotlight on McAlpine’s outstanding vocal ability in the process. To hear just a few moments of her now delving into electronic pop with such spectacular results is hugely promising.

Elsewhere on the singer-songwriter’s sophomore effort there are plenty more surprises to enjoy. all my ghosts, for instance, finds itself wading deeper and deeper into indie rock territory as the song progresses, culminating in a spectacular final minute. The saccarine sentimentalism of McAlpine’s debut album still lingers (“You got a Slurpee for free / I caught you lookin’ at me in the 7-Eleven”), but this time its accompanied by musical fireworks by way of sparkling performance from McAlpine’s band. By contrast, an ego thing‘s quirky minimalism wouldn’t sound out of place on a Billie Eilish record, with Eilish’s uncomfortably close ASMR whispers traded for McAlpine’s bell-clear, Broadway-ready vocals.

Besides showcasing risks that McAlpine’s debut album so sorely lacked, five seconds flat excels as an album clearly thought out and smartly executed. Halloween themes are established by stark opener doomsday and crop up throughout the following 13 tracks. It’s a strong, excellently produced opener, although the obvious extended funeral metaphor for the breakup in question comes across as somewhat lazy. The driving metaphor of reckless driving is even more laboured and uninspired (“Would you hold me when we crash or would you let me go?”), but an exciting crescendo to finish before a abrupt finish (presumably the car crash in question) partly saves the song.

Spacey follow-up weird feels appropriately like an exploration of the afterlife, and the intimate vocals and distant percussion and guitars lend it the same vaguely comforting feeling of a Phoebe Bridgers song with slightly less poetic lyrics. ceilings is a much better display of McAlpine’s lyrical ability, describing an idyllic young love that turns out to be entirely imaginary by the time we reach a devastating final chorus. The country-tinged instrumentation – complete with a beautiful strings arrangement – is utterly gorgeous, and McAlpine’s delicately sung melody floats above it all like a butterfly. Compositionally, it may be the least ambitious moment on the whole album, but it also happens to be one of the most exquisite acoustic ballads McAlpine has ever written – and she’s written many.

Just when the album begins to get a little emotionally heavy, McAlpine hits us with firearm, a power pop left hook that attempts the success of similar recent attempts at noisy rock from both Eilish and Bridgers. five seconds flat‘s rock moment is not quite as explosive or expansive as Happier Than Ever or I Know The End, but it does still pack a punch, with McAlpine at one point asking whether a breakup was over “fame or the lack thereof”, having been convinced that she was loved. As McAlpine returns to her usual acoustic guitar moments later, there’s a sense that the pure anger just showcased hasn’t gone away completely but has rather been bottled back up inside her, ready to be unleashed again whenever she sees fit. I can only hope McAlpine lets her inner anger out more often on future releases.

nobody likes a secret and chemtrails are much less stylistically interesting, but the latter is a particularly heartbreaking elegy to McAlpine’s father. “I see chemtrails in the sky, but I don’t see the plane,” McAlpine sings poignantly, reflecting on the impact her father has made on her, even after his passing. Wistful home audio recordings close the track, and the goofy “goodnight!” from a young Lizzy feels like a more permanent goodbye. Fast-pased indie pop track orange show speedway ends the album nicely, suitably restrained in its cheeriness in the wake of chemtrails.

Looking back on the album in its entirety, McAlpine’s musical style is consitently interesting and varied, almost to a fault. We are yet to hear McAlpine’s definitive sound or hear much to distinguish her from the plethora of similar female American singer-songwriters. That said, this female American singer-songwriter is producing more impressive songs than most, and the sharp stylistic shifts and attention-grabbing production decisions that crop up throughout five seconds flat deserve plenty of praise. Her full potential hasn’t quite been realised yet, but judging by her current forward momentum it won’t be long until McAlpine is producing records even more exciting than this one.

Cory Wong live at Manchester Academy review – utterly tireless
1
Apr

On his first post-pandemic UK performance the prolific funk guitarist aptly delivered a vast amount of music with flair, showmanship and boundless enthusiasm. A strong entourage of improvisers helped compensate for weak songwriting on a night when objective critique became difficult.

Perhaps I haven’t learnt my lesson. Just like a few weeks ago, I found myself sitting in a Mancunian branch of McDonald’s with a familiar posse of friends, fuelling up before another gig for an artist I’ve never quite been convinced by. I didn’t realise it at the time, but I should have seen a potential repeat of my middling experience with Samm Henshaw coming from a mile off.

One thing that I was certain of was that Cory Wong would give us a proper show and a proper horns section (Matt did well to spot the saxophone on stage ahead of time). The rubber wristed guitarist doesn’t seem to do anything but perform, be it on one of his extensive UK and US tours or on his own high-budget YouTube talk show. He’s already got a staggering six live albums under his belt (plus a not-too-shabby 12 studio albums). To keep this man away from any sizable venue for longer than six months – let alone the nigh-on three year gap since his last visit to Manchester – is no mean feat. Such a massive output of songs makes it hard to keep on top of it all even from a listener’s perspective, and even the most eager Wong fans amongst my friends happily admitted that listening to every Wong album was a level of commitment they were not quite prepared for. Picking out songs to watch for was made doubly hard by the fact Wong is such a frequent collaborator – standout tracks Golden and Cosmic Sans required surprise appearances from Cody Fry and Tom Misch which, despite our crossed fingers, never quite came to fruition.

There was nonetheless a strong lineup in support of Wong in the uninspiring black box of Manchester Academy. Kevin Gastonguay, for instance, was a machine both on his Nord keyboard and Hammond B3, his improvisations often adding a pleasant touch of adventurous jazz fusion to the set. Petar Janjic was also a standout performer on drums, delivering thunderous solos occasionally followed by a triumphant flip of the sticks or a knowing smile to Wong. Then there was saxophonist and former BBC Young Jazz Musician of the Year Alexander Bone (Wong claimed he was a local to the crowd’s delight, but after a bit of research I’m not so sure), the best of a three-part horn section. His solos steered clear of showy high notes of rapid passages, instead offering tastefully controlled builds that melded well with Wong’s compositions.

Wong himself, model-like with his pearly whites and showbiz suit that nicely matched his signature stratocaster, of course provided an impeccable performance on guitar, refusing to stop moving on even his softer, calmer tracks. His solos tended to be the most expansive and often headed for scratchy classic rock finales before slick transitions back to rhythm guitar playing. Home and Meditation were some of the more spectacular slow burners, even if the material Wong was basing his solos on was rarely particularly compelling.

Therein lies the problem with Wong’s music: attempting to put the texture-building discipline of rhythm guitar front and centre is a challenge he has never quite lived up to. Too often his guitar hooks are colourless and repetitive (take Lilypad for example) and his funk-by-numbers grooves tend to have few defining features. Often it took a standout performance from the rest of the band for the show to reach its best moments. Frenzied Assassin, for instance, was an exciting listen impressively performed by Bone, but tellingly a tune which saw Wong’s guitar sit behind the more interesting horns section. St. Paul was another highlight that nicely showed off just how unbelievably tight the rhythm section was, with its razor sharp stops and showstopping drum fills. Gastonguay’s bluesy piano solo was also one of the best of the evening. On no song did it feel like the band had even a frissen of sloppiness – this was funk at its most crystal clean, and the level of sheer talent onstage was dazzling.

Screeching guitar solos often had Wong squirming

The gig’s biggest challenge was just how long it was. In typical Wong style, we were dealt well over two hours of funk, which got tiring even despite the interval. The show wasn’t completely without light and shade, but much of the runtime was spent with so-so funk numbers that had a tendency to merge into one. It was all easy listening, but such a long show demanded a little more variety. Perhaps a solo number from Wong might have been what the evening needed; that or a larger selection of sure-fire hits, which Wong seems to be lacking, at least without the support of a surprise guest vocalist. What was impressive was just how well Wong and his band maintained their high-energy displays of musicianship. Never did it feel like any single player was tiring throughout the night, and Wong bounced around like an excited toddler both at the very beginning and very end of the performance.

I found myself struggling as the show grew to its finish, but not just due to my reservations about Wong’s performance. I was feeling increasingly ill and in need of water, and my nausea fuelled panic which fuelled more nausea. Once Wong had finished a particularly lengthy-seeming song I shouted an explanation over the loud applause in my friend Manon’s ear and queasily made my way to the bar, hands beginning to tingle.

Sitting on the floor in the nicely chilled foyer with a pint of water beside me I felt some relief, although I was missing the entire climax of Wong’s set. It took fifteen minutes and a familiar song to get me back on my feet and to the back of the crowd. If there was a bass line that could cure any ailment it would be that of Dean Town, a Vulfpeck cult classic and the ultimate crowd-pleasing set closer. I was a little sad as I watched the tune come and go from a distance, the audience singing the through-composed bass line note by note as is Vulfpeck tradition. It should have been an ecstatic highlight. Instead I was glad it was time to head home.

The crowd was jubilant as Wong and his band performed Dean Town at the end of the set

My aim is to keep my overall criticisms on Undertone as objective as possible, and I’m trying my best to ignore my minor illness on the night when I say that Cory Wong’s show genuinely won’t go down as one of my all-time favourites. The musical ability was undeniable, but more compelling songwriting and a much more concise set were needed if I was to have any hope of ignoring the increasing unease in my stomach. I can see why the crowd around me (and my friends in particular) seemed to love every second of it, but for me this night was one that will live in the memory for mostly the wrong reasons.

Undertone’s artists to watch for 2022
7
Jan

It’s been a great year here on Undertone. Now that 2021’s recaps are all complete, Alex Walden is here to guide us through the artists ready to take 2022 by storm.

It’s that time of year again. We’re all taking down our Christmas decorations and gearing up for the next year. Congratulations on making it through another year. This past year was a crazy one for music. We saw the return of some greats including J. Cole, Drake, Kanye West and, for the first time in 6 years, Adele. Yet, despite these amazing artists coming back, what can’t be ignored is the impact that the new wave has had on this year. Artists such as Jack Harlow, Lil Nas X and Doja Cat have managed to show us that the new wave of talent is here to stay and that the idea of artists coming and going is a thing of the past. There were also some new artists on the scene last year have still got room to grow. To that end, I present to you my top picks of artists to watch out for this year. Whether these artists will blow up this year remains to be seen, but these artists are currently very underrated and their careers far from finished.

Coshise

We’re kicking things off with a solid choice from Florida’s own Cochise. Originally from Jamacia, Cochise moved to Florida when he was young. It was there he would learn to play drums for his church choir as well playing soccer in his spare time. Upon discovering hip hop, Cochise started making music in college whilst trying to become a teacher in Japan until suddenly his songs blew up all over social media to the point where people had begun to leak his songs. Don’t get me wrong, leaking music is 100% wrong. Having said that, I was even more excited for the release of his hit song Tell Em after hearing the leaked snippet of the song. Clearly, I wasn’t the only one thinking like this, considering that the snippet had managed to gain so much hype that upon its release Cochise (and featuring artist $not) managed to bag themselves a music video from none other than the Quentin Tarantino of new wave music videos, Cole Bennet, who published the video on his Lyrical Lemonade channel. The song Tell Em is undoubtably one of the best upbeat tracks of last year. It features all the necessary ingredients for a perfect song to get you hyped up, with prominent use of 808s, a memorable hook and a smooth melody. Cochise has managed to find the perfect balance of hip-hop, trap and dancehall and has managed to infuse into his tracks to create a new psychedelic sound which will definitely serve him well in 2022.

VANO 3000

Next up is a choice that I know all my producers can get behind. VANO 3000 has repeatedly shown off his skills when it comes to finding and flipping samples. I originally discovered VANO 3000 very early this year when he posted clips of him and his friend flipping samples in his old truck. I remember falling in love with the vibe of watching two people just mess around on an old SP303 and have fun while seeing what they could come up with. VANO’s sounds always come with an extra dosage of good vibes which became widely recognised during last summer when VANO flipped a sample of BADBADNOTGOOD, which began to spread all over TikTok rapidly. The sound managed to bring a huge wave of nostalgia across adults and teens on the platform, and thus the Adult Swim trend was born. There are currently over 654,000 videos on Tik Tok alone of people using VANO 3000’s sound to bring their own version of Adult Swim bumps. This quickly became arguably the biggest trend on the social media platform, considering that I was seeing these kinds of videos on all of my social media, not just TikTok.

As of now, VANO has since released a fully polished instrumental of the Adult Swim sound as well as a couple beat tapes here and there. Looking at his social media, it appears that he thinks that his best bet at striking it big again is to make another track to bring back the Adult Swim trend which if I’m honest, I don’t see it working out because the only downside of this new age of the internet is that trends die out just as quick as they rise on social media, but I could be wrong. As far as his albums go, I find myself listening to TMS 2.0 often in my spare time. I look forward to seeing to what this man has in store for us next, considering I can never turn down a good sample flip.

Ryan Librada

Up next, we have probably the smallest artist I have on this list, giving a whole mix of sounds ranging from lo-fi to rock, Nevada’s own Ryan Librada is sure to go far in the future. Being a skater myself, I discovered Ryan on the YouTube channel Luis Mora, a cameraman and filmaker for the Erasedxproject clothing brand and skate crew. With over 1.56 million subscribers at the time of writing this piece, it’s safe to say that his work speaks for itself. The way he uses only one or two songs for a back in track for his videos is a great way to discover new tracks. I first heard the song RENO by Librada on a Tokyo night street skating edit. The song gives you a typical chilled out lo-fi vibe, yet it’s not like any lo-fi song you’ve heard before. It has a more upbeat feel to it when you add in the lyrics and drum style.

After this I began discovering songs such as Love Again and Down Bad and I couldn’t get enough of them. The 2010s rock guitar riffs mixed in with the modern trap drums puts an amazing spin on a genre I hold very dear to my heart. It took me back to my younger days when I would discover new songs from skate games I used to play.

Considering that Ryan Librada started making music just last year, it’s very clear that he’s not reached his peak yet, there’s a lot of potential that he is yet to discover, and it does show sometimes in his work, although I doubt that it will take long considering that every song he makes somehow improves in overall quality. I’m definitely excited to see what heights this artist can reach in the foreseeable future.

PinkPantheress

Let’s face it, you knew she was eventually going to be on this list. PinkPantheress has already been able to master the art of building a fanbase that desperately craves more of her short yet snappy style of music (let’s not forget that classic overly enthusiastic “hey” that we all love). Despite having previously written about her, she’s still making big progress as an artist. Since the release of her debut EP, PinkPantheress has had multiple interviews, including one with the internet’s busiest music nerd himself, Anthony Fantano, as well as the company Complex. Despite these major events, they are minor compared to the fact that she has also embarked on her first three live performances. Located in London, PinkPantheress decided to have three relatively small performances following the release of her EP. In her interview with Complex, she explains that she decided to choose to perform in relatively small venues due her thinking “it’s important to do intimate shows before you move on to the bigger ones. It’s a completely different atmosphere at smaller shows”. Clearly PinkPantheress knows to take things slow to ensure she doesn’t end up becoming one of those artists that just come and go. I still think that she is the biggest “what if?” artist of this year. She has the potential to bring a new wave of sound to mainstream media, yet there’s still that huge “what if?”: what if she doesn’t capitalise on her newfound fame?; what if this is her peak and she quickly fades out of the spotlight? Despite the suspense of her future as an artist, we can guarantee that she is bound to release very highly anticipated work in the near future.

Knucks

Finally, we stick to the UK for this artist. There’s always the ongoing debate about whether hip hop as a genre is nowhere near as good as it used to be. (I find this debate extremely annoying as all you’re doing by saying that is proving that you listen to the wrong music). In the UK this debate still rages on as the mainstream trap genre of UK rap has a heavy grip on the UK scene. However, one artist who definitely challenges this whole concept is Knucks. Hailing from North London, Knucks is easily becoming the biggest rapper you should know about. It’s honestly rare that I find an artist that is this talented that isn’t absolutely huge yet. I remember one day looking for new songs to add to one of my playlists when by luck, I stumbled upon Knucks’ single, Los Pollos Hermanos. I was amazed by how well this man was able to flow upon a beat. It sounded almost effortless, as if he was gliding upon the beat. After a couple listens, I quickly became intrigued as to what else Knucks could come up with, to which I found his album, NRG 105. I was amazed at how amazing this project sounded coming from an artist so small. The majority of songs on this project don’t even have over a million streams on Spotify yet they deserve so much more. However, one song sticks out from all the rest. With over 15 million streams as well as 9 million views on YouTube, Kucks’ shows off his storytelling and incredible flow on his hit track Home. With tag lines such as “can’t you see London’s burning, and you can’t duck this smoke” which will definitely be stuck in your head, as well as an amazing use of instruments ranging from pianos to saxophone, Home shows that Knucks is destined to become a force to be reckoned with in the UK scene. Considering that Knucks already has two albums and multiple singles under his belt, there’s not really much else you can ask him to perfect his craft even more. Honestly, I think Knucks has potential to make it mainstream as long as he keeps it consistent, he’s bound to go far this year.

So there you have it: five artists you should definitely look out for in 2022. Whether it’s that post punk era sound you’ve been missing for years or that fresh new flip of an old soul sample, I hope these artists give you the joy of listening to someone new that I experienced. Who knows who or what we’ll discover this year? As I’ve shown, this year I was introduced and re-introduced to multiple new sounds and genres that I’m glad to have found. Regardless of what happens, we can always assure that in the world of music, we’ll end up with a pretty good result.