My 20 best gigs of 2024
Apparently the best gigs this year have been by Taylor Swift, Nick Cave and Bruce Springsteen. Apparently. Or ... not. No, despite people whittering on about these musical bores - fuelled by massive PR operations and complicit music journalists - these were surely some of the worst live musical experiences on offer (for a hefty price) during 2024. No man, we don't go down that dull road here at Niluccio on noise (we've got our own dull roads). Anyway, here, without further ado, are the 20 gigs that stood out for me during this heavily fucked-up year. There were quite a few other good ones as well and I've also got one or two extra things coming up before year-end, but, well, let's call these the best (it's all massively arbitrary anyway). Check 'em out ...
Mark Wastell, Daniel Thompson & Colin Webster: Hundred Years Gallery, London, 21 January
First time back at HYG in ages (not quite 100 years, but a while) and it was completely unchanged. A smattering of people (around 15) in the upstairs bar who then diligently filed downstairs (some of them) to take their seats for the show. The HYG repeatedly pulls off these low-attendance/high-quality gigs. Here, percussionist Mark Wastell shook, scraped, dropped and banged things, while guitarist Daniel Thompson played fractured guitar chords as tenor saxophonist Colin Webster squirted out sax. Intense and rather amazing stuff (check it out here). One nice moment: my partner went stomping up the venue’s hollow wooden stairs as the performers gradually brought one of their intense jams to an end - her clomp, clomp, clomp fading away exactly in time with the band’s disappearing sound. Synchronicity!
Sunglasz Vendor/Dignan Porch, Two Palms, London, 9 February
Another good Dignan Porch gig, a band I saw a couple of times a decade or so ago but who only properly made an impression on me when I caught them at the end of 2023 (they were duly chucked into my 2023 top 20 gigs list). This was another helping of relaxed-yet-propulsive psych-pop on a dank Hackney night at a venue which had covered up its giant windows with black curtains, blackout style. Like It Was was perhaps their best song on the night, while they also apparently played Ancestral Trial live for the first time. Meanwhile, Sunglasz Vendor were also decent: choppy guitar, Squeeze-style “story-telling” vocals, and a singer-guitarist who had a “Death is coming” sticker on his guitar. He’s not wrong.
 |
Music during the blackout:Dignan Porch |
CorpusMilner: Two Palms, London, 8 March
Not an easy gig to sum up. It started with a lone guy in shades and a “Gaza Ceasefire” t-shirt gnomically ranting stuff like “I grew up where the Toldpuddle Martyrs are from” over programmed beats. Before long there was also a bassist, a keyboardist/guitarist and various singer-rappers on stage who would sometimes just appear for one song. The music? Kind of an LCD Soundsystem vibe, but also a sort of latter-day (ironic?) acid-house rave, with strobe lights blasting the audience. There were Dada-ist touches as well, with the Tolpuddle Martyr guy periodically throwing talcum powder over himself. Not a lot of it though, and not in a particularly demonstrative way - instead, it was a sort of furtive, inexplicable gesture. As I say, not easy to sum up.
Pohl/Henry Blacker/Jellyskin/Objections/Bloody Head: Strongroom, London, 24 March
Another Wrong Speed Records all-dayer (I seem to have been to several of these now) and there were battleship levels of heaviosity at this show. Pounding drums, screeching guitars, raging vocals: this was the general vibe. Some things were notable - like the singer/ranter in Objections doing a didactic, gesticulation-rich, Crass-like “There is no authority but yourself” thing, or Pohl’s pretty irresistible super-pummelling hard rock sound. Best band on the day, though, were Leeds’ Jellyskins, who wove electronic beats and cool female vocals into a post-rock sound that jumped overboard from the heaviosity battleship.
Bastien: Two Palms, London, 5 April
“Soft boys doing soft rock” is their slogan on Bandcamp, which may or may not be ironic, but either way I liked their brand of soul-infused indie. In places I thought I could hear traces of Aztec Camera (no bad thing) or even Orange Juice, with the vocalist’s baritone (?) sounding rather Edwyn Collins-ish to me. In truth it took me a while to key into their vibe but once I did I was happy enough. Maybe I’m a soft boy as well?
Strange Devotion/Oort Clod: LTB Showrooms, Coventry, 12 April
Two excellent bands at Coventry’s best - and soon-to-be-demolished - venue, with (bonus feature) yours truly throwing down between-the-bands tunes as makeshift DJ. Twinkly, vaguely Wire-like pop from Strange Devotion, who have a solid-gold winner with their first release Another Person. SD’s singer Rhys then reappeared as keyboardist and exuberant dancer in Oort Clod, who belted out very accomplished indie stuff, with various band members doing vocals (mostly of the fey, understated variety). Personal high point: Oort Clod's drummer (Bruce) dementedly shouting “So I’ll put another whisky on the table” during a song called The Lake from their excellent Cult Value album. Also, they did a genuinely good version of 96 Tears. All pretty cool.
 |
| Oort Clod, not to be confused with a giant spherical shell surrounding the Earth's solar system |
Georgie Hume & The Pity Party: Sun Tavern, London, 1 June
Super-relaxed Latin-tinged jazz-blues instrumentals played by a three-piece (bass, singer-guitarist, beret-wearing drummer) in a nouveau-boozer in Bethnal Green - yes, yes y’all. I only came across these regular Saturday afternoon sessions because I was scurrying along Bethnal Green Road one day and heard the music through the open door. Apart from this 1 June slot, I’ve since been to several others. One day the whole of Bethnal Green will consist of places like this, dishing out schooners of expensive IPA against a backdrop of “cool vibes”. But for now, it works.
 |
| Drummer sans beret: Georgie Hume & The Pity Party |
The Rebel: Windmill, London, 3 June
I think I've said all I can possibly say about The Rebel over the years, but for the Niluccio-on-The-Rebel completists, blog here.
Knifedoutofoexistence: Just Dropped In, Coventry, 15 June
Billed as “haunted power electronics for the misbegotten”, I guess this was about right. I sandwiched this show in between an afternoon gig and a later DJ thing, so I guess I was, er, especially hungry for music that day. This one-man drone-noise outfit (looking very “metal” with his tattoos, long hair, black jeans and black t-shirt) treated an audience of about 30 to a wall of bleeding electro screech and muted cries on the mic. Like torture heard in a distant prison cell. Interesting, uncompromising stuff and I particularly liked the projected b&w visuals of waves repeatedly crashing against the girders of a pier (with some nice glitches in the projection) as well as the transitions in the sound, which for me was where the noise assault really worked.
Oyster/Gold Cup/Grazia/Delivery: Delicious Clam, Sheffield, 27 July
Lots good about this sprawling Clamlines event on a warm-verging-on-hot Sheffield evening. First up, Oyster, with their excellent Pavement-style art rock stuff (see 21 Sept). Next, Gold Cup with a set that came over like a punkish Hawkwind in places: a sort of blistering psych heaviness alternating with a more clipped punky delivery. Best song: I Wanna Get Kidnapped. Grazia were shouty, perky, semi-surf pop fronted by someone who could have been a gothed-up B52s singer. Also, she had a nice “No Fun” tattoo on her arm. And last, Delivery: evidently these melodic scuzz-noise chuggers had driven 18 hours from France to get to Castlegate just in time. Need they have bothered? Yeah, man, they were also good. An all-round excellent gig, and afterwards we tumbled outside into the balmy midnight Sheffield air. More proof that rock music emits valuable steam-heat.
 |
| Gold Cup with their blistering psych heaviness (or something) |
Flypaper: Shacklewell Arms, London, 7 September
Yeah, sticky stuff. These were a four-piece (four tallish blokes in their late-20s/early thirties) doing a low-key, vaguely Butterflies Of Love-style thing: slow songs, softish low-in-the-mix vocals, hints of country twang on the lead guitar, a gradually building sense of melody and rhythm. After a couple of songs it really began to click. I particularly liked the rhythm guitar sound: loud, and apparently routed through a slightly damaged amp. Blown out, man. At this gig I bumped into members of Strange Devotion, my new mates. They seemed to like Flypaper as well. I am the fly, I am the fly/Fly in the, fly in the … oint-ment.
Oyster: Dream Bags, London, 21 September
Slowish tunes, cryptic lyrics ("Made in Italy in a tiny factory/By a lady over 80", “I live a dangerous life”), and outbursts of fast scratchy rhythm guitar: Oyster kept it gritty (ha ha). Yes, this guitar/bass/drums three-piece were excellent in a dour post-Pavement type of way (also Jack Lesser Lewis came to mind). To my ears the sound throughout seemed murky, which, along with the venue’s cellar darkness and the sparse, mostly seated audience, gave the whole gig a pleasingly gloomy feel. Best bit: a song near the end where the singer-guitarist wove in keyboards while still playing bits of a very nice guitar line.
 |
| Gritty stuff?: Oyster stay firmly in their shell in Shoreditch |
Leather.head: Shacklewell Arms, London, 1 October
First time in more than two years seeing these art-rock faves from back in the day. Did they still have what it takes? Er, yeah, I’d say so. As broody as ever, with sax squalls, ominously-quiet-then-screamo singing and plenty of sudden twists and turns, stops and starts. They were apparently trying out lots of new songs at this show. These were sort of like the old ones, as far as I could tell, but that’s pretty good in my book. Also notable at this gig: a strong pro-Palestine message, with a big Palestinian flag pinned up on the stage, the saxophonist wearing a “Palestinian Revolution” t-shirt and a gig finale that consisted of From the River, To The Sea with the Palestinian poet Zia Ahmed. Resistance to oppression as a duty.
Rowan & Friends/Autocamper/Special Friend: Just Dropped In, Coventry, 4 October
Fun times in Coventry. First up Rowan & Friends, with a swinging, vaguely Modern Lovers take on observational indie-pop. Extremely genial, notwithstanding an alarming number of songs about Jesus. Then Autocamper: jangle-pop with edge, propelled along by lively chiming keyboards and a lot of fast rhythm guitar. The drummer had a fantastic Ramones bowlcut and the main singer a nice line in trenchant Mancunian (actually Prestonian) stage patter: “You can tell we went to art school”. And le troisième: Paris’s Special Friend, a drummer-guitarist two-piece with particularly good drumming (lots of floor tom) and a mix of shoegaze pop and blissed-out slowies. As SP played, ancient episodes of Bagpuss were being projected behind them, including a purple frog playing banjo.
 |
| Autocamper, ably suported by Bagpuss |
Breakup Haircut: Victoria, London, 8 October
Fast, funny and fun - Breakup Haircut hit all the f’s. This was speedy punk-pop played with lots of smiley energy. The singer was like a cross between Poly Styrene and the bouncing singer from The Grates (remember them?): non-stop movement, with a lot of swaying, stomping, jumping and all-round bopping about. Some pretty funny lyrics as well: "Out of my way, I'm not gettin' on the night bus", "I wanna be a greaser, perfect haircut and a leather jacket". At times the speed of the juddery punk bass playing was - believe it or not - like something from Crass. Yeah, Breakup Haircut had the moves, the sound and even the haircuts. Make mine a greased-back rocker cut, please.
 |
| All the f's: Breakup Haircut |
Friedhelm Flamme: St Paul’s Cathedral, London, 13 October
Hordes of tourists, bossy ushers, teenagers in black clerical gear (novitiate vicars?) bowing in front of the altar: yeah, man, another super-happening gig in St Paul’s. Friedhelm Flamme, dressed all in black, his back turned resolutely to the audience, blasted out organ music by Bach, Max Drischner and Richard Bartmuss. Waves of thunderous sound (be afraid mere mortals for ye are naught before god) and also quiet passages where it sounded as if the organ was being played in a distant building. These eerie quieter passages were for me the highlight of this crisp 30-minute recital. Carnival Of Souls eat your heart out.
Werewolf Colours Orchestra: Victoria, London, 16 October
Had no idea what to expect with this gig - what I got was a heady brew of cosmic freak-out rock with dashes of Sun Ra weirdo free jazz. Yes, really. Four rather grizzled looking surfer dudes (from Portugal, apparently) playing sax, drums, guitar and bass rollocked their way through a sprawling set which built into crescendos, eased away into quiet passages and then let rip all over again. The bassist was particularly watchable: his face contorted with tense concentration, a plectrum clenched between his teeth and his eyes constantly monitoring what the singer-guitarist was doing. Meanwhile, a projection of shifting blobs of colour, minerals and chemicals bubbled away behind them. Far out, man.
Wonderbug: Shacklewell Arms, London, 22 October
A gig that won me over because of The Voice. The woman singer in this band had a startling-powerful voice which at first sounded like it meant we were in for striving-desperately-to-be-big-time-pop stuff. Not so. The band - drums, guitar, bass and the singer's keyboards - bashed out choppy arrangements that never felt too predictable while the singer unleashed some of her big, angsty, bluesy vocals. These, at their best, were stunning - almost Billy Mackenzie or Sinead O'Connor-level stuff. By the second half of the set Wonderbug had seemingly toned things down (or the singer had), but for two or three songs they were sort of immense.
Nel Nome Di Bach musicians, Cripta Di San Domenico, Cagliari, 26 October
Another excellent classical gig, this was an all-Bach recital by a chamber ensemble of violins, viola, cello, flute and, best of all, a large salmon-coloured harpsichord, the latter played by a severe-looking, saturnine guy of about 25 who looked like a young David Byrne only less happy-go-lucky. One of the three pieces they played included a longish harpsichord-only passage (a harpsichord solo?) which they did all over again as an encore. Groovy stuff. The guy sitting next to me didn’t just tap his feet along to Bach’s propulsive arrangements, he also waved his arms around as if he was conducting. Maybe we’re all conductors now?
 |
| Psycho killers: Nel Nome Di Bach musicians |
The Smashing Times: Just Dropped In, Coventry, 1 December
Did The Smashing Times er, smash it at this early evening gig (6pm start) in Coventry? Well, yes, they did. Bashing out very accomplished psych-pop, often with heavy floor tom which sounded particularly good, TST had a super-relaxed singer with pleasingly fey vocals as well as some nice low-level whines. It was psych-pop but with baroque Velvet Underground-ish elements. Earlier, when I asked the Baltimore-based singer at the merch stall what time they were on he said, “Oh, about six-and-a-half. 'Six-and-a-half ', isn’t that what you guys here say?” Er, close enough. And so I’m giving this gig a resounding 6.5 out of ten on the Niluccio score-ometer. Smashing!
 |
| 3.0 members of the band: The Smashing Times |
Comments
Post a Comment