My 20 best gigs of 2023
Yeah man, it's that time of year again: the Niluccio on noise top 20. My best (or ast least a few half-remembered) shows from another excellent year spent hurrying into shabby venues surrounded by people I barely looked at (and certainly didn't talk to) all for the privilege of having the remains of my hearing shattered by too much sound. This is the 14th year of these oh-so-exciting lists, so we're a mere 280 gigs into my mid-life live music extravaganza. Will I make it to 500? Maybe ...
Hot Face: Dream Bags, London, 7 February
Pleasing garage-guitar stuff from Hot Face, a band I liked enough on first hearing to check ‘em out again a few weeks later (Shacklewell Arms). Two things in particular that stood out: the big chord change and ringing vocals in their tune Automated Response (a hooktastic winner live) and the intense demeanour of the vaguely Mod-ish singer, big sideburns and (non-Mod) brothel-creeper shoes.
Pleasing garage-guitar stuff from Hot Face, a band I liked enough on first hearing to check ‘em out again a few weeks later (Shacklewell Arms). Two things in particular that stood out: the big chord change and ringing vocals in their tune Automated Response (a hooktastic winner live) and the intense demeanour of the vaguely Mod-ish singer, big sideburns and (non-Mod) brothel-creeper shoes.
The Lunar Effect: Blondies, London, 9 February
Shake your hair like it's 1974: genuine headbanging stuff and probably the purest "rock" gig I’ve attended in decades. The laid-back singer, sporting an oversized off-white cable-knit sweater, an enormous mass of long ginger hair and Catweazle whiskers, would walk unsteadily about - lean precipitously as if he was set to fall over - before grabbing the mic stand and bursting into piercing Ritchie Blackmore-style vocals. The music, essentially fairly traditional, non-metal rock, included a couple of bluesy ballads for extra 70s rock authenticity. The vibe was fun without being parodic. In several cases, the singer finished a driving rock song by … bursting out laughing. Genuinely good.
Long-haired music for long-haired people: The Lunar Effect
Big Break: JT Soar, Nottingham, 25 February
All together now, What the Nottingham gaffer don’t know won't hurt him!! Yes, more Big Break, a band I’ve seen approximately twenty-hundred times in the past 2-3 years (or more than once anyway), and here they were, not in Sheffield but still blasting their way through a dozen sub-two-minute Devo-meets-hardcore blurts from their just-out Angel's Piss album. Fresh piss from South Yorks? Hampered by slightly unclear vocals (defective levels?) on the night, they were still fierce, jagged and driving. And the burly singer's delicate little on-stage jigs are always a pleasing sight.
All together now, What the Nottingham gaffer don’t know won't hurt him!! Yes, more Big Break, a band I’ve seen approximately twenty-hundred times in the past 2-3 years (or more than once anyway), and here they were, not in Sheffield but still blasting their way through a dozen sub-two-minute Devo-meets-hardcore blurts from their just-out Angel's Piss album. Fresh piss from South Yorks? Hampered by slightly unclear vocals (defective levels?) on the night, they were still fierce, jagged and driving. And the burly singer's delicate little on-stage jigs are always a pleasing sight.
Cath Roberts & Olie Brice/Alex Ward Item 4: Centrala, Birmingham, 26 February
"Is it going to be dissonant?", asked my partner before reluctantly agreeing to make a rare appearance at a live musical event that wasn't classical/opera. Naturally we were then treated to an hour-and-a-half of improv noise that certainly got pretty close to dissonance. First Cath Roberts and Olie Brice did a sax-and-double bass thing: all eerie scrapes, pops and blurts. Because of where I was sitting, the bass was so close that Brice's bow was in constant danger of hitting my legs (improv, man!). Then Alex Ward had a go at upping the dissonance levels. Looking older than in his Boat Ting days (now a skinny, bearded prophet), from him and his outfit we got clarinet whine and spurts, super-intense guitar micro-freakouts, and er, other stuff that probably went over my head. But, I hear you ask, was it dissonant ..?
"Is it going to be dissonant?", asked my partner before reluctantly agreeing to make a rare appearance at a live musical event that wasn't classical/opera. Naturally we were then treated to an hour-and-a-half of improv noise that certainly got pretty close to dissonance. First Cath Roberts and Olie Brice did a sax-and-double bass thing: all eerie scrapes, pops and blurts. Because of where I was sitting, the bass was so close that Brice's bow was in constant danger of hitting my legs (improv, man!). Then Alex Ward had a go at upping the dissonance levels. Looking older than in his Boat Ting days (now a skinny, bearded prophet), from him and his outfit we got clarinet whine and spurts, super-intense guitar micro-freakouts, and er, other stuff that probably went over my head. But, I hear you ask, was it dissonant ..?
The prophet surrounded by his disciples (effects pedals): Alex Ward Item 4
Ski Lift/The Tubs: Windmill, London, 30 March
Firm jangle-pop favourites with this blogger, the Tubs were both relaxed and almost fiery at this gig in a venue I’ve inflicted my DJ’d music on countless times in years gone by. The singer (Owen) seemed to be on particularly pouty pop form, while the lead guitarist was apparently possessed by some kind of guitar demon: hunched and strumming away maniacally. Meanwhile, Ski Lift delivered decent choppy pop which was good enough for me to invest £5 (sterling) of my own money, buying a CD from them on the night. Merch!
Firm jangle-pop favourites with this blogger, the Tubs were both relaxed and almost fiery at this gig in a venue I’ve inflicted my DJ’d music on countless times in years gone by. The singer (Owen) seemed to be on particularly pouty pop form, while the lead guitarist was apparently possessed by some kind of guitar demon: hunched and strumming away maniacally. Meanwhile, Ski Lift delivered decent choppy pop which was good enough for me to invest £5 (sterling) of my own money, buying a CD from them on the night. Merch!
The Tubs: swoonsome jangle-pop in your area
Church Party/Trust Fund/The Tubs/Big Break: Delicious Clam, Sheffield, 15 April
Another bustling and varied line-up at the still-doing-it-for-the-kids Delicious Clam. First up, Church Party, playing a shortish set of sprightly pop-flavoured garage rock, with the singer indulging in the odd shimmy to liven things up. Next, Trust Fund veered into super-twee territory - fragile, high-pitched vocals and creaky, child-like keyboards. A surprising triumph. The Tubs (again!), then Big Break (also, again!), with one of their superfans, Jeuce's singer-ranter Jenn, careering about at the front to incite a minor riot, particularly during the excellent The Gaffer. As the Tubs’ Owen Williams said, this gig had "all the types of music … gentle music, in-between music and aggressive music".
Another bustling and varied line-up at the still-doing-it-for-the-kids Delicious Clam. First up, Church Party, playing a shortish set of sprightly pop-flavoured garage rock, with the singer indulging in the odd shimmy to liven things up. Next, Trust Fund veered into super-twee territory - fragile, high-pitched vocals and creaky, child-like keyboards. A surprising triumph. The Tubs (again!), then Big Break (also, again!), with one of their superfans, Jeuce's singer-ranter Jenn, careering about at the front to incite a minor riot, particularly during the excellent The Gaffer. As the Tubs’ Owen Williams said, this gig had "all the types of music … gentle music, in-between music and aggressive music".
Thee Mightees/Holiday Ghosts: Delicious Clam, Sheffield, 18 April
Two fave bands on one bill, yes it had to be another Delicious Clam mini-extravaganza. Holiday Ghosts - who I was seeing for the millionth time if not more - were … perfectly OK, but in truth for me the thing that most stood out from their set on the night was singer Sam Stacpoole’s lovely black Elvis cap. Superficial of me, I know, but er, there you are. Thee Mightees, meanwhile, were rather brilliant in their super-understated, vaguely chaotic, extremely non-rock and roll way. Blithe, blissful melodies from the fabled land of jangle.
Two fave bands on one bill, yes it had to be another Delicious Clam mini-extravaganza. Holiday Ghosts - who I was seeing for the millionth time if not more - were … perfectly OK, but in truth for me the thing that most stood out from their set on the night was singer Sam Stacpoole’s lovely black Elvis cap. Superficial of me, I know, but er, there you are. Thee Mightees, meanwhile, were rather brilliant in their super-understated, vaguely chaotic, extremely non-rock and roll way. Blithe, blissful melodies from the fabled land of jangle.
Liminal Project: Dream Bags, London, 26 May
The three-piece Liminal Project were a low-key take on goth with thunderous drum machine/programmed beats, distinctly ominous bass lines, high-in-the-mix guitar - including numerous downstroke guitar "chimes" - and determinedly sombre vocals. All fine with me. Add a bit more flutter to the vocals and it would have been Cocteau Twins territory. The Faith-era Cure vibes of their slowest song was possibly their best.
The three-piece Liminal Project were a low-key take on goth with thunderous drum machine/programmed beats, distinctly ominous bass lines, high-in-the-mix guitar - including numerous downstroke guitar "chimes" - and determinedly sombre vocals. All fine with me. Add a bit more flutter to the vocals and it would have been Cocteau Twins territory. The Faith-era Cure vibes of their slowest song was possibly their best.
Goth for a new age?: Liminal Project in the fiery depths
Unknown rap-metal band: Blondies, London, 8 June
I didn't even catch the name of this band (very remiss of me), but they were pretty striking. Pre kick-off, three very unassuming types (a guitarist, a bassist and a drummer) quietly assembled and looked as if they were about to play polite indie of some kind. After a few chords they were suddenly joined by a super-rambunctious singer/rapper/ranter (pictured) who exploded into life as the band suddenly took off behind him. Grinding guitars and pummelling drums began to set up a relentless backdrop as the ranter-maniac harangued the audience, jumped up onto the bar, prowled about all over the place and generally ran amok. Pretty great. This livewire’s best line went like this: "Fuck Rishi Sunak, fuck Liz Truss, fuck Tony Blair, fuck Winston Churchill, fuck all of them". I quite agree.
I didn't even catch the name of this band (very remiss of me), but they were pretty striking. Pre kick-off, three very unassuming types (a guitarist, a bassist and a drummer) quietly assembled and looked as if they were about to play polite indie of some kind. After a few chords they were suddenly joined by a super-rambunctious singer/rapper/ranter (pictured) who exploded into life as the band suddenly took off behind him. Grinding guitars and pummelling drums began to set up a relentless backdrop as the ranter-maniac harangued the audience, jumped up onto the bar, prowled about all over the place and generally ran amok. Pretty great. This livewire’s best line went like this: "Fuck Rishi Sunak, fuck Liz Truss, fuck Tony Blair, fuck Winston Churchill, fuck all of them". I quite agree.
Ranter-in-chief from unknown band runs amok
The Rebel: Windmill, London, 19 June
I've previously said plenty about The Rebel (he'll be inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame any day now) so I won't go over it all again. Suffice to say this was more of his crunching beats and garbled noise (ten straight minutes of this without vocals at the beginning), laced with sour lyrics verging on the misanthropic. "If the oceans were made of whisky / I'd swim to the bottom and die / Sometimes I think it's amazing that I'm still alive" being one of the sunnier moments. As ever with Mr Rebel, the devil was in the detail: he wore two cowboy hats (one on top of the other), and explained that his unusual white Vox guitar (emblazoned with a £20 sticker) was of "such low quality that only 80 were ever made".
I've previously said plenty about The Rebel (he'll be inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame any day now) so I won't go over it all again. Suffice to say this was more of his crunching beats and garbled noise (ten straight minutes of this without vocals at the beginning), laced with sour lyrics verging on the misanthropic. "If the oceans were made of whisky / I'd swim to the bottom and die / Sometimes I think it's amazing that I'm still alive" being one of the sunnier moments. As ever with Mr Rebel, the devil was in the detail: he wore two cowboy hats (one on top of the other), and explained that his unusual white Vox guitar (emblazoned with a £20 sticker) was of "such low quality that only 80 were ever made".
Xie: Dream Bags, London, 12 July
A baseball-capped duo who unleashed an avant-noise onslaught to a tiny gathering in DG's small basement which, I must admit, I only survived for about 15 minutes because my ears were hurting and, anyway, the drummer’s kick-pedal apparently kept malfunctioning (so, er, I made my excuses and left). They were good though. Lots of choppy snare and cymbals-heavy drumming and various electronic drones and squalls triggered by a guy on keyboards. At times the latter would press a key which seemingly played a programmed snatch of treated vocals (I think). Also, the gig kicked off with the keyboardist using a delicate paintbrush to dab something (paint?, an oil?) onto the cymbals and drums, which the drummer then proceeded to strike. A sacred noise ritual.
A baseball-capped duo who unleashed an avant-noise onslaught to a tiny gathering in DG's small basement which, I must admit, I only survived for about 15 minutes because my ears were hurting and, anyway, the drummer’s kick-pedal apparently kept malfunctioning (so, er, I made my excuses and left). They were good though. Lots of choppy snare and cymbals-heavy drumming and various electronic drones and squalls triggered by a guy on keyboards. At times the latter would press a key which seemingly played a programmed snatch of treated vocals (I think). Also, the gig kicked off with the keyboardist using a delicate paintbrush to dab something (paint?, an oil?) onto the cymbals and drums, which the drummer then proceeded to strike. A sacred noise ritual.
Powerplant: JT Soar, Nottingham, 16 July
Seemingly everywhere at once - in my emails, on people's t-shirts in the street, and er, in many other places - Powerplant were evidently on the up by the time of this Sunday gig in happening Nottingham. Were this semi-vogue-ish band any good? Yeah, I reckon so. They doled out a pretty impressive blend of synthed-up punk (more Devo meets hardcore, you might say). The sound levels on the night were perhaps weighted against the vocals, but to judge from their Bandcamp PP stuff generally involves pretty mangled vocals that could have been spewed out by a (slightly warped) machine. Nice stately moments of keyboard here and there (their Stump Soup tape is an incredible high-concept 60 minutes of this) and some excellent "huh" grunts from the singer-guitarist. If Powerplant become big I will - naturally - immediately stop liking them, but for now … they're cool.
Seemingly everywhere at once - in my emails, on people's t-shirts in the street, and er, in many other places - Powerplant were evidently on the up by the time of this Sunday gig in happening Nottingham. Were this semi-vogue-ish band any good? Yeah, I reckon so. They doled out a pretty impressive blend of synthed-up punk (more Devo meets hardcore, you might say). The sound levels on the night were perhaps weighted against the vocals, but to judge from their Bandcamp PP stuff generally involves pretty mangled vocals that could have been spewed out by a (slightly warped) machine. Nice stately moments of keyboard here and there (their Stump Soup tape is an incredible high-concept 60 minutes of this) and some excellent "huh" grunts from the singer-guitarist. If Powerplant become big I will - naturally - immediately stop liking them, but for now … they're cool.
Powerplant: everywhere at once
Water Machine: Delicious Clam, Sheffield, 9 September
You call it "kooky", I call it infectious pop music in a B52s vein (or maybe The Grates, the amazing hyper-energetic Australian band active 2002-20). Fronted by a wild-eyed, action-packed super-demonstrative person with a safety-pin earring and "Grow" tattoo'd on her chest, this was irresistible stuff sounding considerably more powerful than their demo on Bandcamp. Notable things included seeing how they drummed with both the floor tom and snare covered with tote bags (modern muffling) and made good use of cow bell knocks. A really entertaining gig, and all in all it was probably what they call a water cooler moment.
You call it "kooky", I call it infectious pop music in a B52s vein (or maybe The Grates, the amazing hyper-energetic Australian band active 2002-20). Fronted by a wild-eyed, action-packed super-demonstrative person with a safety-pin earring and "Grow" tattoo'd on her chest, this was irresistible stuff sounding considerably more powerful than their demo on Bandcamp. Notable things included seeing how they drummed with both the floor tom and snare covered with tote bags (modern muffling) and made good use of cow bell knocks. A really entertaining gig, and all in all it was probably what they call a water cooler moment.
Silk Cuts/The Smashing Times: New River Studios, London, 28 September
Arriving at this gig halfway through Silk Cuts' set, I skipped getting a drink from the bar and headed straight into NRS's murky concert room because the music sounded that good. And was that petunia I could smell in there? Anyway, Silk Cuts were well worth a deep drag: super-authentic C86 jangle-pop with fey vocals, spindly guitar chords and heavy thud-thud-thud drumming. And then Baltimore's The Smashing Times who, believe it or not, I'd been playing non-stop on Bandcamp for weeks before this gig (check out Candy Bar for example). Anyway, lovely psych-toned twee-pop played with a mournful edge by a chill band who seemed fully capable of playing for three straight hours if they wished. In the end they played for a mere 35 minutes.
Arriving at this gig halfway through Silk Cuts' set, I skipped getting a drink from the bar and headed straight into NRS's murky concert room because the music sounded that good. And was that petunia I could smell in there? Anyway, Silk Cuts were well worth a deep drag: super-authentic C86 jangle-pop with fey vocals, spindly guitar chords and heavy thud-thud-thud drumming. And then Baltimore's The Smashing Times who, believe it or not, I'd been playing non-stop on Bandcamp for weeks before this gig (check out Candy Bar for example). Anyway, lovely psych-toned twee-pop played with a mournful edge by a chill band who seemed fully capable of playing for three straight hours if they wished. In the end they played for a mere 35 minutes.
Cool dudes: The Smashing Times
Cowboyy: Two Palms, London, 6 October
Third time lucky at this new Jaguar Shoes-run Hackney venue - I'd been to two earlier shows, including what I think was the venue's inaugural gig, but hadn't dug the music very much. Cowboyy's stuff was some form of prog-psych/math rock, with very twiddly guitar, often with lots of distortion pedals. There was energetic drumming from someone apparently just filling in for the night (I liked his grunts and roars) and generally subdued but still urgent-sounding vocals. Stand-out moment: the singer asking the audience in a not-at-all-rehearsed moment whether anyone present knew a "a good fact" and wished to announce it on the mic. Cue absolute silence. Not even a shouted "no".
Third time lucky at this new Jaguar Shoes-run Hackney venue - I'd been to two earlier shows, including what I think was the venue's inaugural gig, but hadn't dug the music very much. Cowboyy's stuff was some form of prog-psych/math rock, with very twiddly guitar, often with lots of distortion pedals. There was energetic drumming from someone apparently just filling in for the night (I liked his grunts and roars) and generally subdued but still urgent-sounding vocals. Stand-out moment: the singer asking the audience in a not-at-all-rehearsed moment whether anyone present knew a "a good fact" and wished to announce it on the mic. Cue absolute silence. Not even a shouted "no".
All Girls Arson Club/Poledo Dynasty/Big Break: Strongroom, London, 21 October
Three good bands out of a longer all-dayer which saw a bunch of Delicious Clam outfits make the perilous journey to Shoreditch in east London. I've already said plenty about Big Break (pictured), while the excellent All Girls Arson Club were as good as the time I saw them back in sunny Sheffield about eighteen months earlier. Semi-amateurish, super-basic lo-fi pop from a duo (drums and guitar) with very clean female vocals and a fun, no-nonsense attitude. At this show they wore matching red felt bonnets and had a "Bash the fash" sticker on their snare drum. And Poledo Dynasty: heavy-ish post-punk noise with some decent riffs and powerful vocals. Not sure I totally got them (plenty in the crowd did), but still, decent stuff.
Big Break say 'Aggggggggghhhhhh'
Plan Pony/Dearthworms: LTB Showrooms, Coventry, 3 November
Two excellent performances from this pair of Sheffield-linked bands at Coventry's only adventurous (and soon-to-be-gone) venue. First the sax-and-electronic squall of the two-piece Plan Pony. This featured a dude squatting down over a suitcase full of pedals and effects units sending walls of electronic bleeps and screeches into the air as a sax player seemingly improv'd her way through the noise. Then Dearthworms who, despite refusing to play Cheetos Man (I asked), were groovy in a sort of warped-rock-what's-going-on-here sort of way. Elements of The Fall (I guess), but especially distinctive because of the singer's rasping-yet-tired vocal tones.
Plan Pony: living out of a suitcase
Teenage Tom Petties: The Windmill, London 11 November
A really enjoyable set from this garage-grunge outfit who hit various ecstatic mini-peaks, generally when they unleashed the keening backing vocals of one of the three guitarists. This floppy-haired guitarist guy, probably 40-ish, also had a winning habit of breaking out into a large, child-like grin halfway through the guitar freakouts. Yes, as their song Lambo has it, these five not-so-young-anymore blokes "still love rock and roll". Meanwhile, this gig also featured a deadly-serious-looking freaky dancer person from the audience who suddenly appeared down the front, manically whirling about. Dressed all in black, including some peculiarly-massive shorts, and with a grown-out buzz-cut, the assassin-cum-dancer looked uncannily like a 25-year-old Jean-Pierre Léaud. Music for the nouvellle vague, mes amis.
A really enjoyable set from this garage-grunge outfit who hit various ecstatic mini-peaks, generally when they unleashed the keening backing vocals of one of the three guitarists. This floppy-haired guitarist guy, probably 40-ish, also had a winning habit of breaking out into a large, child-like grin halfway through the guitar freakouts. Yes, as their song Lambo has it, these five not-so-young-anymore blokes "still love rock and roll". Meanwhile, this gig also featured a deadly-serious-looking freaky dancer person from the audience who suddenly appeared down the front, manically whirling about. Dressed all in black, including some peculiarly-massive shorts, and with a grown-out buzz-cut, the assassin-cum-dancer looked uncannily like a 25-year-old Jean-Pierre Léaud. Music for the nouvellle vague, mes amis.
Moni Jitchell/Portable Heads/Kullnes: The Old Hairdressers, Glasgow, 12 November
Three Scottish noise bands in Glasgow's estimable Old Hairdressers. First the tricksily-named Moni Jitchell were a tour de force: a two-piece solid-noise unit with delay-blasted vocals and beanpole guitarist throwing shapes all over the place (photographic evidence below). "Wall of noise" sort of covers it, but the physicality of their show also put me in mind of modern dance. Portable Heads and Kullnes shared a drummer (wearing a PJ Harvey t-shirt), and both bashed out variants of post-noise rock, but their sounds were fairly different. The Heads went in for lots of loud-quiet dynamics, with default vocals that were subdued and mumbly though sometimes veering into shouty territory. Kullnes were more grungy (occasionally sounding very Nirvana-like), with a jazz feel to some of their breakdowns. That said, their eight-minute Swim Like A Shark is different again: moody and shimmeringly beautiful mid-tempo rock.
Three Scottish noise bands in Glasgow's estimable Old Hairdressers. First the tricksily-named Moni Jitchell were a tour de force: a two-piece solid-noise unit with delay-blasted vocals and beanpole guitarist throwing shapes all over the place (photographic evidence below). "Wall of noise" sort of covers it, but the physicality of their show also put me in mind of modern dance. Portable Heads and Kullnes shared a drummer (wearing a PJ Harvey t-shirt), and both bashed out variants of post-noise rock, but their sounds were fairly different. The Heads went in for lots of loud-quiet dynamics, with default vocals that were subdued and mumbly though sometimes veering into shouty territory. Kullnes were more grungy (occasionally sounding very Nirvana-like), with a jazz feel to some of their breakdowns. That said, their eight-minute Swim Like A Shark is different again: moody and shimmeringly beautiful mid-tempo rock.
Let's get physical: Moni Jitchell in Glasgow
Dignan Porch: Victoria, London, 2 December
The lead guitar on opening song Hounded set the tone: pretty damned lovely yet not overdone and just one component in a wider set of pop-tinged psych rock that always maintained a nice balance between poppy melodocism and VU/motorik groove. So: songs that locked in quickly and didn't outstay their welcome. Highlights were the already-mentioned opening guitar lines, the stutter-rhythm of their mid-set song Footsteps, and their general un-fussy approach. Excellent throughout and well worth venturing out for on a cold Hackney night with ice underfoot, freezing fog and an eerie spectral ambience.
Sheltering from the cold with Dignan Porch
And there you have it. Twenty very good gigs from 2023, and there were at least another dozen or so I could easily have bunged on the list instead of these (it's all extremely random, mate). Contrary to the tired naysayers who lurk on YouTube comments threads saying patronising stuff like, "I feel sorry for young people today because they don't have music like this anymore", 2023 has - in my book at least - been another excellent year for live music. But then every year is. Bye!
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