It’s a frosty January evening, the kind Glasgow excels at, but inside The Hug and Pint, it’s a different story. The place is packed, sweaty, and thrumming with anticipation as Fog Bandits take the stage. By the end of the night, one thing is clear: this is a band who know how to make noise, make friends, and make you question whether you’ve had enough electrolytes for this level of moshing…

The band stormed out with “I Want to Set the World on Fire”—an apt opener for a set that burned with energy from start to finish. If Queens of the Stone Age ever went drinking with Echo and the Bunnymen, Fog Bandits would be the resulting hangover soundtrack. The second track, “If I Could Love You,” had a grungy earnestness, the kind that makes you wonder, “Who even are these guys, and how are they this good?”

By the time they launched into “The Coven,” I was hooked. Think of it as a sonic witch’s brew—dark, brooding, and just a touch of 80s hair metal flair. It’s not a song so much as an incantation, conjuring heavy basslines and jagged riffs.

Speaking of bass, the fourth track “HOUNDS” delivered enough low-end punch to rattle your pint glass clean out of your hand. It was a masterclass in rhythmic dominance, the kind of groove that makes your knees involuntarily give out.

And then came “Take the Money and Run” with its underlying emo overtones. This is the kind of number that brings the crowd together in a sweaty embrace, with the lead singer egging us on like the Pied Piper of GWR.

Mid-set, the band teased us with an unreleased track (working title? Anyone?), prefaced by, “This one’s not out yet, but please bounce around to it.” And bounce we did.

But the real highlight—the pièce de résistance—was their utterly gaudy, gloriously trashy cover of Britney Spears’ “Toxic.” Imagine the original, but filtered through the lens of a band who love chaos and aren’t afraid to make the crowd go feral. Moshing to Britney? It was like Christmas had rolled around again.

By the halfway point, the lead singer, who clearly moonlights as Mick Jagger’s dance coach, announced: “We need a break, as this man here”—gesturing to an audience member glossy with sweat—“is sweaty as all hell.” It was a moment of pure Glaswegian camaraderie.

A slower number “Pretty Little Words” a Radiohead-esque lament—gave us a brief moment of pause as the melancholy bassline wrapped around us like a comforting gloom.

The set barreled toward its conclusion with the penultimate track, “Ready or Not,” and the closer, “Vile.” By this point, the Hug and Pint had reached fever pitch. The front row of moshers surged forward, and in an act of true rock and roll madness, the lead singer was hoisted into the crowd. As the bassist shouted, “Keep him!” the gig reached its chaotic, sweaty zenith.

There’s a rare, almost magical quality about a Fog Bandits gig: it feels like everyone in the room is part of the same gang. Strangers share knowing grins, drinks are spilled without malice, and the band plays like they’re performing for pals in their living room.

Musically, the Bandits deliver a heady cocktail of 70s hair metal swagger and 90s grunge grit. Tracks like “The Coven” ooze theatricality, while others (ahem, “Toxic”) scream, “We’re here for a laugh, too.” On Spotify, their recorded sound is tighter and more polished, but live? It’s raw, sweaty, and utterly electrifying.

Fog Bandits at The Hug and Pint was a riotous start to 2025. Equal parts sweaty mosh pit and swaggering snake-hip dance party, it was everything you could want from a gig. They left the crowd grinning, exhausted, and slightly concerned about the state of their shoes.

Photos: Dale Harvey

Words: Angela Canavan