There’s a particular kind of holy chaos that only Glasgow can conjure — that strange cocktail of reverence and racket, rain and revelation. This year’s Tenement Trail, now in its eleventh incarnation, was less a micro-festival and more a music aficionado’s fever dream: over fifty acts stretched across the East End’s sacred and profane spaces — St Luke’s, BAaD, McChuills, Barrowland, and every bar with a plug socket in between.

It’s a pilgrimage of distortion that’s seems to be leaning into the post punk Irish renaissance that’s happening much to our delight. Here is who we seen and what we thought.

Adult DVD @ St Luke’s

Leeds’ Adult DVD opened the day like a synth apparition — chrome-plated and ice-cold, a Factory Records lovechild raised on a diet of irony and tinned lager. Their “Bill Murray” track glistened like neon through a smog of church incense. Imagine New Order if they’d been trapped in a laser tag arena with DMA’s and a bad hangover — that’s Adult DVD: sterile, shimmering, and slightly sinister.

Theo Bleak @ Barrowland 2

Theo Bleak followed with something far softer — a damp, lilting sigh that rustled like wind through stained glass. They occupy that spectral space between Phoebe Bridgers and Daughter, a melancholic folk-pop echo that seems to apologise as it enchants. Their set was like being serenaded by the ghost of a poet who never made rent. We lived the unadulterated whimsy of “I Look Like A Fool to You”.

Curiosity Shop @ Van Winkle

Curiosity Shop sneaked on to the line up last minute and being one of our highlights from last year we didn’t want to miss this set. The band wandered through their slot like wayward mystics. There’s something pastoral yet rural about them — as if Devendra Banhart had wandered into The Velvet Underground’s basement. Their track “Books on the Wild” with its two part harmonies is instantly mired in melancholic longing so much so I’m aghast that they’ve not yet been catapulted to fame for soundtracking the next big teen angst series (The Summer I Turned Pretty team you slept on this one.)

Mercy Girl @ Barrowland 2

Mercy Girl arrived like dusk personified — all indie shimmer and dreamlike ache. They could be The Japanese House’s grittier Glaswegian cousins, they instantly remind me of Fcukers and Crystal Castles all bruised vocals and reverb-soaked resolve. The crowd swayed as though under a spell they didn’t consent to but secretly adored. “Heaven” was a gloriously filthy disco stomp.

Fright Years @ Barrowland

Dark, decadent, and deliciously shimmering pop overtones — Fright Years stalked the Barrowland stage with glorious 70’s bohemian trumpet sleeves billowing out over the audience. Dappled in indigo lighting the band proved they have the chops to fill large capacity venues like the Barrowland ballroom. We loved the anthem crescendo of track “Stars”.

Flytrap @ 226 Gallowgate

At 226 Gallowgate, Flytrap were the chaos cousins — restless, wiry, and gloriously unpolished. Their sound spilled like electricity on wet pavement; or wait… was that the can of Tennents that got kicked over thier guitar pedals? Thier track “Gutted” sounded somewhere between Pip Blom and a very caffeinated Clamm a heady concoction worth checking out.

Youth For Sale @ Winged Ox

There’s a beautiful serendipitous feel to the synth laden, dreamy pop that high school friends turned band Youth For Sale are peddling. It’s feel good pop and Youth For Sale deliver it with all the tenderness of a buttercup blowing in a meadow. New tracks such as “I Think I’m In Love” are gorgeously catchy.

No Windows @ Barrowlands 2

Edinburgh’s No Windows once again titillated with thier joyful harmonies and sweeping soundscapes. The band seem to have swelled in numbers what started of as a due then a trio appeared in stage today as a fully fledged five price band.

It’s good to see them pick up a prominent touring schedule. Twee, high tempo with distorted guitars the band hand the audience spellbound so much so that you could have heard a pin drop between songs. We loved, “Zodiac 13”

Dirty Faces @ Van Winkle

Dirty Faces (from Derry) were a crowd favourite before they even played a note — with a queue that tracked all they way up the street and around the corner this was the hot ticket that everyone wanted in to see. The band started off well however after 3 songs and a tragic misfire with the in house PA which seemed to make their drum machine mutiny halfway through…

They filled the void with humour and jokes – which the crowd responded rapturously to, not faltering and leaving, eager to hear what these two Derry boys were bringing to the table.

Despite the sound irregularities the lead singer titillated the crowd to a spontaneous acappella rendition of I Am The Bogside Man, which had the crowd roaring in solidarity. It was chaos, calamity, and community — all the best Glasgow exports. We hope they come back soon possibly with a drummer in tow.

Basht. @ BAaD

Basht. took the industrial cathedral of BAaD and turned it into a sweat-lit dancefloor. We loved “Wild Horses” which sounds like Wunderhorse having some sort of fisticuffs with Lou Reed, part Franz Ferdinand, all kinetic fury — their set was a celebration of rhythm as resistance.

Gallus @ Barrowland

The beloved sons returned. Gallus are the sound of Glasgow itself — swaggering, sentimental, and always one chorus away from transcendence. Their Barrowland set was a victory lap: a communal singalong that could’ve powered the city’s grid for a week. If Arctic Monkeys had been raised on Tennents and tenement tales, they’d sound like this.

The energy in the room way beyond palpable our favourite track was , as always, for the energy that comes with it, was “Fruitflies”.

The Deadlians @ St Luke’s

The Deadlians, all the way from Dublin, brought fiddle fire and folk-punk finesse to the hallowed space of St Luke’s. Sean Fitzgerald’s vocals soared with Irish myth and modern bite — a bit Pogues, a bit Waterboys all heart. Their crowd — part cult, part congregation — left the pews trembling.

This was the only set I made sure to stay the full length of (with such a packed schedule it’s hard to see an entire set without missing someone else).

But who else can play the fiddle whilst standing on one leg? If that doesn’t entertain you nothing will.

The Deadlians played a tight set honed off the back of an extensive touring schedule . The song that will make your heart soar is “I Don’t Wanna Ride Your Auld One Anymore” from the opening fiddle crescendo to Fitzgeralds heavily accented litl the song is garuntee to get your toes tapping.

Tooth @ Van Winkle

Tooth gnawed through their slot with jagged glee. Their sound — somewhere between gangling Americana and surf pop, and the sound of a nervous breakdown — was pure catharsis. Small venue, big noise. “Don’t Cut Ne Down” is made for much larger stages than this.

Chloe Slater @ St Luke’s

In contrast, Chloe Slater’s set felt like a silk scarf in a storm. Grungy, haunted, slightly too beautiful for its own good. She’s part Wolf Alice , part Billie Eilish. The room was packed bursting with gig-goers eager to glimpse this starlet tipped for the top in years to come.

Martha May & The Mondays @ McChuills

Martha May prowled into McChuills like a 70s angel in platform boots and eyeliner war paint. She channels Blondie via Suzi Quatro, armed with quips sharp enough to slice denim. “If you’re not dancing, I’ll come and kick your ass myself,” she hollered — and no one dared call her bluff.

Part wild circus part grungy basement gig it didn’t take long before she had the crowd literally eating out of the palm of her hand. We loved the new track, “Gold”.

Cowboy Hunters @ McChuills

Cowboy Hunters turned McChuills into a high school disco – after a fist fight. Their effortlessly cool grungy high energy punk hit McChuills square in the jaw.

We adore the hate filled manifesto that is “Jemma” in not sure who she is but I hope the band didn’t buy a vodoo doll with her name on because the acerbic comedy bite that is this song would be enough to signal her demise alone.

Secret Set by Soapbox @ McChuills

Then came the rumour, the whisper, the secret: Soapbox, back again for a midnight resurrection. With people packed in tight and queue that wrapped around the entire perimeter of McChuills it seemed that word got out pretty quickly who was due to close the festival.

This wasn’t just a set; it was a homecoming. Guitars howled, lights bled, and the room became an altar to everything Tenement Trail stands for — rawness, rebellion, and reckless joy.

Joined on stage by London based bestie PsweatPants this show was wildly anarchic and wildly good.

Two songs in and it was taps aff indeed and the boy died began to surf over the crash barrier. Sweaty sermons from inside the mosh pit? You got it.

The gathered congregations were treaded to a wild ride through the bands back catalogue with highlights being “Fascist Bob” and the guyyeral snarl of “Yer Dah”.

Tenement Trail 2025 was once again a love letter to the underground — handwritten in feedback and sweat. It was the sound of artists insisting on being heard, of old ghosts finding new hosts.

The festival’s beauty lies in its sprawl — a sonic scavenger hunt through old churches and ballrooms alike, where every echo feels earned. And through it all, the city thrummed like a heart too big for its ribcage.

If festivals are meant to remind us who we are, Tenement Trail’s message is simple:

We’re alive, we’re loud, and we’re not done yet.

Article: Angela Canavan @ zonbiefang_