Thank god the promotors upgraded to a larger venue —because last Wednesday, St Luke’s was jam packed and hot as fuck, and by the end of the night, it had been shaken to the ground by the Lambrini Girls.
The evening kicked off with a blistering set from the brilliant Loose Articles, who lit up the stage with a wild, chaotic performance—something like a punk limbo that spilled right into the crowd. They set the tone perfectly for what was to come.
When Lambrini Girls stormed the stage, they brought with them a tidal wave of Big Dick Energy (track title and the general swagger they endorse) opening with tracks from their new album Who Let the Dogs Out.
But let’s rewind a bit. Before the show even began, photographers were warned: things might get a little dangerous in the pit. And honestly, isn’t that exactly what a punk show should be?
This was hands down the most fun I’ve had shooting a gig in ages. Crowd surfing, relentless moshing, headbanging, chants for Palestinian freedom, middle fingers to the government (past and present), and plenty of well-deserved shade thrown at the police—it was pure, cathartic chaos.
Lambrini Girls delivered a powerful set, blending songs from Who Let the Dogs Out with favourites from their debut EP You’re Welcome. I’ve never seen St Luke’s so alive. The energy was electric—I was in a trance behind the lens, probably annoying every other photographer because I couldn’t stop moving.
They tore through tracks like Help Me I’m Gay, No Homo, God’s Country, Cuntology 101, and my personal favourite, Love. Every moment hit like a punch and felt like a celebration.
I can’t stop thinking about Phoebe Lunny charging in and out of the pit, surfing a sea of bodies, commanding the chaos with ease, while Lilly Macieira shredded the stage, bleeding through her guitar strings with total commitment. It was a moment where happiness and rage collided, and it felt right.
This gig is going to stay with me for a long, long time. I have to see them again.
Porches, the brainchild of New York-based artist Aaron Maine, brought a genre-blending, emotionally charged set to Stereo on a rainy Sunday night in Glasgow. Known for weaving synth-pop sensibilities with grunge textures and angsty lyricism, Porches has carved out a distinctive sonic space over the past decade—and this performance proved exactly why fans keep coming back.
Opening with ‘Rag’, released last year as part of their album Shirt, the tone was immediately set: a collision of raw emotion and grungy soundscapes. Although the show wasn’t sold out, the energy in the room more than made up for it. The crowd, pressed eagerly to the stage, were visibly locked in—heads bopping, eyes fixed. One early highlight was ‘Itch’, a clear favourite with the audience, delivering gritty, synth-laced angst that got everyone moving. This was quickly followed by the faster-tempo ‘Lunch’, which shifted the vibe into a more upbeat, feel-good gear—without losing the emotional core that underpins Porches’ sound.
‘Sally’ stood out as a sonic contradiction in the best way: screechy guitar feedback introduced a track that quickly settled into a shoegazy rhythm with echoing vocals. The grungy breakdown landed heavy, and again the crowd responded with cheers and movement.
Maine’s quirky stage presence added charm throughout—playfully making strange mic noises and repeating “and so… and so… this is nice,” drawing laughter from the crowd. At one point, the room fell so silent in anticipation, Maine’s comment “you could hear a pin drop,” encouraged a burst of laughter. From there, the set deepened emotionally with ‘Rangerover’, its weighty beats, ringing synth and heart-on-sleeve lyrics drawing the audience in. New track ‘Party’, teased as part of the upcoming seventh Porches album, leaned into a pop-punk/emo aesthetic with a repetitive, tension-building chorus. ‘Joker’ followed with a high-energy burst, smoke filling the room and the crowd fully engaged.
Closing on ‘Comedown Song’, Maine leaned into the moody, grunge-tinged guitar lines and brooding vocals. The crowd, buzzing and clearly not ready for it to end, erupted into chants of “one more tune,” banging the floor for an encore.
Returning solo, Maine offered up a tender, stripped-back song “for the lovebirds”—just him and a mournful electric guitar. It was a touching moment of vulnerability. Finally, calling the band back on stage, he invited the crowd to choose the last song. Among scattered shouts, ‘Country’ rang out clearest and closed the night on a perfect, fan-picked note.
It may have been a grey, wet Sunday in Glasgow, but Porches made it feel electric.
I have fellow Glasgow photographer Rosie Sco’s amazing imagery to thank for introducing me to Divorce’s music last year—and for leading me to their Glasgow show on the Drive to Goldenhammer tour, promoting the release of their debut album of the same name.
The album takes me back to the moment I decided to move to Scotland—to find my own Goldenhammer. My initial plan was to pack a small backpack, grab my camera and a few books, and drive through the northern part of the United Kingdom (still post-Brexit, of course). But instead, I ended up taking a boring flight with all the usual frustrating procedures. Still, I think I’ve found my ideal town—and here I am.
But let’s move on…
Divorce played to a sold-out crowd at Stereo on the 5th of April 2025, with support from Dug, a lively duo who had us all dancing to their upbeat Irish folk tunes.
The four-piece headline band from Nottingham were greeted with joy as they took the stage, opening with two tracks from their album: the melancholic Fever Pitch and the funky All My Freaks.
What struck me most—beyond their incredible sound and poignant lyrics—was the way the voices of lead singers Felix Mackenzie-Barrow and Tiger Cohen-Towell blend so beautifully throughout their set. A perfect example is Gears, released in 2024, which captures the emotional tug-of-war many of us face trying to be there for everyone we care about, while daily responsibilities pull us in other directions. Another highlight is Lord, from their debut album, which powerfully explores identity and sexual desire.
Their set continued with a mix of Drive to Goldenhammer tracks and favourites from their EP Heady Metal, including Sex and the Millennium Bridge and one of my personal favourites, Scratch Your Metal.
After playing their latest hit, Hangman, the band briefly disappeared behind a tiny curtain, only to be called back for an encore. They closed the show with the stunning and satirical ballad Checking Out.
This was a deeply emotional and powerful gig, and I feel truly lucky to be discovering so many rising artists lately.
If there’s one thing Glasgow hates more than warm Tennents and flat chat, it’s liars—and Mass Text knows it – making a perfect analogy to this solid fact in between song banter. Kicking off the night with their snarling sermon “Truth Dies”, this solo venture felt less like an opening act and more like a synths holy reckoning on a barstool. Part Daniel Johnston in a bad mood, part Neutral Milk Hotel after a breakup in a Lidl car park—it’s stripped, spartan, and strangely soul-snatching.
“Were You Ever Birthed?”, they ask us—half whimsical, half accusatory—like some lost poet who’s just discovered sarcasm. It’s tragicomic, like reading Nietzsche scribbled on the back of a Greggs receipt. Somewhere between absurdity and raw vulnerability, it hooks you. A folk-tinged, existential crisis mired in guitar pedals and synths. It’s easy to like.
And then—like a glimmer of guilty joy in a hangover haze—they drop “Sister Golden Hair”, a cover of America’s classic, twisted into a shimmering downer hymn. Jason and Emily from Dehd join in like angels in ripped oversized hoodies and vintage jeans their harmonies jangling like rhinestone tears on a jukebox.
The Chicago DIY darlings, our holy trinity of grit, glow, and gumption, take the stage like they’ve just wandered in from some mythic 3am alleyway gig. It’s their first headline show in Glasgow—a moment TGB has waited for since we went along to see them support Dry Cleaning at the Barrowland a few years ago.
We fell in love with Dehd the way some people fall into rivers: accidentally, and with total abandon. Sailing on a houseboat on a trip to Chicago a few summers ago, a dear friend and I blasted Dehd from tinny speakers while downing White Claws like we were being sponsored…
In the ever-churning sea of indie rock, few bands exude the effortless cool and chic of Chicago’s Dehd. Comprised of bassist and vocalist Emily Kempf, guitarist and vocalist Jason Balla, and drummer Eric McGrady, this trio crafts a unique blend of surf rock, post-punk, and dream pop that captivates with its raw authenticity. Kempf’s commanding stage presence and husky vocals provide a magnetic focal point, while Balla’s reverb-laden guitar riffs weave a sonic tapestry that is both nostalgic and fresh. McGrady’s minimalist drumming, characterized by its steady, unembellished beats, lays a solid foundation that allows the band’s distinctive sound to flourish. Together, they channel their diverse influences into a cohesive style that is unmistakably their own.
Tonight, from the moment that lullaby-laced opening bars of “Window” unfurls, it’s obvious: this band doesn’t play gigs—they perform low-fi exorcisms. Frontman Jason’s baritone could make Pavarotti blush and go baritone himself. It’s rich, raw, and smells faintly of cigarettes and divine heartbreak.
“Mood Ring” is up next—jangly, joyous, and full of bite. The band, never ones to hide behind effects or egos, are all sweat and sincerity. No pretence. No posturing. Just proper musicians with calloused fingers and kind hearts.
They rip through a greatest-hits safari of their back catalogue of albums —from Water (the glistening debut) to the ghostly glory of Blue Skies, the chest-thumper Flower of Devotion, and the sonic kaleidoscope that is Poetry. Each track drips with reverb, heartbreak, and the sense that they recorded it at 3am using a broken heart and a a 8-track from yesteryear.
“Loner” is a standout—like if Roy Orbison had a nervous breakdown in a basement full of fairy lights. It’s got that dreamy, sad-boy strut of The Velvet Underground crossed with the sneer of early Hole.
“1000x”? Jesus wept. It’s like floating in a tub of glitter and tears. Soaked in longing and distortion. It’s a breakup song for people who still keep their ex’s playlists saved.
And then there’s “Clear”—a track so tender, it could make a first dance at a wedding feel like an acid trip in the best way possible.
Our personal favourite, though? “Palomino”. It gallops (of course it does), all dreamy swagger and vocal swoops. It’s like Mazzy Star hijacked a cowboy bar and made everyone cry in time.
New tracks are teased—louder, thicker with distortion, but smoother somehow. “Bad Love” transitions like silk melting into fire without pause into “Flood” it’s all guitars and ache.
By the end, “Alien” becomes less a song and more a prayer: with Emily and Jason return to the stage for a short encore they perform the song in a stripped back acapella rendition with Jason hammering away on a solo snare drum.
Dehd aren’t just a band. They’re a time machine. They’re the smell of summer on a porch you’ve never been to. They’re the reason you still believe in live music, in feelings, in the untouchable weirdness of it all.
F.O. Machete are like a cactus with a heart of gold. After more than 20 years since their first release, they’re back with a confetti-intoxicating bang.
Mother of a Thousand (released on Last Night From Glasgow) is an album full of their signature bittersweet delicacies, wrapped in a sugar coating.
Tonight’s fantastic set is both bewitching and barbed. Sonically jarring songs of love, devotion, and separation collide with darkly humorous observations of life and the human condition. Softly sung—at times almost conversational—you’re drawn in, spun into a web of words and music that suddenly explodes when you least expect it.
F.O. Machete hypnotize a sold-out Sleazy’s audience with a song-by-song account of their brilliant new album, peppered with between-song anecdotes on the do’s and don’ts of breakups—comparing exes to Skeletor and debating the correct pronunciation of “milk” in Glasgow.
Recorded at Chem19 with Paul Savage at the helm, the songs feel more evolved than before. Less lo-fi, yet still unmistakably F.O. Machete—just with an extra chromosome or two. In this case, it’s backing vocals and keyboards, a studio-led addition that makes a huge difference in tonight’s live show. There are now infinite layers to get lost in. As always, Natasha and Paul lead from the front with a captivating delivery of razor-sharp guitar and bass, while the backbone of Berny, Aidan, and Kotryna provides the sugary sparkle that balances the impact.
The night flies by in the blink of an eye, climaxing with fantastic encores of Olivia Newton-John’s Physical and Panda from their first album. Confetti cannons erupt, covering everyone—pretty impressive for a Sunday evening.
Like the Sirens of Greek mythology, fabled to lure sailors to their doom with irresistible songs, F.O. Machete are impossible to resist. And they’re ready and waiting.
It takes a certain kind of confidence to stride onto a Glasgow stage and declare, “I love Glasgow, it’s got real grit—if I were to move anywhere, I think I’d feel right at home here.” A bold claim from Lola Young, considering the city’s collective allergy to out-of-towners adopting it as their own. But we’ll let it slide, given her clear appreciation for the crowd’s no-nonsense energy. That, and the small matter of alleged nepotism—whispers abound that she’s related to The Gruffalo author Julia Donaldson, a revelation met with the sort of raised eyebrow Glasgow reserves for both suspiciously cheap pints and Westminster politicians.
Support act Bug Eyed kick things off, with the lead singer channelling peak Timothy Chalamet chic—somewhere between tousled charm and brooding indie-boy mystique. Their sound? Imagine the sonic equivalent of walking into a house party where everyone looks cooler than you but still hands you a drink. The standout moment comes with Snug as a Bug—a track that, if I had to make an analogy, is like a lost B-side from Jamie T’s most poetic era, but with a twang of something younger, more self-aware, with super fun synths.
Then, in a flash of unfiltered Gen Z energy, Lola Young bounds on stage, launching straight into Good Books. Her voice is an intoxicating mix of rawness and polish, wielding vulnerability like a weapon. The audience—adoring, half-feral—sings back every lyric, particularly during Big Brown Eyes, a fan favourite that sits somewhere between heartbreak and euphoria.
Then comes Wish You Were Dead—a track that, in another time, might have raised eyebrows but in this room, becomes a communal, slightly chaotic singalong. It’s less a song, more a shared exorcism of bad exes, worse decisions, and the general existential crisis of being 20-something.
The set moves seamlessly through heartbreak and self-reflection—Walk On By is a woozy, late-night lament that sounds like it should be playing in the background of a coming-of-age film where the protagonist just got dumped in the rain. Intrusive Thoughts is a kaleidoscope of disdain and disappointment, fear and fleeting romance, all wrapped up in Lola’s signature mix of self-awareness and biting humour. Crush is equally intoxicating, a song that simultaneously embodies infatuation and the knowledge that it’ll probably end in disaster.
At one point, a fan hands Lola a handcrafted poster, and she beams, declaring, “I want this on a T-shirt—that’s how much I love it.” A meta moment of fan appreciation, if ever there was one.
As the show nears its end, the band stretches out the last track in the set with a strobe-heavy outro, Lola slipping offstage in the thick of it. And then, as the crowd chants “HWFG” (Here We F***ing Go, for the uninitiated), she returns for the encore.
She closes with What Is It About Me—a song that distils all her best qualities: brutal honesty, a voice that feels lived-in, and lyrics that make you wince in recognition. And finally, Messy—the track she credits with changing her life. As the final notes ring out, the crowd lingers, reluctant to leave, hoping for one more song, one more moment.
Grit? Glamour? Gruffalo nepotism? Who knows. But one thing’s for sure—Lola Young just made Glasgow feel like home.
For someone who only a few nights ago mistimed a stage dive and ended up eating venue floor, The Dare shows no sign of caution tonight. If he’s nursing a black eye, it’s safely hidden behind his ever-present shades, and besides, nobody in this sweatbox of a room has come for restraint. The Queen Margaret Union is packed wall-to-wall with a crowd that could have stepped straight out of a 2006 American Apparel ad—millennials and Gen Zers alike, reliving or discovering the indie sleaze era in all its grimy, neon-lit glory.
Opening with the jagged synth pulse of “Open Up”, The Dare wastes no time in turning the place into a full-blown party. This is club music, but not as sleek or pristine as the sort dominating the charts—his sound is all scuffed-up trainers and sticky floors, drawing from the same lineage of bloghouse and electroclash that once gave us DFA Records, early Ed Banger, and the trash-glam excess of Test Icicles. “Cheeky” struts along with a bassline straight out of a Prince-damaged Chromeo track, while “Perfume” feels like the lost soundtrack to a particularly messy NYLON magazine afterparty, all sleazy vocals and pulsing beats.
As ever, The Dare thrives on audience interaction. At one point, he’s off the stage, hugging, dancing, and singing face-to-face with his fans—perhaps making sure that if he’s taking another tumble tonight, at least there’ll be bodies to catch him.
A particular highlight comes in the form of an unexpected cover: “I Can’t Escape Myself” by The Sound, transformed from its stark, post-punk origins into something almost seductive, like if Soft Cell had taken a crack at it in their Non-Stop Erotic Cabaret days. Then there’s “Bloodwork”, a track already dripping in late-night neon sleaze, now laced with a dash of Charli XCX’s hyperpop glitter—warped, twisted, and ready to blow out the speakers.
The main set ends, but the crowd demands more, and he delivers: a short but relentless encore of “Movement”, “All Night”, and of course, “Girls”, the song that’s fast becoming an anthem for a new generation of club kids.
By the time the house lights come up, the room is a mess of sweat, spilled drinks, and mascara running down grinning faces. The Dare might have hit the floor a few nights back, but tonight, he never once loses his footing.
Lucia & The Best Boys closed their UK Tour 2025 in Glasgow, their hometown. For this special gig, they brought onto the stage two of the most promising emerging bands in the city: the super-talented Tanzana, who, with the powerful voice of their lead singer and their banging sound, gave me goosebumps for the entire opening act; and the well-known The Era with their iconic harp.
Lucia entered the stage like a Lúthien Tinúviel ready for battle. Instead, she sat on a thin, tall chair, brandishing a harmonium and introducing The Best Boys over the ethereal notes of an extended opening of Summertime.
It wasn’t just the harmonium that made an appearance in this incredible set—mandolin, flute, keyboard, and violin alternated throughout the show alongside classic rock ‘n’ roll instruments.
Of course, Lucia’s tambourine and drum couldn’t be left out, especially the latter in When You Dress Up, where, as the song invites, she transformed from a graceful elf into a warrior leading her army into battle against Morgoth’s horde of orcs.
Once the crowd had been well and truly warmed up, the band played a strong set of songs, including Angels Cry Too, the unforgettable Blueheart, and Burning Castles from the album of the same name.
After a wee break, during which Lucia expressed her gratitude for once again playing in her own city at SWG3 (where it was noted how the band had levelled up the venue within the same building over the years), a violin made its appearance on stage, along with four members of The Best Boys lined up, ready to recreate a performance that had previously been played exclusively in selected Scottish castles.
In this evocative and emotional moment, the band performed Haunt Your Back and Somewhere in Heaven, gifting the fans a beautiful experience that showcased their talent and ability to create truly memorable moments.
Another break followed before the band regrouped in its original formation and proceeded to smash the venue with a run of high-energy tracks. Two of the standouts, So Sweet I Could Die and Perfectly Untrue, closed the show during the encore, sending the crowd over the moon and turning SWG3 into a sea of roaring, dancing waves.
Seeing Lucia & The Best Boys after getting a glimpse of their talent during the opening act for The Last Dinner Party last year felt like a blessing. This gig revealed their poly-instrumental and vocal skills to me for the first time, and it’s an act I won’t forget anytime soon.
Special mention to Tanzana. After missing their gig at King Tut’s last January, I was hoping to get the chance to see them soon, and my expectations were not disappointed. After the show, I listened to their only song on Spotify, Covet, on repeat. I’m sure we can expect great things from them.
Keith Richards famously said, “Everyone talks about rock these days; the problem is they forget about the roll.”
Well, based on tonight’s rabble-rousing performance, the roll in rock is alive and kicking—and Jim Jones All Stars hold the key.
Revved up and ready to explode like an eight-seater rocket launching from a juke joint in 1950s Tennessee, Jim Jones All Stars are the incendiary flag bearers of the purest rock and roll experience, laced with a dash of soul and funk. With a rasping voice that whoops and wails like Little Richard, a rhythm section bolstered by duelling saxophones pounding like a heartbeat, and guitars that cut like a knife, it’s impossible not to be swept up in the all-engulfing spectacle of sound and energy.
The music is raw, relentless, and utterly immersive. The visual aesthetic is equally striking—every detail perfectly in place, yet effortlessly cool. From snakeskin shoes and Zoot-esque suits to tiger-claw medallions and Americana shirts, the band doesn’t just sound the part; they look it too.
Jim Jones leads from the front, commanding the stage with electric presence. Engaging and relentless, he leans over the assembled congregation like a fiery preacher, delivering his gospel of rock and roll with fervour.
Tonight’s renditions of “Cement Mixer”, “Troglodyte”, “Shakedown” and “Rock and Roll Psychosis” are nothing short of explosive. The mix of old and new material is seamless, and the epic finale of “512” leaves the room in a frenzy.
You should take any and every opportunity to witness this extraordinary band live.
Jim Jones All Stars reaffirm belief in what was once known as the Devil’s Music.
After a five-year break, the English folk band Tunng is back to celebrate their twentieth anniversary with a European and UK tour. Tonight, they take the stage at Glasgow’s Room 2, a venue packed to the brim with eager fans.
The six-member band delivers a powerful performance on a stage crammed with an eclectic array of instruments—guitars, banjos, wind chimes, keyboards, star-shaped tambourines, and mic stands aplenty. Adding a playful touch, a mysterious bag, secretly filled with Haribo, makes an appearance before being tossed into the crowd, much to the audience’s delight.
They open their set with a soft, gentle rendition of “Bodies”, seamlessly transitioning into “Jenny Said”. The band’s signature vocal layering weaves beautifully through the room, creating a warm and immersive atmosphere. As the night unfolds, they revisit earlier albums with tracks like “Jenny Again” and “By Dusk They Were in the City”, before closing the set with “Hustle” and fan-favorite “Bullets”.
Throughout the night, Tunng showcases not only their impressive musicianship but also an incredible stage presence, effortlessly switching between instruments at a remarkable pace. Their performance is both dynamic and intimate, reaffirming why they remain a beloved name in contemporary folk. For fans of the genre, “Tunng” offers a truly comforting and captivating live experience.
The Golden Bough 