Fans really showed up for alternative indie-pop artist Zoe Graham, with her selling out at SWG3’s The Poetry Club. It was her first headline show in a long time and she was accompanied by a band who really upped the ante; Findlay Smith on drums, Charlotte Printer on bass, Louise Lacroix on synth, and Craig McMann on brass.
Opening with her latest release “Push and Pull” had the crowd eager to hear more. She followed with a few more uplifting and upbeat songs. A popular one with the crowd being “Evilin” where she tells the story behind the music video for it being a take on Fanny Cradock, “An 80s TV chef who looked like Margret Thatcher but who could make a good roast chicken”, charming the crowd with her jokes along the way.
She took the stage herself mid way through to bring the crowd down with some heartfelt songs, her folky and velvet voice carrying all the way to the back of the room.
The energy was brought back soon after as the band rejoined her for the final few tracks, with her encouraging crowd interaction in “Good Girl” with everyone singing the woof like melody, which she openly described herself. Finishing on a re-edit of an old song, “Hackit and Knackered” was a great end to encompass the night, blending the old with the new. It looks to be an exciting future for up and coming artist Zoe Graham.
Opening act KAETO glides around the stage, performing feel-good, dynamic electro-pop dance beats in an effortless fashion, layering vocals and instruments. Standout track “U R MINE” carries a simple message yet enchants the audience with lyrics made to be screamed from the rooftops. The lead singer switches in and out of vocal ranges throughout the set, creating a captivating performance full of tension, love, and light-heartedness. The track “CARRY YOU” highlights the band’s brilliance and imaginative approach, packed with a diverse range of musical inspirations, from shoegaze to alt-pop. KAETO know how to put on a show, and the confidence radiates from every band member, making for a truly sweet start to a wondrous night of music.
Ethereal Scottish rockers LUCIA AND THE BEST BOYS owned the stage in black leather splendour, performing an intoxicating selection of tracks from their latest album, BURNING CASTLES, as well as songs from their discography. The attention-grabbing “WHEN YOU DRESS UP” was performed as the opener, immediately showcasing Lucia’s flawless vocals and encapsulating everything the band represents, with 70s and 80s-inspired magnificence. “SO SWEET I COULD DIE” was a standout track, with a beautifully written hook and melody—qualities the band continues to master in their music time and time again.
Majestic London-based rock band THE LAST DINNER PARTY opened with the heavy, dramatic track “BURN ALIVE” from their latest album release, PRELUDE TO ECSTASY. The band enthralled the audience with clear, concise lyricism, dressed in angel wings and ballgowns as they twirled and danced while playing their instruments in perfect harmony. Their cheerfulness and exuberance stuck with the audience throughout the night. The set paused for a moment of philanthropy as the band gave a shout-out to BANQUET, a food bank charity they partnered with for this tour, thanking fans for the funds raised on the UK tour so far. The track “BIG DOG” electrified the room with raw, powerful emotion and rock guitar licks, a strong contender for the night’s highlight. As the keys came into play for the final song, “NOTHING MATTERS,” lead singer Abigail Morris proclaimed, “And just remember, nothing matters.”
All the musicians tonight were truly impressive, and it won’t be long before we see each of them filling stadiums.
The 10th edition of Tenement Trail, Glasgow’s annual new music pilgrimage, proved once again why the event organizers are considered saints for the fledgling band.
For a decade now, they’ve been championing the unsung, the undiscovered, and the “soon-to-be-reckoned-with,” offering a crucial stage (or in this case, nine stages) for those who are often still deciding on a band name, never mind a PR strategy.
Fifty artists across nine venues—that’s not just a music festival; that’s a city-wide endurance test for your hearing and liver. And as ever, the crowd, fueled by pizza, Tennent’s Light and the promise of witnessing the next Fontaines D.C., was ready for anything.
Barrowland 2 felt like the epicenter of the mayhem. First up on the stage, YesNoMaybe?, a band name that reads like the internal monologue of a guy on a first date. But don’t be fooled by the playful moniker; these guys are tipped for great things. Their set, capped by a standout track, “God Isn’t Real”, was a masterclass in post-punk energy, tight enough to remind you why you keep coming back to this grime-slicked city for live music. With sharp riffs and a bassline that seemed to make the room vibrate in sympathy, it was clear they’ve graduated from the DIY scene into something much more dangerous.
Over at Van Winkle, Aim For Two delivered the kind of loud music that should come with a health warning. They played like their amps were responsible for keeping the universe from imploding. It was somewhere between stoner rock and a demolition derby, all cranked-up riffs and hollered choruses. “Arrows in the Sky,” their standout track, hit like a meteorite—a great fit for a festival that thrives on chaos.
By the time Dallas Love Field hit the stage at BAaD, it was clear Tenement Trail hadn’t lost its touch. With the atmospheric “Serpentine Road”, they brought a swagger that was somehow both effortless and razor-sharp. Not bad for a group who clearly spent more time rehearsing and honing their craft than coming up with a name that makes sense in Scottish weather.
rEDOLENT returned to Barrowland 2 to remind everyone that melody and noise are not mutually exclusive. The grimey dream-pop soundscapes of “Dinny Greet” drenched in reverb and layered vocals, had the crowd swaying along.
But let’s cut the chase—Curiosity Shop at The Winged Ox stole the entire festival (for us). Their sound, equal parts whimsical folk and experimental blues , stood out like a goth at a communion. “One for the Shirtpocket” hooked the audience like a tractor beam, and by the end, half the room was convinced they’d just witnessed something monumental. With so many finely composed tracks experimenting with a myriad of instruments from; bass, accordion, harmonium and banjo, each woven in to the tapestry of their ethereal soundscapes. This was the kind of band you stumble upon at a festival and smugly tell your friends, “I saw them back when…”
Kilgour, returning to Van Winkle, was a blend of blues, grunge, and existential crises, all delivered with a smirk and the type of self-deprecation that makes Scots so endearing. Their track “Gutter Bug” was both cathartic and destructive, like Nirvana with a hangover.
Meanwhile, Kuleeangee at Barrowland 2 brought an infectious party vibe, the kind of band you dance to before realizing you have no idea how long you’ve been on your feet. They’re yet to release music, but tracks like “Is it Alright?” lit the room up, a clear signal they’re about to crash the scene with something big.
Over at BAaD, The Era played like they were headlining a much bigger venue. With a sound that mixes alt-rock with indie grandeur and the joy of what we have lovingly termed ‘industrial harp’ their performance of “Black Leather Lover” felt like a prophecy—they’re on the cusp of greatness, and if they can keep up this momentum, we’ll all be seeing them on much bigger stages soon.
In the midst of all the chaos at Barrowland 2, Dutch Wine swaggered onto the stage, bringing their own brand of jangly indie shoegaze rock that felt like it was dipped in summer nostalgia. Their song “If I Fall Through the Ceiling” shimmered through the room like sunlight cutting through a cloudy Glasgow afternoon. But the real show-stealer? Their guitarist, who, by all accounts, might have been the hardest working man at the entire festival. Between shredding solos, sprinting around the stage like he was late for a train, and somehow keeping the whole set tight, it was like watching a man possessed by the spirit of every rock ‘n’ roll legend that came before him. If ever there was a trophy for pure, unfiltered effort, Dutch Wine’s guitarist deserved it, probably with a side of ibuprofen.
Meanwhile, at St. Luke’s, Parliamo turned the church-like venue into a raucous confessional. Their eclectic mix of punk and Britpop had everyone moving, and their standout track “Sweet” was a kind of joyous anthem, filled with enough swagger to make even the most stoic in the crowd crack a smile. Parliamo is one of those bands that feels as though they’re about to become synonymous with Glasgow’s ever-evolving music scene.
Back at The Winged Ox, Fright Years delivered a slow-burn set that built up to “Every Weekend,” a song that felt like a 90s grunge outfit wandering through a deserted cityscape. Their melancholic indie rock had the crowd hypnotized, offering a nice contrast to the louder acts around them.
And speaking of standout acts, Lacuna, also at The Winged Ox, put on a powerhouse performance. It’s fantastic to see more female-fronted groups like this emerging, and with tracks like “Sinking Woman”, they made it clear they’re here to challenge the scene’s male-heavy stereotype either their soaring harmonies and quaint Au Revior Simone vibe.
At BAaD, Black Fondu provided a groove-laden set that oozed cool. Their glitchy, industrial power punk track “Another Domestic” was a perfect choice for a room that was quickly filling up with curious onlookers, drawn in by this one man powerhouse wailing into the mic.
Then came the grand finale—Vlure. Before they even took the stage, BAaD was at max capacity, a sweaty mass of bodies ready to be leveled. By the time Psweatpants joined them for the first few songs, the energy in the room was bordering on euphoric. “Shattered Faith” was the track that sent the room into overdrive, a wall of sound that seemed capable of leveling buildings. “Show Me How To Live” had the sizeable crowd clambering onto friends shoulders as the band took to the crowd. The only thing that kept the room from exploding was the fact that Vlure’s set had to, eventually, end.
As the final notes faded, the importance of Tenement Trail in Glasgow’s cultural bloodstream couldn’t have been clearer. It’s a festival for the fringe, the emerging, and the brave—those who’ll be headlining someday and those who’ll remain cult favourites.
As the final note reverberated through the room, it was hard not to feel a sense of awe at what Tenement Trail has built over the past decade. This festival is a vital part of Glasgow’s musical DNA, a place where new bands cut their teeth, old favorites remind us why we fell in love with them, and every moment feels like you’re on the verge of discovering the next big thing.
In the end, Tenement Trail isn’t just a festival—it’s a testament to the fact that new music is still worth the search, the sweat, and, in Glasgow’s case, the rain-soaked journey from one gig to the next. In a world where live music feels increasingly commodified, Tenement Trail stands out as a reminder that the future of music is being forged in these grimy venues, one reckless, beautiful song at a time.
June 2022. I’m at a half-full Hug & Pint, just in time for the support act. A band then unknown to me, and most of those in the room, these openers spend their set thrashing their guitars, leaving the crowd in a welcome sense of sonic bewilderment. Their name? Wunderhorse.
Tonight, barely two years later, that same band is walking out onto the Barrowland stage, greeted by almost two thousand of the fans they’ve won over in that short time. Two albums in, Wunderhorse have managed to walk the tricky line of pushing their songwriting forward while staying true to who they are as musicians, establishing themselves as one of the most promising acts of the decade.
The band tears through a set of songs from both Cub and Midas, creating a formidable wave of guitars and bass crashing down continuously to the joy of the audience. Standout tracks like “Leader of the Pack,” “Teal,” and “Girl Behind the Glass” electrify the room, while the final chorus of fan-favorite “Purple” sees Jacob Slater step back from the microphone, letting the crowd take over vocal duties—a goosebumps moment if ever there was one.
It’s incredible to witness the growth that Wunderhorse has enjoyed in recent years, a reward perhaps for their clear love of their craft. Guitar music has never needed saving, but if anyone had to, I know who I’d be calling first.
Entering the O2 Academy, you’re instantly struck by a sea of t-shirts, half Joy Division, half New Order, with the occasional Peter Hook design thrown in for good measure. It’s a crowd caught between eras, one side mourning the late Ian Curtis, the other celebrating the synth-driven highs of New Order’s evolution. As Hooky himself took the stage, guitar slung low, as always, the atmosphere felt charged—less a gig, more a pilgrimage.
“This is for Ian Curtis,” Peter Hook declares early on, his voice thick with remembrance. “We are here tonight and every other night to commemorate his life—44 years gone. God rest his soul.” It’s a moment that encapsulates the duality of the evening—an act of homage, but also of rebirth. Hook’s voice may not evoke the dark baritone of Curtis, but then, anyone expecting an Ian Curtis impersonation came for the wrong reasons. What you get instead is something equally vital: heart, soul, and a deeply personal connection to the material.
The night kicked off with New Order classics—Regret, Crystal, and What Do You Want From Me—each one a reminder of the band’s evolution post-Joy Division, shimmering with synths and punchy rhythms. Hooky’s voice is distinct, rough around the edges compared to Bernard Sumner’s smoother delivery, but that raggedness adds a raw, emotional energy to the performance. Crystal, in particular, felt defiant, the pulsating rhythm matched by the bouncing bodies in the audience.
What followed was a full dive into the Substance albums of both New Order and JoyDivision, the setlist a near-perfect balance between Hook’s two musical lives. The biggest hits naturally stood out—Temptation, Bizarre Love Triangle, and the towering Blue Mondaysent shockwaves through the Academy. Each one was performed with an urgency that belied their decades-old release dates, proof that these tracks, in Hook’s hands, are as vital as ever.
After a short intermission, the second half took a darker, more introspective turn, as Hook led the crowd through some of Joy Division’s most iconic tracks. Heart and Soul, Transmission, She’s Lost Control, and Shadowplay all served as stark reminders of the band’s genius. Here, the mood shifted from nostalgia to something heavier, more profound—an elegy for what was lost and a celebration of what remains. Hook’s bassline on Transmission throbbed through the crowd like a living thing, while She’s Lost Controlwas frenetic, a controlled chaos that seemed to mirror Curtis’ own struggles.
As the night drew to a close, the inevitable happened—the opening chords of Love Will Tear Us Apart rang out, and the entire Academy erupted. It was a fitting finale, one of those rare moments where a song transcends the years and becomes something more, a connection not just between the audience and the band, but with the spirit of Curtis himself.
It’s impossible to ignore the gravity of a Peter Hook and the Light show. This is not a nostalgia act nor a carbon copy of what came before. It’s something deeply personal, a testament to the enduring power of both Joy Division and New Order, seen through the lens of one of their key architects. And as Hook’s guitar hung improbably low, his voice straining in all the right places, you were reminded that this is his legacy too—a living, breathing one at that.
If there is music that can break out and yet exist in that quiet, probable space between the Earth and the stars… then it is the work of Joan As Police Woman.
A force of nature created by and reflecting the tragedy and beauty of life, the songs of Joan Wasser fill St Luke’s with a fragility and strength that leaves the audience spellbound, and at times, the singer visibly emotional.
The new songs from the current album Lemons, Limes and Orchids feature heavily, aptly beginning with “The Dream” and ending with an encore that includes “Real Life.”
Quivering between hope and despair, songs like “Long to Ruin,” “Eternal Flame,” and “Started for Free” are perfect platforms for her mesmerising voice, delicate drums, guitar, and keyboard to deliver their message.
The decision to have two sets was inspired and allows the audience to mingle (as instructed) and discuss their shared experience. There is a sense of dismay that Joan As Police Woman isn’t playing far, far larger venues, and that she is not universally known. There is also a sense of gratitude that one can be in such close proximity to an artist at their peak — an artist who has collaborated with Lou Reed, John Cale, Rufus Wainwright, Tony Allen, David Byrne, Damon Albarn, Beck… the list goes on.
Those who are here know… and those who don’t will eventually find out.
It was one of those “I was there” nights.
Joan As Police Woman plays Edinburgh in January 2025. Be there.
At Stereo in Glasgow, Bedouin Soundclash delivered a show so intimate and engaging, it was hard to believe this was a band with over 14 million Spotify listens—and even harder to believe they hadn’t sold out the small venue. It’s a head-scratcher for sure, but the fans who did show up were treated to a masterclass in genre-bending brilliance from a band that’s as tight-knit as ever.
Celebrating the 20th anniversary of their breakout album Sounding a Mosaic, this Canadian trio—Jay Malinowski on vocals and guitar, Eon Sinclair on bass, and Chuck Treece on drums—showed that their blend of reggae, punk, and indie rock is as fresh as it was two decades ago. The show was a celebration of longevity, of three friends who started making music in Toronto’s Kensington Market and are now still thriving, touring, and clearly enjoying every moment.
Right from the start, Jay’s soulful, raspy voice paired perfectly with Eon’s deep, pulsing basslines, and Chuck’s effortless drumming provided the heartbeat of the night. Their chemistry was undeniable, and their infectious energy spilled into the crowd immediately, with opening track “Shelter” setting the tone for a night of grooves, banter, and a whole lot of fun.
Throughout the set, the band kept the vibe casual, punctuating songs with playful banter and the kind of easy rapport that only comes from years of friendship. At one point, they invited a random “other Canadian” from the audience—who, bizarrely enough, had campaigned for the SNP—on stage for some laughs. Later, a Glasgow local named John was welcomed up, and the crowd learned that 20 years ago, he accidentally wandered into the low-budget video shoot for “When the Night Feels My Song.” Since then, he’s kept an eye on the band, and tonight, he got to share the stage them during that very song—a beautiful full-circle moment that had the room buzzing.
Musically, the night flowed effortlessly from one standout track to the next. “Rude Boys Don’t Cry” brought an infectious ska rhythm that had the audience bouncing, while “St. Andrew’s” and “New Year’s Day”—yes, a U2 cover, reimagined with their signature reggae-infused style—had everyone in the room singing along. Eon’s bass on “Money Worries” was especially hypnotic, grounding the song’s laid-back vibe, and “Jeb Rand” saw Chuck flex his drumming chops, driving the tempo with precision and flair.
As the set wound down, the band delivered a powerful trio of “Brutal Hearts,” “Salt Water,” and of course, “When the Night Feels My Song,” with John from Glasgow playing a special role in the final track. The chemistry between the band and their audience was palpable, with Jay’s heartfelt delivery, Eon’s rhythmic command, and Chuck’s steady backbeat creating a perfect harmony. The energy was so electric that you almost forgot the 10 p.m. curfew looming over the night.
Unfortunately, the planned encore had to be cut short due to venue restrictions, but the band closed with “Nothing to Say,” a mellow, soul-soaked track that felt like the perfect gentle farewell. Despite the early finish, the night was anything but anticlimactic. It was clear Bedouin Soundclash—20 years in and still going strong—are thriving on the road, delivering a show that felt as much like a celebration of friendship as it did a musical journey across genres.
A bitter wind blew through Glasgow’s Great Western Road, but inside The Hug and Pint, the atmosphere was ablaze.
The night began with Glasgow’s own Moni Jitchell, who took to the stage with an energy that could hardly be contained by the small venue. Their set was loud, unapologetically so, shaking the walls of The Hug and Pintright from the start. Moni Jitchell’s brand of post-punk, drenched in distortion and attitude, made for a fitting opener, setting the tone for an evening that would be anything but quiet. Their jagged riffs and raw vocals had the crowd buzzing early, a solid warm-up for the intensity that was about to follow with Benefits.
Just a few weeks ago, we’d stumbled upon Benefits supporting Arab Strap at the legendary Barrowlands—an encounter that felt less like a support slot and more like a meteor crash. And since then? Well, we’ve fallen in love with them. No other way to put it. Benefits don’t play to impress—they play like they’re ripping out their own guts for you, laying them bare on the sticky stage floor. And last night, they bled out beautifully.
Kingsley Hall stepped onto the stage like he owned it, wearing shorts and a Pacha T-shirt, the unlikely mix of island party and Teeside grit somehow fitting perfectly. On a cold Scottish night, it was clear Benefits brought their own heat, the kind that simmers beneath sharp-edged lyrics and snarling guitars.
Like Arab Strap, they sing in their hometown accents, proudly. That unmistakable sound of place isn’t just a choice—it’s a badge of working-class identity that colors their music with an extra layer of grit and defiance.
They kicked off with Constant Noise, a spoken-word piece that felt more like a battle cry than a song. Kingsley’s words were a relentless stream of consciousness, brimming with frustration, anger, and dark humour. His delivery was that of a tortured poet, the kind who would shout from a rooftop if it meant waking people up to the madness all around. The audience didn’t just listen; they were drawn in, absorbed by the intensity of his words.
Latest single, Land of the Tyrants came next, with a strobe-heavy performance that matched the song’s abrasive energy. The strobe lights added a frantic quality, freezing Kingsley’s movements in flashes as he prowled the stage. His delivery bordered on manic, but it suited the track’s theme of unraveling anger and defiance.
The set was a blistering mix of tracks from their debut Nails and the tantalizingly hotly anticipated follow-up (due to be released in March).
Warhorse charged ahead with the intensity of, well, a warhorse galloping through broken glass—teeth bared, unrelenting. When Divide and Flag hit, the room transformed into a choir of defiance, the crowd chanting back the words with the same indignation. It was as if the lyrics were communal property, passed between band and the audience like ammunition in the face of some unseen enemy.
Amidst the relentless onslaught, there was a sharp, unexpected departure—a track dedicated to RM Hubbert and Aidan Moffat, both fellow Scots and tortured bards of our times. The slower song—a lullaby in the middle of the storm—was a reminder that even in chaos, there’s space for vulnerability. The haunting Dancing on Tables was delivered with such fierce emotion that every note felt like a sob caught in the throat. You could feel the weight of it in the air, cutting through the night.
After a brief interlude where Robbie Major – pedal tickler and purveyor of noise grabbed a violin—because of course, in a band like this, even the quiet moments are poised on the edge of something—they dove into Taking Us Back. Melancholic, aching, the song unfolded like a beautiful bruise, the violin’s oscillating wail slicing through the guitars and the countless effects pedals that by this point, I’d lost count of (I think they might’ve topped 15).
Finally, after 90 minutes of relentless beauty, they closed with Traitors. It was a fitting epitaph, an industrial anthem that stamped their name in the annals of post-rock chaos. The room was filled with a glorious wall of noise, a sound so huge it felt like it could swallow you whole and spit you back out in pieces. The effect pedals, the drum loops, the sheer energy of two lads from Teeside somehow bringing the party like seasoned club veterans—it was a scene of glorious, bitter chaos.
Benefits might sing about the world’s ugliness, but what they create is something close to transcendence. They’re the tortured poets of our time, tearing beauty out of the darkest places and handing it to you like a fistful of broken glass. Beautiful, sharp, and utterly unforgettable.
Last night at Glasgow’s iconic Barrowland Ballroom, Godspeed You! Black Emperor (hereafter referred to as GY!BE, since even the band’s name feels like an epic) put on a show that could have easily doubled as a sonic séance or the soundtrack to the last apocalypse. For those who don’t know, the band’s name is inspired by a 1976 Japanese documentary about a biker gang, but frankly, the nine-member ensemble could have just as easily taken their name from a film about intergalactic space travel. If there’s a band out there that sounds more like the last signals of a dying star, I’ve yet to hear them.
But let’s back up. Yes, nine people. You read that right. This band brings so many musicians on stage, you start wondering if they’re running a DIY community or an avant-garde music cooperative. Each of them has a very specific role: one drummer plays a regular kit while another occasionally picks up a saw (you know, as drummers do), and the rest rotate between violins, guitars, basses, and a variety of mysterious stringed things I’m not entirely sure even have names.
Towards the back of the audience one visual technician is frantically switching between four Super 8 projectors, because, naturally, music like this can’t happen without visuals of grainy peace slogans flickering on the walls like coded messages from some secret, long-gone civilization.
The show begins with “Hope Drone,” which sounds less like a musical composition and more like something the Voyager probe picked up on its way out of the solar system. GY!BE doesn’t so much take the stage as descend upon it—wrapped in shadows, barely visible, as though even the idea of stage presence is too bourgeois for them.
The only real illumination comes from the Super 8 films spinning behind them, which is just as well since it matches the mood of the music: stark, mysterious, and possibly apocalyptic. Oh, and they asked the bar staff to dim the lights, because who needs to see what they’re drinking when you’ve got music like this to melt your brain?
The thing about a GY!BE show is that it defies the basic laws of rock concerts. There are no lyrics to sing along to (unless you want to try chanting “SUN IS A HOLE, SUN IS VAPORS” at your friends), and there’s no discernible verse-chorus structure to guide you. Instead, the band constructs vast soundscapes that build slowly, like glaciers grinding their way through the terrain, only to suddenly explode into a wall of noise that leaves the audience feeling like they’ve just been caught in a thunderstorm. The music is dynamic in the truest sense: quiet, eerie strings give way to distorted guitars, which give way to drums pounding like they’re scoring the fall of an empire.
The highlight of the evening came in the last 30 minutes, where—as any good GY!BE fan knows—things get real noisy. One of the drummers (the one who occasionally picks up a saw, because of course there’s a saw involved) decides it’s time to summon the thunderclouds and returns to his kit with a ferocity that makes you wonder if he’s been communing with some ancient weather god. Meanwhile, violins screech like alien communication, guitars loop on endlessly, and you start to feel like you’re floating somewhere between Earth and deep space. Somewhere in the madness, a few fans shout out from the crowd, but their voices are swallowed up by the avalanche of sound. At a GY!BE gig, this is as rowdy as it gets.
And then, almost as suddenly as it began, it’s over. No encore. No goodbye. Just a long distorted outro that sees various band members fiddle with some knobs on monitors creating a final note of distortion that’s left hanging in the air like the last remnants of a cosmic event. The crowd stumbles out into the night, dazed, confused, and wondering if what they just experienced was a concert or an art installation that somehow tore open the fabric of reality?
Here’s the thing about GY!BE: it’s not about catchy tunes or crowd-pleasers. They demand your attention, pulling you deep into their world of feedback, drones, and orchestral flourishes. And sure, it’s a little weird. A little intimidating. But it’s bold, it’s breathtaking, and it’s unlike anything else out there. At the end of the day, if you didn’t leave feeling like you’d just had your heartstrings and brain cells rearranged by alien forces, were you really even at a GY!BE show?
Friday night in Stirling. This ancient city has been a prominent backdrop to Scotland’s history, a witness to the rise and fall of many Kings and Queens. Tonight though, in the Albert Halls, nestled beside the castle, another type of Scottish royalty lay claim to the city.
A small venue for Franz Ferdinand, Stirling’s Albert Halls provides the ideal setting for the band and fans to get a little closer. This short run of shows in lesser-played locations gives the band the opportunity to christen new material, including the bubbly and defiant Audacious, the lead single from newly-announced sixth LP “The Human Fear”. While these new songs don’t quite provoke the same response as classics like “Take Me Out,” the band continue to pour their energy into them and perform them as proudly as any of their hits.
It would be remiss to describe Alex Kapranos plainly as a frontman; he’s a showman, an entertainer, and – chatting away with the audience you almost feel – an old pal. Twenty years on from Franz Ferdinand’s beloved debut, their hits still have the crowd bouncing and vying to out-sing the band themselves. Tonight, away from arena shows and festival headliners, there’s an understated confidence to the band, an assurance both in themselves as artists, and in the security of their own spot in Scottish history.
The Golden Bough 