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.

Words & Images : Angela Canavan

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 Pint right 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.

Catch them on tour, if you are lucky enough.

Words: Angela Canavan & Fran T

Pictures: Angela Canavan

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?

Images & Words: Angela Canavan

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.

Words & Images: Elliot Hetherton

An isolated figure stands at the center of St Luke’s stage, clutching a microphone and singing deeply over the sounds of a synth keyboard.

Hawk captivates the crowd with his baritone vocals and direct eye contact during “JULIET AS EPITHET.” Three crashes of the cymbals lead into the next song, “MACHIAVELLI’S ROOM.” The bass and guitar players move in sync, swaying back and forth as Hawk takes the forefront, delivering the lyrics, “when you’re naked from the waist down.” This was one of the heavier songs of the set, featuring synthetic sounds, backing vocals, and guitar stabs during the outro. Hamish Hawk and his band aren’t shy about moving around on stage, creating an impressive stage presence throughout the set.

“BIG CAT TATTOOS” shifts to a more upbeat tempo, lifting the atmosphere in the room. During “I THINK YOU’D PREFER A FIRMER HAND,” Hawk presents jazz hands to the crowd.

“Glasgow, Glasgow, Glasgow. Oh yes. Hello… are we well? Oh, good. My name’s Hamish Hawk, we’re Hamish Hawk, and we’re just thrilled to be here. Thank you so much for coming.” The crowd cheers.

The band is a dynamic group with an incredible sense of rhythm, moving seamlessly from short intros into instant bangers. Their sound draws heavily from 80s influences, while incorporating the drama of modernity, creating a distinctive, fun, and unique musical experience.

Images & Words: Rose McEnroe

It’s a packed house tonight at the iconic Glasgow Barrowlands, and from the very first note, there’s a palpable sense of anticipation in the air. Kicking things off is Teesside duo Benefits, the perfect warm-up act for what’s to come.

Their stripped-back setup—a stark fusion of electronic beats and jagged, urgent guitar riffs—forms the backdrop for a vocalist who seems to channel every ounce of anger and frustration into each line. Their performance is raw, visceral, and utterly gripping, dripping with a kind of feral energy that feels almost too big for the stage, let alone the support slot. They’re a force to be reckoned with, and for those unfamiliar, their upcoming UK tour in October is an absolute must-see.

After the adrenaline-charged set from Benefits, the room swells with excitement as Arab Strap take to the stage. There’s a certain comfort to the way Aidan Moffat and Malcolm Middleton settle into the spotlight; it’s the ease of veterans who know exactly how to command the attention of a sold-out Barrowlands crowd.

Tonight, they’re showcasing tracks from their latest album, I’m Totally Fine With It 👍 Don’t Give a Fuck Anymore, released earlier this year. It’s a record that, much like their live show, blends moments of melancholy with bursts of dark humour and irreverence, delivered with the sardonic wit we’ve come to love and expect from Moffat.

Opening with Allatonceness, a sprawling, hypnotic number, Arab Strap immediately establish the duality that defines their sound: the slow-burning, moody atmospherics juxtaposed with Moffat’s biting, spoken-word delivery. As the set progresses, the energy never dips.

Moffat’s stage presence is as always – magnetic, his baritone weaving tales of everyday despair and fleeting joy, all while the band maintains a steady, undulating groove behind him. There’s always something happening on stage—Middleton’s intricate guitar work cutting through the gloom, the rhythm section locked in tight, keeping everything anchored.

Highlights from the set include the haunting Girls of the Summer, the shimmering melancholy of Strawberry Moon, and the acerbic bite of Drag Queen, each track showcasing the band’s ability to move fluidly between wistful introspection and searing, confrontational power. But it’s Fable of the Urban Fox that truly stands out—a devastating slow burn that builds to a cathartic crescendo, leaving the crowd spellbound.

After a short encore, Aidan and Malcolm return to the stage alone for a stripped-down performance of You’re Not There and the fan favourite The Shy Retirer. The intimacy of these songs, paired with the sparse arrangement, makes for a poignant contrast to the evening’s heavier moments. The rest of the band joins them for the finale, Soaps, a crowd-pleaser that sees the Barrowlands erupt in a joyous, raucous singalong.

There’s something undeniably special about Arab Strap live. The interplay of bleakness and humour, despair and euphoria, creates a dynamic that few bands can match. It’s that unique mix of dour Scottish wit and sweeping, cinematic soundscapes that keeps their audience—tonight, a sea of die-hard fans—coming back for more. As the final notes fade and the crowd filters out into the Glasgow night, you can’t help but feel that PEOPLE REALLY DO MAKE GLASGOW.

Photos : Rose McEnroe

Words: Angela Canavan & Rose McEnroe

Scottish national treasures “TEXAS” kickstart the heart of a mid September, Sunday night at Glasgow’s OVO Hydro as the band get together to preform “The Very Best Of” their entire catalogue of hits.

This live music extravaganza delivered an evening of pop rock, laughter and good spirit as front woman of your dreams Sharleen Spiteri engages the audience like no other with her interactive conversations with audience members – notably a comical moment from Sharleen as she sympathies with a visibly shorter woman in the audience, explaining she knows the feeling “been there! Let her up on your shoulders” she’s now directly speaking to the man beside the shorter woman.

The man must have looked reluctant to do such a thing and turned to the woman who was stood beside him. We quickly came to the understanding that the man has got absolutely no idea who the shorter woman is and has come to the concert with his wife “who’s this?… Oh that’s your wife!” laughter emerges from the audience as if we’re sat in the room watching a comedian. It’s okay Sharleen, your heart was in the right place.

The band not only look great, dressed like true 80s rockers in leather jackets, black denim and sparkling tailoring but also sound phenomenal, with light yet flexibly deep vocal tones, infused with breathy backing vocals and the subtle sounds of the drumming, bass and guitar working in conjunction to create the perfect sing along melodies the audience are clearly enthralled by. Stand out tracks included; “Black Eyed Boy”, “Summer Son” and “Inner Smile”.

The entire night was uplifting and TEXAS are a band that are a must see. 

Gossip open their set with ‘Listen Up!’, as if snapping their fingers in the face of the audience, commanding them exactly where to direct their attention (not that they need much encouragement).

That grip on the crowd is one that doesn’t slip throughout the night, as the setlist sees the indie-rockers give a flying tour of both their beloved back catalogue and their 2024 comeback LP Real Power, all received with enthusiasm by an adoring audience.

At times perhaps stop-and-start, the set is peppered with Beth Ditto’s offerings of jokes, anecdotes, and the odd attempt at a Scottish accent.

The whole evening feels like one big reunion between old friends, with bit the band and the audience clearly loving every minute of it.

While a twelve year gap between albums may leave some bands eager to prove themselves, Gossip come across as assured in themselves, and relaxed in their performance- well, at least as much as one can be while performing Standing In The Way Of Control.

Words & Photos: Elliot Hetherton

Sister Madds burst onto the King Tut’s stage to the euphoric sound of Girls Just Wanna Have Fun, tearing into their set and immediately heightening the energy in the room.

For the duration of their set they keep that energy on a tight leash, doling out more and more to the audience with each song, solo, and singalong.

Having only released their first single Split Ends last year, Sister Madds have clearly built up a keen fanbase, out in force tonight in a packed, raucous room.

The band’s work infuses poppy melodies with heavier, rockier sounds, tied together by lead singer Maddie’s honest yet playful lyrics. Sister Madd’s set is unbelievably tight, each song building on the strength and buzz of the last while still leaving the audience pleading for more. By the end of the night everyone – not just the girls – did indeed get their fun. 

Words & Pictures: Elliot Hetherton

Sleater-Kinney’s return to SWG3 in Glasgow felt less like a rock concert and more like a time machine that transported us back to an era when music was about rebellion, identity, and the glorious mess of girlhood.

Watching Carrie Brownstein and Corin Tucker—who’ve been the heroines of riot grrrl since before the Spice Girls made “girl power” a household phrase—was like seeing the North Star on a stormy night. They’ve always been there, guiding those lost in the wilderness of the music industry, refusing to follow trends, instead setting their own.

The night opened with “Hell” from their latest sonic manifesto, Path of Wellness, a track that snarls and smirks in equal measure. It was quickly followed by “Needlessly Wild,” which showcased the band’s well-honed talent for blending chaos with melody, aggression with harmony. Sleater-Kinney is the ultimate girl group, not just because of the way they embody the power of female friendship, but because of how they command the stage with an effortless cool that’s the antithesis of today’s overproduced pop spectacles.

What’s striking about Sleater-Kinney—this current incarnation of the band—is how tight their set is, how flawlessly they play off each other, a kind of telepathic communication honed over decades. Brownstein’s guitar is a weapon, her stage presence a mixture of punk bravado and art-school intellect. Tucker’s voice, as always, is a force of nature, soaring and scowling, leading the charge. The band was backed by an ensemble of equally cool women, a sort of riot grrrl militia, ensuring that the sound was as dense and urgent as ever.

The set was a gargantuan trawl through their sizeable back catalogue, from the punchy immediacy of “Hurry on Home” to the defiant melancholy of “Good Thing” and the seismic rumble of “No Cities to Love.” There was a collective laugh from the audience when the band joked about “thanking you all for coming out to see us on the eve of the Oasis reunion tour,” a nod to both their sly sense of humor and the fact that, no, Sleater-Kinney never needed to be anyone but themselves to pack a venue.

As the night went on, the intensity ramped up with iconic fan favorites like “Jumpers,” “Say It Like You Mean It,” and the gut-punching “Quarter to Three.” These are songs that have become anthems not just of a movement, but of the lives of the women who’ve found themselves through the music, who’ve screamed these lyrics at a world that never quite knew what to do with them. Here, in Glasgow, that ethos of girlhood, that underpinning riot grrrl spirit, was alive and crackling in the air.

The band debuted “Turn It On,” a new track that had to be restarted after a slight timing hiccup, a moment that only endeared them further to the crowd. It was a reminder that even legends are human, and that’s what makes them so important. Perfection isn’t the goal; it’s the raw, unfiltered emotion that counts.

They closed the set with “Modern Girl” and “Untidy Creature,” both delivered with a fervor that suggested they might just burn the place down and dance in the ashes. But the crowd, electrified and unwilling to let go, demanded more. The encore was a triumphant trifecta: “The Centre Won’t Hold,” “Dig Me Out,” and “Entertain”—songs that encapsulate everything Sleater-Kinney has always stood for: resistance, solidarity, and the pure, unadulterated joy of making noise.

Sleater-Kinney doesn’t just perform; they remind us of what it means to be alive in a patriarchal world that often feels intent on pushing us down. And in a city like Glasgow, with its history of grit and resilience, that message couldn’t have felt more relevant—or more welcome.

Words: Angela Canavan

Pictures: Angela Canavan