The Golden Bough

Ah, Chalk… if you’ve bumped into me since November then the likelihood of me sporting my Chalk T-shirt and giving you a quick debrief on how utterly fantastic this band are live is probably very high!

The first time I encountered these Belfast bruisers, it was courtesy of a well-informed friend who suggested we get down early for Sprints to catch them opening the show. Dutifully, I arrived, lager in hand, fully expecting the usual support-band shuffle—earnest but forgettable. Instead, what I got was a full-body baptism in bass frequencies that left me somewhere between spiritually moved and in need of a defibrillator.

Fast forward to tonight, and Chalk are back in Glasgow, ready to kick off their Conditions tour, celebrating the final chapter of their EP trilogy. Any self-respecting band these days has to have a trilogy—if Star Wars gets one, why not some men in black making post-punk for the disaffected youth? But unlike George Lucas, Chalk actually got better as they went along.

Opening tonight’s show was noteworthy Makeshift Art Bar. You know when you see a support band and think, “They’re gonna be massive in a few years?” That was the vibe. The Belfast four-piece take to the stage with all the nervous energy of a school assembly before quickly morphing into something thrillingly defiant. The frontman is a wiry ball of tension, equal parts Ian Curtis and someone about to start a bar fight over existential philosophy. Jangly, moody, but with an undercurrent of danger, they carve out a sound that’s jagged, raw, and compulsively watchable. Their latest single, Bedwetter, sends ripples through the crowd—half bemused, half exhilarated—as if no one was quite prepared for just how good this lot are. Testament, then, to Belfast’s uncanny ability to produce bands that could soundtrack the apocalypse.

Lazy journalism will tell you that Chalk sound like Idles, in the same way that lazy journalism once tried to convince us that Kasabian sounded like Primal Scream (they didn’t). Yes, both bands have guitars, volume, and the ability to make sweaty men flail their limbs in a barely controlled frenzy—but while Idles deliver a kind of beer-swilling group therapy session, Chalk sound like they’ve locked themselves in a nuclear bunker with nothing but a drum machine and a deep-seated sense of existential dread. It’s techno-punk, sure, but with the industrial menace of early Nine Inch Nails and the hypnotic relentlessness of Underworld. If Idles are shouting at the pub landlord about the price of a pint, Chalk are lurking in the corner, whispering something sinister that makes you want to check your bank account for fraudulent transactions.

They arrive on stage not with a bang, but with a brooding cinematic tension—Leipzig 87 swelling ominously as the crowd collectively holds its breath. And then—BANG. From the first onslaught of noise, it’s clear this first night of the bands headline tour is a celebrating of what they have been striving for over the past few years as a band. It’s a subterranean rave where the DJ has been replaced by a man exorcising his demons through a distortion pedal.

Ross Cullen, looking suspiciously fresh-faced in a sparkly top, prowls the stage like a malfunctioning android before launching himself into the crowd, where he proceeds to deliver his guttural prose from the belly of the audience. At various points, he is crawling on the floor, punching the stage, or perched atop the crush barrier, as if possessed by some techno-punk poltergeist. The energy is unmatched—part feral, part meticulously calculated chaos.

Stand out tracks of the evening were; Static – A relentless, body-shaking assault of dark synths and hammering percussion. Feels like being trapped in a strobe-lit Berlin basement, the walls pulsing in time with your impending nervous breakdown.

Bliss – A rare moment of beauty amidst the noise, like watching a city burn from a safe distance. Vulnerable, cinematic, and still carrying that weighty, industrial menace.

Asking – A brutalist masterpiece. The sonic equivalent of a concrete high-rise collapsing in slow motion, all tension and release, thudding bass and piercing, distorted vocals.

Tell Me – Personal favourite alert. This one slithers and builds, an eerie synth undercurrent giving way to a punishingly loud crescendo. It’s like a Depeche Mode track that got lost in the seediest corners of Berghain.

Midway through the set, Chalk road-test some new material—three untitled tracks, still classified as if they were state secrets. The first, in particular, stands out—a swirling, cinematic piece that feels like the Never Ending Story theme, but as remixed for a 4AM warehouse rave in East Berlin. If this is a taste of the next chapter, the Conditions trilogy may have been just the warm-up act.

And then, just as suddenly as it began, it’s over. “This is our last song. No encores,” Ross declares before launching into Conditions—a song that somehow manages to be dreamy, vulnerable, and absolutely devastating all at once. It’s a farewell that leaves your ears ringing and the entire audience keen for more, the musical equivalent of being dumped via an incredibly poetic text message.

Chalk are on tour in the UK and Europe until April, and if you have even the vaguest interest in hearing what the inside of a dystopian nightclub feels like, go. Because soon, these lads will be playing venues where the beer is £9 a pint and the bouncers have earpieces. And when that happens, you’ll wish you’d seen them in a sweat-drenched basement while you still had the chance…

Article: Angela Canavan

Tonight’s support comes in the shape of the svelte and effortlessly debonair Cosmic Crooner. Wearing a wide-lapelled, flared trouser suit, imagine a young Alain Delon mixed with Nick Cave—then add a little Serge Gainsbourg stardust, and there you have it. A soft, velvet-coated soundtrack transports you to another time and place. Close your eyes, and you could be in an open-top car on La Grande Corniche, the sun beating down and cicadas chirping.

Moving effortlessly across the stage, engaging with the crowd in an almost tongue-in-cheek fashion, the Cosmic Crooner is instantly captivating and utterly addictive. A short yet beautifully cinematic set of songs and moments—each one drawing you in, making you connect and smile.

Since emerging in 2017, Mattiel has continued on her genre-defying journey. She is an ever-evolving and multi-layered artist, difficult to pin down—certainly musically. Since moving from Atlanta, Georgia, to Firenze, Italy, she has developed into a solo artist, spearheading her own path. Tonight sees her performing to a packed and expectant Glasgow crowd who probably aren’t entirely sure what to expect. There’s some chatter that Mattiel has “gone country,” likely due to her most recent Nashville-recorded release.

What happens next is as unexpected as it is surprising. A dazzling and distinctly non-country version of Baby Brother from her first album ignites the set, reimagined so dramatically that it takes me a moment to recognise it. It is brilliantly assured and serenely confident, delivered with a swagger more Beastie Boys than you could ever have imagined—reminiscent of Mattiel’s cover of Looking Down the Barrel of a Gun. As the night progresses, a truly reverent audience witnesses a blistering performance, featuring a string of elegantly crafted new songs: Heartbreak Heatwave, Fine to Die, Victim for My Love. The themes are more direct, more personal, and the vibrato in her voice has been replaced with a clarity and razor-sharp fragility that allow the songs to shine. Her voice remains as pure and hauntingly timeless as ever, and with Laurence Hammerton on guitar, this is the perfect package.

Mattiel has seamlessly grown into her role as a solo artist. Having seen her live several times, it’s clear she has gained confidence and ability. Touring with Jack White, Tame Impala, and Jeff Goldblum’s Mildred Snitzer Orchestra has certainly helped her learn the ropes and receive any necessary validation. Work on the new album is well underway, and based on tonight’s performance, it promises to be magnificent. There’s a line in one of the new songs that goes something like, “I’m a professional at hide and seek.” As an artist who improves year on year, Mattiel holds a lot of jokers in her back pocket, and I’m sure she has a few aces up her sleeve. I can’t wait to see what her next move is. Whatever you do—expect the unexpected….

Words: Nick Tammer

Images: Chris Hogge

Scotland’s own Nina Nesbitt was thrilled to be performing in Glasgow on a Friday night, though, as she told the crowd, she almost didn’t make it. A landslide on the West Coast Main Line nearly derailed her appearance, but thanks to a last-minute sprint—helped by a chance meeting with audience members Keith and Jacqueline from Hexham—she arrived just in time.

Resplendent in a flowing white dress and tartan repurposed from a recent Burns supper, Nesbitt’s set was defined by her impressive use of alternately tuned guitars. While she admitted this approach made writing her latest album, Mountain Music, easier, she joked about the logistical challenges of touring with so many instruments. Nonetheless, her seamless transitions between them showcased her artistic prowess and songwriting skills, particularly on the tracks from this new album that dominated her support slot.

Opening with Pages, she then dedicated Mansion to all the beautiful ladies in the audience. Anger picked up the pace with its anthemic, Sam Fender-esque chorus, earning nods of approval when she sang, “Oh, you told me I’m not pretty when I swear. Well, fuck you.”

By the midway point, the Hydro was full, with plenty of love for the band she’s touring with. She dedicated Good Years, her single released that very day, to Snow Patrol before delivering a heartfelt cover of Dougie MacLean’s Caledonia—a perfect opportunity for camera lights to fill the arena. She closed with I’m Driving Home, an ode to returning to Glasgow, leaving the crowd with a sense that tonight, Nina Nesbitt was truly home.

It has been six years since Snow Patrol’s last album, Wildness, and the accompanying tour. With the release of The Forest is the Path, the band is back on the road across Europe, but tonight in Glasgow feels like a true homecoming. As frontman Gary Lightbody tells the enthralled crowd, the band spent 14 years in Scotland—including a decade in Glasgow—where the city’s vibrant music scene helped shape them.

Appropriately, they open with the anthemic Take Back the City. Lightbody is in fine voice, quickly captivating the sold-out crowd and conducting them with ease. Chocolate, from their 2003 breakthrough album The Final Straw, follows, before the 2011 track Called Out in the Dark sees Lightbody leading the crowd in an a cappella chorus. The new song All is One is introduced with the caveat that the audience might not know it, but they sing along with enthusiasm regardless.

Ironically, it’s Lightbody who forgets the opening words to Crack the Shutters. Demonstrating his easy showmanship and humour, he tells the lighting crew not to dim the spotlight so he can sit in his shame. The second attempt is flawless, and the crowd cheers him on with warm support.

A huge, digitised Martha Wainwright appears projected behind the band for the melancholic Set the Fire to the Third Bar. Her haunting vocals blend seamlessly with Lightbody’s, creating a moment so powerful it feels as though she is there in person.

The beautifully melodic Run sounds as fresh as it did 25 years ago when it was written in this very city. Lightbody dedicates it to Glasgow, and as the arena lights up with swaying mobile phones, an emotional connection is cemented between the band and their audience.

A sheer curtain falls in front of the stage, creating a visually stunning backdrop for the recent single The Beginning and The Lightning Strike (What If This Storm Ends?). As a digital tree grows and then disintegrates into confetti-like leaves, swirling in Kandinsky-esque hurricanes, the band’s ethereal melodies and haunting vocals match the striking imagery perfectly.

Their note-perfect performance is all the more impressive considering that pianist and guitarist Johnny McDaid recently underwent surgery after getting his hand caught in a train door. Despite this, he plays flawlessly, never missing a beat.

Open Your Eyes provides another chance for the enthusiastic Glasgow crowd to join in, its anthemic finish raising the energy in the arena even further. During Make This Go On Forever, the audience mistakenly cheers for what they believe is the song’s finale, prompting Lightbody to joke that it has more endings than The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King—and they’re not quite there yet.

The crowd remains engaged as old favourite Shut Your Eyes and the new track Everything’s Here and Not Lost keep the momentum going. But it’s Chasing Cars—the most-played song of the 2000s—that truly unites the audience. With every hand in the air and thousands singing along, the song still resonates as powerfully as ever.

High-energy singalong favourite You’re All I Have provides a fitting finale, but the night isn’t over yet. As the band returns for the encore, Lightbody beams, “For crying out loud, Glasgow, you’ve done it again. Unbelievable!” They close the show with the new song But I’ll Keep Trying and fan-favourite Just Say Yes.

As Lightbody recalls, when he arrived in Glasgow earlier this week, he felt baptised by the Glasgow rain and thought, “This is fucking Glasgow.” And indeed, tonight is a celebration of everything that makes this city, and its music, so special. Snow Patrol has returned home—and Glasgow can’t wait to welcome them back again.

Images: John Younge

Words: Marie Hendry

Spanish indie rock band Hinds returned to Glasgow for a sold-out show at Saint Luke’s, thanks in part to their dedicated fans spreading the word across social media.

Supporting them was Stockholm-based band Clutter, fresh from releasing their debut singles. Their grunge-inspired sound set the perfect tone for an incredible night.

What better way to hype up the crowd than by opening with “Hi, How Are You?” from their latest album VIVA HINDS.

Right from the start, the chemistry between Carlotta Cosials and Ana García Perrote—both on vocals and guitar—was undeniable. But it was during “Boom Boom Back”, with its unmistakable Strokes influence, that I truly felt transported from listening at home to experiencing the raw energy of their live performance. It was electrifying—giving me goosebumps from the sheer power they brought to the stage.

The set continued with more tracks from VIVA HINDS, including “Coffee” and “Stranger”, while the band took moments to chat with fans and express their gratitude for such a warm welcome back.

Of course, no Hinds show would be complete without hits from previous albums. The bittersweet “Good Bad Times” and the high-energy “Burn” had the crowd singing along, followed by Spanish tracks like “Spanish Bomb” and “En Forma” to close out the night.

Having always missed their previous shows in Glasgow, I was thrilled to finally see Hinds live—and they did not disappoint. Their performance made my day infinitely better.

Article: Marco Cornelli

Biig Piig, aka Jessica Smyth, arrived at SWG3’s TV studio as part of her first headline tour, supporting her much-anticipated album 11.11.

The Cork-born singer was clearly excited to be in front of the legendary Glasgow audience, joking that she looked ill because she was “Glasgow deficient.” However, her energy was undeniable from the first second of the opener, “4am.” She pogoed her heart out, raced about the stage, and whipped her hair, demonstrating her genuine excitement to be there, even if her frenetic moves didn’t quite match the melancholic, end-of-the-night club vibes of the song.

“I know you don’t want to be alone, ’cause no one does,” she sang to the crowd, who responded with warmth and enthusiasm. The self-proclaimed “Master of Sad Bangers” recognised the love she felt from the sold-out audience.

Despite the recent launch of 11.11, the setlist was dominated by her decade-long catalogue of mixtapes, EPs, and assorted singles. This was a chance to showcase her extensive portfolio, much of which has been noted by Billie Eilish. However, the different influences and genres within her music made for an eclectic and varied, if slightly disjointed, live experience.

Biig Piig’s constant energy and instantly recognisable melodic voice provided the common thread through a show that included two distinct vibes: chilled-out, ethereal songs with trip-hop and acid-jazz influences, and energetic synth-led club tracks with drum’n’bass drops. The first half of the night featured more chilled songs like “Oh No,” “This is What They Meant,” “Don’t Turn Around,” and “I Keep Losing Sleep.”

Early highlights included “Roses and Gold” with its heavy bass and impressive saxophone riffs, and the bass-filled, Anglo-Iberian language “Perdida,” influenced by Piig’s formative years living in Marbella.

As the pace picked up, the energetic club-led second half of the performance better connected with Piig’s energy and the crowd. The trip-hop vibe of her 2020 single “Liahr” continued her frenetic on-stage presence, which was amplified on “Picking Up,” where the crowd was encouraged to let their rage out. After hopping the barrier and spending some time in the crowd, she looked delighted to connect with her Scottish fans. That genuine emotion was present in “Brighter Day,” dedicated to those no longer with us but here in spirit.

Her 2020 single “Sunny” had the crowd dancing and clapping along to the heavy bass parts, with the bassist, who also doubled as the impressive sax player, in his element. Electro-disco banger “Decimal,” the synths of ethereal “Favourite Girl,” and drum’n’bass-led “Switch” turned the TV studio into a club night before the strains of her most popular and recognisable song, “Feels Right,” provided an opportunity for a good sing-along.

The encore, “Kerosene” from her 2023 album Bubblegum, kept the energy up and rounded off the evening with a bit of audience participation that again delighted the Irish singer. Biig Piig was an excited puppy on stage, leaving the audience eagerly anticipating her next performance.

Images: John Younge

Words: Marie Hendry

By the time Heartworms stalk onto the stage at King Tut’s, the air is already thick with anticipation—possibly sweat, possibly dread. After all, Jojo Orme doesn’t deal in the pedestrian or the polite. She’s the kind of frontwoman who could have you spellbound with a whisper and then tear your head off with a wail before you’ve had time to blink. And tonight, that’s exactly what she does.

Fresh off the release of Glutton for Punishment—one of the year’s most ferocious debuts—Orme and her band take their positions with the quiet confidence of people who know they’re about to flatten the room.

They open the set with the album’s instrumental intro, a brief moment of eerie calm before Just To Ask a Dance kicks in, complete with perfectly synchronised moves. Who says style and substance can’t share a stage?

Heartworms operate on a knife’s edge between post-punk precision and industrial ferocity, with the band shifting seamlessly between controlled chaos and eerie serenity.

The dynamics are razor-sharp: one moment a whispered, almost ghostly vocal, the next an unhinged, full-throated howl that feels like it could shatter glass. Orme doesn’t just sing these songs—she delivers them, each lyric weighted like a weapon, each pause as tense as a held breath.

And then comes Mad Catch. The band drops into absolute silence, leaving the crowd stranded in a moment of stillness. At first, the murmur of bar chatter drifts through the venue, a reminder of the real world beyond this fever dream of a set. But soon, as if hypnotised, the room falls silent. Orme seizes the moment with some spoken word—an intense, almost theatrical display that sends a shiver through the assembled bodies before the trip-hop beats of Extraordinary Wings come crashing in.

By the time Warplane detonates, there’s no question that Heartworms are in complete control. The drum machine sets the pulse, the band drive it forward like a well-oiled war machine, and Orme commands the chaos with a cool, almost sinister authority.

The night ends with Smugglers Adventure, a spectral, subdued closer that lingers in the air like the last breath of a ghost.

With the haunting lyric, “I don’t have a chance to ask for a dance from you. I’m so shy, it pains me to ask you to save me too”

It’s a moment of eerie beauty—a final, knowing whisper before the band disappears into the night.

Words: Fran Tamburini & Angela Canavan

Images: Rose McEnroe

Motopia

Despite the early start time, local heroes Motopia performed a blistering set in front of a keen and animated audience that had clearly made the effort to get there early. A musical mix of early Banshees, Au Pairs, The Doors, and possibly even Television, Mairead leads from the front—singing and dancing to great effect as the boys provide a sonic vision that is both varied and dynamic.

There are moments that almost enter guitar-hero territory, but the mix and variation just work. This is as refreshing as it is authentic, as modern as it is retro. Infectious songs and good stagecraft are often hard to beat.

Mairead clearly has a genuine love of performing, and that is infectious. At times, she reminds me of Ari Up—a celebration of music and life, a vision of pure joy and exuberance. Proving it’s not what you do, it’s the way that you do it.

PAIGE KENNEDY

What a set!

Electronic wizardry and a Telecaster guitar merged to such magnificent effect. What more could you ever need?

This mesmerising artist is utterly captivating.

Prince-like guitar riffs layered over ’80s-inspired keyboard and drums that bring to mind Scritti Politti, Thomas Dolby, and Yello!

With an assured delivery of songs that explore the pitfalls and traps of everyday life. What Does Your Girlfriend Think and Lingerie Model are immediate highlights. The experience of buying lingerie in M&S is comically tragic, and the depiction of the mundane reminds me of Chris Difford’s lyrics—different, yes, but with a similar sense of the artist as the character relaying the story.

The dancing, the banter, the stage presence—Paige is a truly engaging artist, as funny and upbeat as they are serious and considered. At one point, they ask if anyone in the venue has a girlfriend and seem genuinely confused when the crowd appears to be entirely single. It was the day after Valentine’s—maybe that’s why, or maybe it just got lost in translation.

It’s with good reason that the NME 100 has highlighted Paige as one to watch in 2025.

The set was short—maybe only half an hour—but every minute was a highlight. For now, Paige’s music is available on the usual digital platforms, and you really should investigate it further. It is with utter certainty that more great things are to come. Watch this space.

SHE DREW THE GUN

Tonight marks the release of Louisa Roach’s, aka She Drew The Gun, fantastic new album, Howl.

Bittersweet, streetwise lyrics and melodies mingle with pulsating keyboards, soaring guitars, and a pounding rhythm section to create a musical landscape that overwhelms and engulfs a packed Room 2.

An incendiary and entrancing performer, Louisa has the ability to conjure incredible visions with words that trip effortlessly from her Merseyside tongue. So many words… so many considered words—it’s remarkable that they can be remembered so flawlessly and delivered to such great effect. Between songs, I’m at times reminded of John Cooper Clarke, both in content and delivery—deadpan-penned bullets to the heart and senses. Thought-provoking, intelligent, relevant.

The five-piece live band creates a perfect platform from which to launch an 18-song set that dips and dives in feel and sound. Zig-zagging between retro and at times analogue electronica, to hip-hop, to psyched-out and mutated lounge-lizard toe-tapping, reminiscent of Karen O, Sharon Van Etten, and maybe Annie Clark. It’s a sound that’s hard to pin down but easy to appreciate. More than anything, the lyrics are inventive and hard-hitting, reflecting on the challenges of everyday human existence—the political, the social, and the personal.

This is a smouldering performance that peaks with an incredible version of Something for the Pain, but it’s Panopticon, the final encore, that really is the cherry on the cake—somewhere between S’Express, Propaganda, and The Beloved. A blistering set of so many jewels.

She Drew The Gun are easy to love.

Words: Nick Tammer

Images: Chris Hogge

Tonight’s set was short… almost frustratingly so… six songs in 30 minutes, but my oh my, what a beautiful 30 minutes it was.

It is Valentine’s night, and the Mono stage is bathed in blue light. Keeley collect themselves, form a Celtic-esque huddle, and then deliver a red-hot set, mainly of new songs that make the prospect of a third album so exciting. The yet-to-be-recorded songs are more direct and pure new wave than the more textural, dream pop, shoegaze vibe that you may be more familiar with. But it’s early days, and I cannot wait to hear how the finished articles will sound.

This is by no means the first time that Keeley have played in Glasgow, and tonight sees them at their most confident. Keeley Moss (vocals/guitar) commands the stage, whilst Luke (bass) and Andrew (drums) provide a rhythmic backbone from which to soar. Having toured with the likes of Terrorvision, Miki Berenyi Trio, and Desperate Journalist, this dynamic and forward-forging ethic sees Keeley gather a continually growing fanbase that will only get bigger and bigger. Tonight sees Luke wearing a My Bloody Valentine ‘Loveless’ T-shirt. Genius!

Keeley are fantastic tonight, but it is all over in the blink of an eye. In retrospect, it may be good to leave people wanting more. Can’t wait!

It should be said that all of the songs written are specifically about Inga Maria Hauser, a young German woman whose murder in Northern Ireland remains unsolved. This tragic event is covered with such respect and passion that I urge you to listen to the songs in greater depth, as well as checking out the documentary Inga Maria Hauser: Who Killed Her? Murder in the Badlands.

The Boo Radleys come from a part of the world that has undoubtedly had more than its fair share of incredible songwriters, and tonight we are presented with wonderful moments from the albums Wake Up! and C’mon Kids. Crafting some of the 1990s’ most memorable and enduring songs, The Boos thankfully reformed in 2020/21, and the now five-piece band seem genuinely happy and excited to be playing in Glasgow. The ever-smiling Sice banters with a hugely receptive audience that is eager to lap up each moment. Many of us here have seen The Boos before… maybe decades ago or maybe more recently at Hug and Pint. The 17-or-so song set is so refreshingly delivered that even well-known anthems such as Wake Up Boo! sound revived and current… almost new.

It is now strange to think that C’mon Kids was regarded as an almost self-sabotaging exercise by critics of the time and that the band were somehow trying to alienate their fanbase. The test of time has proved that the band were right all along and their doubters wrong. The songs are elegantly crafted and timeless. Some fan-favourite tracks may have been missing from tonight’s set, but to no ill effect—the quality of songs played and the verve with which they are delivered make the well over one-hour set a joy to behold.

The fact that it is Valentine’s Day hasn’t gone unnoticed, and there are comical exchanges regarding partners that may have been dragged to the gig… willingly or unwillingly.

No one seems to know, and I completely forgot to mention that just over the river from Mono at the Blessed St John Duns Scotus RC Church, there is a casket on display in the entrance, and within that casket, there are relics attributed to Corpus Valentini Martyris—St Valentine. Synergy.

I’m glad that The Boo Radleys are back. Pure 1990s pop at its shimmering best in the 21st century.

Words: NICK TAMMER

Images: Chris Hogge

Never strongly embraced in Italy, my birthplace, Cage the Elephant—a Kentucky band that moved to London at the end of the 2000s—led a sold-out show at the O2 Academy in Glasgow on 13th February 2025. The performance took me back to my 20s, when I would listen to a randomly picked selection of indie rock bands, smugly sharing them with my small group of followers on Facebook.

So, I was feeling quite nostalgic.

The band was supported by two opening acts: Girls Tones, an American high-rock duo that stole my heart, and the caffeinated hard rock of Sunflower Bean.

For those who were still caught up in the allegations against him and his well-documented struggles with mental health, the Neon Pill Tour, promoting their latest album, presented a reborn Matt Shultz. Dressed in a sweater I had always dreamed of owning, classic Maison Margiela boots, and sober yet effortlessly cool gold jewellery, he exuded confidence.

As soon as the lights went out, Shultz leapt onto the stage, immediately illuminated by a perfectly placed spotlight. Backed by his loyal brother Brad and a solid band, he ignited the cheering pit with standout tracks from previous albums, such as Cry Baby and Too Late to Say Goodbye.

The first song from the new album to make an appearance was Good Time, infused with hip-hop influences. It was quickly followed by Neon Pill, which reaffirmed the band’s signature sound. But if the crowd expected a typical promotional tour, they were mistaken—myself included. Only three new songs were played throughout the night, the last of which was Rainbow, a track clearly inspired by reggae.

Sticking to the night’s nostalgic theme, Cage the Elephant delivered a mixed setlist of past hits, creating a show that felt like pure fan service. The crowd jumped, sang, and momentarily forgot their everyday worries, reliving the energy of their youth. Songs such as Halo and Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked built up to a climactic finish with Sabretooth Tiger.

Yet, as the venue erupted in chants for an encore, the band returned, treating the audience to four more songs, including their unforgettable Cigarette Daydreams and Come a Little Closer, which closed the night on a high.

After such a nostalgic show, I can only wish the band the best for the rest of the tour and hope they receive the same incredible response they found in Glasgow. Personally, I can’t wait to see them again soon.

Article: Marco Cornell

It must be a great thing to be born from the same ring of fire as the likes of Hank Williams, Patsy Cline, Lone Justice, and X.

Formed more than a decade ago, this fiercely independent DIY four-piece comes together to present their own personal brand of heart-wrenching storytelling to a Rum Shack crowd full of rockabilly attitude mixed with Americana swagger.

A crystal-clear voice that evokes eras past and a Gretsch guitar chiming to create a soundscape that feels both familiar and yet from somewhere far away. But don’t be fooled—Jenny Don’t and The Spurs are cowpunk through and through. Resplendent in their Western-influenced, self-embellished wardrobe, this Portland-based four-piece is instantly lovable and a joy to behold. Evolving from their punk roots, they have crafted a sound uniquely their own, and their latest album, produced by Colin Hegna of The Brian Jonestown Massacre, sees them reaching new sonic heights.

An instrumental introduction of Sidewinder launches the band into a beautifully curated set filled with dazzling moments. Their joy in playing live is obvious for all to see, with Jenny smiling throughout, engaging with the audience, and at times almost line dancing to the beat.

New tracks Unlucky Love, Flying High, and the latest album’s title track, Broken Hearted Blue, glimmer between older songs. The classic Your Cheatin’ Heart is covered, as is Black Cadillac, a long-lost and incredibly rare track by Jenny’s cousin, Sonny Wallace. The set ends with a ballistic cover of “Walking in my Grave” by Portland’s prolific DIY cult heroes, Dead Moon.

You’ll never be able to see Dead Moon or The Gun Club play live… but you can see Jenny Don’t and The Spurs. Don’t miss them. Don’t.

This is cowpunk hardcore. This is not nostalgia—this is now and should not be missed.

Words: CECH

Images: Chris Hogge