It’s Halloween, and the crypt of the Hug and Pint serves as the perfect environment for secrecy and subterranean sonic beauty.
Any Slime City gig is a joy to behold, and tonight Glasgow’s own irreverent electro-nerd punks open proceedings with a surprise—and maybe not-so-secret—‘let’s try out our new material’ show. Their ability to transform left-field observations of the world and the absurdity of human existence into darkly humorous songs is remarkable, refreshing, and necessary. Yet beneath the wit lies something serious and thought-provoking—something that refuses to let you off easy.
Hard-hitting and melodically complex, the new tracks land with precision and purpose to rapturous reception. Trigger the Dads,Millennial Pause,Never Stop Giving Up—these are perfect Slime City: sharp, cynical, vital—and they sit seamlessly alongside old favourites like You and Everybody You Love Will One Day Die. The song titles alone make you smile before making you realise they might actually be right. Existential Armageddon on an individual level, delivered with a knowing wink and a middle finger raised.
A stunning performance for people who think too much and feel even more. Any band that creates a song called Lord, Make Me Chaste, But Not Yet deserves a Grammy at the very least—or, at minimum, your undivided attention.
Slime City’s new album National Record of Achievement drops 21 November.
29 November – Glasgow Art School. Album launch. Mark your calendars.
22 November – The Lexington, London.
After what seems like a lifetime, Desperate Journalist return to Glasgow to a hugely thankful and expectant crowd, who are rewarded with a stunning set of songs and a truly remarkable performance. The music sweeps over you like a continuous wave of emotion—an engulfing sonic landscape paired with lyrics and vocals that attack your deepest heartstrings with clarity and beauty. Emotions tangle and unravel in real time.
Vocalist Jo Bevan possesses a dazzling voice that sits somewhere between Björk, Jehnny Beth, and Sinéad O’Connor—a unique and devastating instrument. Her delivery is at times confrontational, words spat out as if expelling demons that have built up inside, teetering on the edge of a scream before pulling back with gut-wrenching restraint. It’s brutal and beautiful in equal measure.
While influences aren’t immediately obvious, there’s something familiar in the feeling—echoes of The Smiths, Talk Talk; that post-punk melancholy reimagined for our current moment. This is atmospheric, turbulent defiance. A disruption soundscape. Emotionally intense and deeply personal thoughts and feelings laid bare. A cathartic exorcism of life itself—tragic romance transformed into dynamic energy, despair meeting hope head-on.
What strikes you most is the conviction. Direct, breathless. Emotional drama that never feels performative because it’s so clearly real. Hope thwarted and dashed in an emotional storm, yet somehow still present. So much self-searching. So much reckoning. There’s a Morrissey-esque quality to the vocal delivery—those devastating throwaway comments turned into lyrics that cut deep and stay with you long after the final note fades.
This is deeply personal music for the masses—last breaths of defiance sung loud enough for everyone to hear. Such beautiful music in the most unlikely place.
If you missed this show, you missed something special. But there’s always next time—and with bands this good, there should always be a next time.
After five years off the road—and a name change that signaled both rebirth and resilience—HARD LIFE (formerly Easy Life) made their long-awaited return to Glasgow’sSWG3 on Tuesday night. The Leicester collective walked onstage to the sound of bagpipes, a perfectly tongue-in-cheek nod to their Scottish audience, and from that moment on, the room pulsed with anticipation.
Their set was an energetic fusion of hip-hop, soul, indie pop, and jazz—genres the band has always blended with enviable ease. HARD LIFE wasted no time reclaiming their place as one of the UK’s most compelling live acts, running through crowd-favorite cuts like “SKELETONS,” “PEANUT BUTTER,” “PETTY CRIME,” and “BEESWAX” with renewed swagger. Each track hit with the same offbeat charm and melodic warmth that defined their earlier sound, but there was a sharper edge this time—a confidence born from survival.
Halfway through the night, the band leaned into local spirit with a raucous, affectionate cover of The Proclaimers’ “I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles),” a moment that sent the crowd into full voice and sealed the connection between band and audience.
HARD LIFE’s stage presence remains effortlessly cool—easygoing but magnetic. There’s a sense of good-natured defiance in the air; a band that’s been through it, standing taller than ever. Judging by the grins and singalongs echoing through SWG3, Glasgow was more than happy to welcome them back.
Sports Team are rowdy right off the bat. They shake, scream, kick, and spit beer that lands squarely on this photographer’s glasses. The first three songs — The Game, Bang Bang Bang, and Happy — already set the mood for an energetic night.
Their music is a unique blend of indie and folk rock, driven by sarcastic, insightful lyrics and a distinctive identity. It electrifies the crowd and sets it in motion — and Thursday night at the Art School in Glasgow was no different, with moshing and jumping encouraged by charismatic frontman Alex Rice.
These live shows perfectly capture the bold sound of their latest LP, Boys These Days — a somewhat nostalgic hymn to what it was like being young back then versus what it feels like now. This night in Glasgow follows their set at the iconic Barrowland Ballroom earlier this year, when they opened for the legendary Supergrass — yet it’s not hard to imagine them headlining that stage in the near future.
All things considered, this six-piece from London reaffirms its place as one of the most exciting live acts around — a band that continues to grow, evolve, and prove that chaos can, in the right hands, sound like pure joy.
Let’s be clear: life is not an easy gig, and despite what some may believe, there might not be an encore. So doing what you can, when you can, and for the greater good is more important today than it has been for quite some time.
Gogol Bordello present such a potent feeling of positivity in a music genre that is as familiar as it is alien. The fusion of punk and cross-cultural Gypsy themes—presented in an exploding piñata of riot and colour—is as welcome as summer after winter: a necessary antidote to darker times.
A multi-national troupe with a New York-centric heart, they create an irresistible, unrelenting tide of their unique left-field aesthetic. Similar in spirit—both visually and musically—to the incredible yet sadly self-imploding French Gypsy jazz collective of the late ’80s and early ’90s, Les Négresses Vertes, Gogol Bordello appear as a seven-piece band of vibrant colour and surging electrical charge that’s hard to ignore and utterly impossible to resist.
But hang on—tonight wasn’t about one band. It was about all three acts coming together as a collective front of friendship, unity, and solidarity, no doubt instigated by Gogol Bordello themselves. This collective spirit is something really quite rare in terms of a gig and audience perception: Eugene coming on to play with Puzzled Panther, Puzzled Panther joining Gogol on stage, then Harry of Split Dogs adding her fire to the mix—and finally, all of them together in one glorious, chaotic finale.
This is what live music should be: barriers broken down, egos left at the door, pure connection.
Eugene—chief Gogol himself—is, from the off and while people are still wandering into the venue, in the pit filming the fantastic NYC post-punk newcomers Puzzled Panther, whose cover of Venus in Furs reveals influences and roots that delve deep into New York’s musical history—that lineage of art-punk experimentation and raw energy that never quite goes away—combined with a danceability reminiscent of Primal Scream meets Manchester. Their music, and the way it’s presented, is very much its own unique thing: energetic, engaging, and utterly captivating in its youthful intensity.
Hard-hitting yet effortlessly personable, they command the stage with a confidence that belies their newbie status. There’s something magnetic about watching a band this early in their journey—this hungry, this alive. Their short thirty-minute set leaves you wanting more, and the buzzing feeling they create becomes a benchmark for the night as a whole. With a new EP freshly released, this is a band to watch closely—one that carries the torch of New York’s underground legacy while blazing its own trail forward.
Split Dogs attack the stage as if their lives depend on it. Chat is tempered with a “better get on with it” attitude that feels full-blown punk—sonic and visual blitz. Despite being quite different from the other bands tonight, they clearly come from the same gene pool, just a different branch: raucous and here to destroy. Harry’s vocals lead from the front, attacking the stage with her distinctive voice and infectious attitude—thirty minutes of pure adrenaline and defiance. A thrill to watch, and the perfect catalyst for what’s about to follow.
Gogol Bordello literally invade the stage, which suddenly seems too small to contain them. Sprinting towards the cheering crowd, Eugene slams down a bottle of what I thought was Buckfast—turns out to be Cabernet Sauvignon. It erupts over photographers in the pit, and the tone for the night is set. This is a full-blown visual and musical assault, especially when Pedro and Eugene combine to share vocals and deliver raga-rap as hard-hitting as it gets.
A continuous high-tempo, body-slamming beat; relentless accordion and violin drones carry through the songs with almost no let-up in the wave of emotion and energy. This is music that demands everything from you—your attention, your body, your voice, your heart.
Some smile-inducing moments include nods to several of their surprisingly less obvious 1980s influences: snippets of I Want Candy by Bow Wow Wow, Gangsters by The Specials, and TV Eye by The Stooges. The set becomes a celebration not just of their own music but of the lineage that brought them here—a reminder that all great music is built on what came before, reimagined and reborn.
It’s been impossible to review or even consider just Gogol Bordello in isolation tonight. This evening was as much about camaraderie as it was about music: older bands helping younger bands, and vice versa. Passing the torch while still holding it high—a beautiful, rare thing in an industry that too often forgets its roots.
On the night of 25 October 2025, Barrowland hosted three bands: support from Arkayla and Feet, followed by headliners The Royston Club. What unfolded was a night that leaned into emotion, energy, and connection.
From the start, the crowd filled the room with excitement — not just for the headliner, but from the moment the first band took the stage. Arkayla opened with confidence, their set full of punchy indie rock and a strong stage presence. They carried themselves like a band who knew how to warm up a room, and by the time they left the stage, the crowd was already leaning forward, ready for more.
Feet followed with great energy and rhythm. Their set struck a balance between tight musicianship and just the right amount of chaos. Propulsive grooves, sharp vocals, and a clear chemistry between band members made them stand out. By the end, they had won over a fair share of the crowd — and for me, they were the highlight of the night. Their final track left the room buzzing and perfectly set up for the main act.
When The Royston Club walked on stage, they wasted no time, launching straight into Patch Where Nothing Grows and Glued to the Bed from their newly released album Songs for the Spine — also the name of their current tour. Behind them stood a giant silhouette of a bull, a striking symbol that framed the performance with boldness and intent.
Frontman Tom Faithfull (vocals and rhythm guitar) balanced emotional vulnerability with rock urgency. His voice held the room’s attention throughout, while Ben Matthias (lead guitar), Dave Tute (bass), and Sam Jones (drums) delivered playing that was both tight and expressive. Their chemistry was clear — particularly on Spinning, where the live version carried extra emotional weight before lifting into full-band power.
The set mixed new material with early favourites, keeping the energy high while allowing moments of reflection. They closed with Cariad, a vulnerable track from Songs for the Spine, which created a rare stillness in a room otherwise charged with energy.
It was a night that confirmed The Royston Club’s growing success. With Feet and Arkayla setting the stage perfectly, this was a show that balanced intimacy and urgency — a night of jump-along rock and collective connection that left Barrowland glowing.
On a night that saw Pop Mutations collaborate with the Tiny Changes charity to present six shows across Glasgow, the hottest ticket was undoubtedly Altered Images at The Glad Café. Returning home for an incredibly intimate gig, everyone knew this was going to be special — one of those rare evenings where the stars align.
Altered Images will always be one of Glasgow’s perpetually shining lights of 1980s pop — a band that has never really gone away, their songs woven into the fabric of our collective memory. Instantly recognisable and loved as much today as they were four decades ago, to see such an act with this kind of pedigree in a venue this small was always going to be something to behold and savour. A real “I was there” moment.
But where do I start? Clare Grogan needs no introduction, especially here in Scotland. She and her songs have soundtracked our lives for as long as I care to remember, and like so many people here tonight, the thought of seeing her perform so close up left me almost breathless. That joyous, infectious ray of light that just makes you smile — a presence that feels both familiar and magical.
She appeared dressed in the most remarkable costume — shimmering and floating like a butterfly, reflecting light and creating an eye-catching focal point that seemed to capture the very essence of the music itself.
The first knockout punch came with set opener “I Could Be Happy” — such a heavyweight number to kick off proceedings and get everyone on side. From that moment, the room belonged to her.
The hit-laden set unravelled beautifully, with Grogan perfectly at ease, chatting and joking between numbers. She reflected on how her singing voice has deepened over time, leaving her “Minnie Mouse” voice of youth behind, though she remained determined to sing in the same key as before. She giggled — albeit perhaps slightly miffed — at the thought that her husband and daughter were working in London rather than being here to give moral support. She grew emotional remembering how her then-bandmate and later-to-be husband had written “Don’t Talk to Me About Love” together, and in the same breath, almost welling up, marvelled that she cannot believe she has been with him so long. These tender and at times tongue-in-cheek moments felt truly genuine, shared with humour and humility — unguarded glimpses into a life lived in music.
There was a welcome nod to the band’s very early roots, with new wave classics “Dead Pop Star” and “Insects” sitting perfectly alongside newer, yet almost retro-analogue synth tracks such as “Mascara Streakz” and “Double Reflection”. The evolution evident, yet the essence unchanged.
Tonight was utterly fantastic. To see a band of this calibre in a venue this intimate really is a rare thing — spellbinding, joyous, and a memory to hold dear and cherish. An evening where past and present merged seamlessly; where nostalgia felt not like looking back, but like coming home.
East Kilbride. I’ve never been and, if I’m honest, I don’t really know exactly where it is or how to get there — but what I do know is that from this place emerges beautiful music that reaches far beyond the boundaries of its origins. Like flowers emerging from cracks in the concrete, reaching for the sun and beyond — defiant, necessary, essential.
The foundation of Gates of Light — AKA Louise Quinn — comes from this place. A singular performer whose collaborations with electro-centric musicians and producers from London, Paris, New York and Glasgow have resulted in some of the most remarkable and captivating music to be created and released on local label Last Night From Glasgow. This is music that exists in the spaces between the organic and the synthetic, between hope and heartbreak.
Performances and releases are few and far between, which makes them all the more precious. So the fact that they perform tonight in support of the Tiny Changes charity feels not just fortunate but somehow fitting — an act of generosity that mirrors the emotional openness of the music itself.
Tonight’s show sees Louise perform with Finlay Macdonald, and the set eases into existence with the bittersweet slow-burner Better Now — a song that doesn’t so much begin as materialise. For me, the highlight of the Gates of Light repertoire comes early, and it hits like a revelation. Quiet Little Miracle is a masterpiece of melancholic hope and yearning — so quiet, so mesmerising, so devastatingly beautiful. I urge you to seek out this song and challenge you not to be moved to your core. Louise’s voice is so pure and natural, untouched by artifice or pretension, that its pairing with an electronic soundtrack creates a perfect union of sweet and sour, blood and code — human vulnerability wrapped in digital precision.
As the set gathers pace, the dynamics shift. Advance introduces a near-techno pulse that feels both urgent and hypnotic, and the duo look perfectly at home in the space they have created. Hypnotic projections of graphic shapes and colour flood the stage with perpetual movement, the visuals pulsing in sync with the music as sound and vision become one immersive experience.
What strikes me most about Gates of Light is the emotional honesty at the heart of everything they do. In an age of overproduction and artifice, there’s something profoundly moving about music this stripped back, this vulnerable, this real. Louise’s voice carries the weight of lived experience — joy and pain in equal measure — while the electronic framework provides not distance but intimacy, creating spaces for emotion to breathe and resonate.
The ability to see Gates of Light in the wild is a rare thing, and tonight proves exactly why they matter. Make sure you take every opportunity to catch them, and in the meantime, seek out their music and support their beautiful work wherever you may find it.
In a world that often feels too loud, too brash, too certain of itself, Gates of Light offer something different — something quieter, deeper, more honest. Something vital.
NewDad returned to Glasgow on Monday night with a warm and confident performance at SWG3’s TV Studio, celebrating the recent release of their debut album, Altar. The set leaned heavily into the new material, with standout tracks such as Everything I Wanted,Pretty, and Misery already settling in as firm fan favourites. These songs showcased the band’s knack for melancholic melodies wrapped in hazy, shimmering textures.
A brief technical fault during the second song could have thrown things off, but the band handled it with ease. With smiles all around and cheers from the crowd, they kept going, and the issue was sorted within seconds.
Highlights of the night included a powerful version of Sickly Sweet, the moody, swirling Blue, and a stunning encore featuring Angel and Roobosh, ending the night on an emotional and atmospheric high.
In a venue known for hosting rising acts, NewDad proved they’re not just ones to watch — they’re already here, and they’re quietly brilliant.
Panic Shack were back in Glasgow, only several months since they were here last — this time playing the larger Garage for the release of their self-titled debut album.
They kicked off the evening with the popular and catchy ‘Gok Wan’, the perfect way to raise the energy for the rest of their set, which was filled with more fan favourites such as ‘Girl Band Starter Pack’, ‘Jiu Jits-You’, and ‘Thelma and Louise’.
It wasn’t long before the mosh pit was in full swing, with many unable to resist joining in or dancing along further back. The charismatic four-piece kept up a good back-and-forth with the crowd, later stating that they “love it here”.
A highlight of the evening was their cover of ‘War Pigs’, originally by metal legends Black Sabbath. They nailed the distinctive riffs and iconic solos, with Nick Doherty-Williams putting on an awesome show on drums. They cleverly merged into ‘Tit School’ from their new album, keeping up the high energy from their exciting but unexpected cover.
They closed the night with a good mix of old and new, including ‘Who’s Got My Lighter?’ and the new track ‘Pockets’, before finishing on another fan favourite, ‘The Ick’. These final songs were quintessential Panic Shack — angsty vocals, gnarly riffs, and plenty of moments for a good mosh.
There’s a particular kind of holy chaos that only Glasgow can conjure — that strange cocktail of reverence and racket, rain and revelation. This year’s Tenement Trail, now in its eleventh incarnation, was less a micro-festival and more a music aficionado’s fever dream: over fifty acts stretched across the East End’s sacred and profane spaces — St Luke’s, BAaD, McChuills, Barrowland, and every bar with a plug socket in between.
It’s a pilgrimage of distortion that’s seems to be leaning into the post punk Irish renaissance that’s happening much to our delight. Here is who we seen and what we thought.
Adult DVD @ St Luke’s
Leeds’ Adult DVD opened the day like a synth apparition — chrome-plated and ice-cold, a Factory Records lovechild raised on a diet of irony and tinned lager. Their “Bill Murray” track glistened like neon through a smog of church incense. Imagine New Order if they’d been trapped in a laser tag arena with DMA’s and a bad hangover — that’s Adult DVD: sterile, shimmering, and slightly sinister.
Theo Bleak @ Barrowland 2
Theo Bleak followed with something far softer — a damp, lilting sigh that rustled like wind through stained glass. They occupy that spectral space between Phoebe Bridgers and Daughter, a melancholic folk-pop echo that seems to apologise as it enchants. Their set was like being serenaded by the ghost of a poet who never made rent. We lived the unadulterated whimsy of “I Look Like A Fool to You”.
Curiosity Shop @ Van Winkle
Curiosity Shop sneaked on to the line up last minute and being one of our highlights from last year we didn’t want to miss this set. The band wandered through their slot like wayward mystics. There’s something pastoral yet rural about them — as if Devendra Banhart had wandered into The Velvet Underground’s basement. Their track “Books on the Wild” with its two part harmonies is instantly mired in melancholic longing so much so I’m aghast that they’ve not yet been catapulted to fame for soundtracking the next big teen angst series (The Summer I Turned Pretty team you slept on this one.)
Mercy Girl @ Barrowland 2
Mercy Girl arrived like dusk personified — all indie shimmer and dreamlike ache. They could be The Japanese House’s grittier Glaswegian cousins, they instantly remind me of Fcukers and Crystal Castles all bruised vocals and reverb-soaked resolve. The crowd swayed as though under a spell they didn’t consent to but secretly adored. “Heaven” was a gloriously filthy disco stomp.
Fright Years @ Barrowland
Dark, decadent, and deliciously shimmering pop overtones — Fright Years stalked the Barrowland stage with glorious 70’s bohemian trumpet sleeves billowing out over the audience. Dappled in indigo lighting the band proved they have the chops to fill large capacity venues like the Barrowland ballroom. We loved the anthem crescendo of track “Stars”.
Flytrap @ 226 Gallowgate
At 226 Gallowgate, Flytrap were the chaos cousins — restless, wiry, and gloriously unpolished. Their sound spilled like electricity on wet pavement; or wait… was that the can of Tennents that got kicked over thier guitar pedals? Thier track “Gutted” sounded somewhere between Pip Blom and a very caffeinated Clamm a heady concoction worth checking out.
Youth For Sale @ Winged Ox
There’s a beautiful serendipitous feel to the synth laden, dreamy pop that high school friends turned band Youth For Sale are peddling. It’s feel good pop and Youth For Sale deliver it with all the tenderness of a buttercup blowing in a meadow. New tracks such as “I Think I’m In Love” are gorgeously catchy.
No Windows @ Barrowlands 2
Edinburgh’s No Windows once again titillated with thier joyful harmonies and sweeping soundscapes. The band seem to have swelled in numbers what started of as a due then a trio appeared in stage today as a fully fledged five price band.
It’s good to see them pick up a prominent touring schedule. Twee, high tempo with distorted guitars the band hand the audience spellbound so much so that you could have heard a pin drop between songs. We loved, “Zodiac 13”
Dirty Faces @ Van Winkle
Dirty Faces (from Derry) were a crowd favourite before they even played a note — with a queue that tracked all they way up the street and around the corner this was the hot ticket that everyone wanted in to see. The band started off well however after 3 songs and a tragic misfire with the in house PA which seemed to make their drum machine mutiny halfway through…
They filled the void with humour and jokes – which the crowd responded rapturously to, not faltering and leaving, eager to hear what these two Derry boys were bringing to the table.
Despite the sound irregularities the lead singer titillated the crowd to a spontaneous acappella rendition of I Am The Bogside Man, which had the crowd roaring in solidarity. It was chaos, calamity, and community — all the best Glasgow exports. We hope they come back soon possibly with a drummer in tow.
Basht. @ BAaD
Basht. took the industrial cathedral of BAaD and turned it into a sweat-lit dancefloor. We loved “Wild Horses” which sounds like Wunderhorse having some sort of fisticuffs with Lou Reed, part Franz Ferdinand, all kinetic fury — their set was a celebration of rhythm as resistance.
Gallus @ Barrowland
The beloved sons returned. Gallus are the sound of Glasgow itself — swaggering, sentimental, and always one chorus away from transcendence. Their Barrowland set was a victory lap: a communal singalong that could’ve powered the city’s grid for a week. If Arctic Monkeys had been raised on Tennents and tenement tales, they’d sound like this.
The energy in the room way beyond palpable our favourite track was , as always, for the energy that comes with it, was “Fruitflies”.
The Deadlians @ St Luke’s
The Deadlians, all the way from Dublin, brought fiddle fire and folk-punk finesse to the hallowed space of St Luke’s. Sean Fitzgerald’s vocals soared with Irish myth and modern bite — a bit Pogues, a bit Waterboys all heart. Their crowd — part cult, part congregation — left the pews trembling.
This was the only set I made sure to stay the full length of (with such a packed schedule it’s hard to see an entire set without missing someone else).
But who else can play the fiddle whilst standing on one leg? If that doesn’t entertain you nothing will.
The Deadlians played a tight set honed off the back of an extensive touring schedule . The song that will make your heart soar is “I Don’t Wanna Ride Your Auld One Anymore” from the opening fiddle crescendo to Fitzgeralds heavily accented litl the song is garuntee to get your toes tapping.
Tooth @ Van Winkle
Tooth gnawed through their slot with jagged glee. Their sound — somewhere between gangling Americana and surf pop, and the sound of a nervous breakdown — was pure catharsis. Small venue, big noise. “Don’t Cut Ne Down” is made for much larger stages than this.
Chloe Slater @ St Luke’s
In contrast, Chloe Slater’s set felt like a silk scarf in a storm. Grungy, haunted, slightly too beautiful for its own good. She’s part Wolf Alice , part Billie Eilish. The room was packed bursting with gig-goers eager to glimpse this starlet tipped for the top in years to come.
Martha May & The Mondays @ McChuills
Martha May prowled into McChuills like a 70s angel in platform boots and eyeliner war paint. She channels Blondie via Suzi Quatro, armed with quips sharp enough to slice denim. “If you’re not dancing, I’ll come and kick your ass myself,” she hollered — and no one dared call her bluff.
Part wild circus part grungy basement gig it didn’t take long before she had the crowd literally eating out of the palm of her hand. We loved the new track, “Gold”.
Cowboy Hunters @ McChuills
Cowboy Hunters turned McChuills into a high school disco – after a fist fight. Their effortlessly cool grungy high energy punk hit McChuills square in the jaw.
We adore the hate filled manifesto that is “Jemma” in not sure who she is but I hope the band didn’t buy a vodoo doll with her name on because the acerbic comedy bite that is this song would be enough to signal her demise alone.
Secret Set by Soapbox @ McChuills
Then came the rumour, the whisper, the secret: Soapbox, back again for a midnight resurrection. With people packed in tight and queue that wrapped around the entire perimeter of McChuills it seemed that word got out pretty quickly who was due to close the festival.
This wasn’t just a set; it was a homecoming. Guitars howled, lights bled, and the room became an altar to everything Tenement Trail stands for — rawness, rebellion, and reckless joy.
Joined on stage by London based bestie PsweatPants this show was wildly anarchic and wildly good.
Two songs in and it was taps aff indeed and the boy died began to surf over the crash barrier. Sweaty sermons from inside the mosh pit? You got it.
The gathered congregations were treaded to a wild ride through the bands back catalogue with highlights being “Fascist Bob” and the guyyeral snarl of “Yer Dah”.
Tenement Trail 2025 was once again a love letter to the underground — handwritten in feedback and sweat. It was the sound of artists insisting on being heard, of old ghosts finding new hosts.
The festival’s beauty lies in its sprawl — a sonic scavenger hunt through old churches and ballrooms alike, where every echo feels earned. And through it all, the city thrummed like a heart too big for its ribcage.
If festivals are meant to remind us who we are, Tenement Trail’s message is simple:
The Golden Bough 