The Golden Bough

Welly are one of those bands that somehow feel as though they’ve always been there. Their brand of dancey and unbelievably high-energy pop-rock is familiar enough that the audience are quick to get into things, but fresh enough that you’re never quite certain where they might go next.

King Tut’s is far from packed tonight, which would understandably be disheartening for many artists. Nevertheless, the five members of Welly seem to take no heed of the headcount tonight, and explode out onto the stage as if they’re headlining TRNSMT. Welly have fast gained a reputation for their infectious live energy, evident in the fact that thirty seconds into track one every member of the crowd is bouncing about, beaming, and singing along.

Welly’s debut record, Big in the Suburbs, was released in March of this year, and with lyrics steeped in irony and droll observations, it’s not hard to see why they connect so immediately with a Glaswegian crowd. Near enough every song sees at least one member of the band diving into the audience, never allowing the collective energy in the room to even come close to dipping. Between songs, lead singer Elliot pauses to chat with the crowd, bantering with an audience that are as humorous and quick-witted as himself. There’s not a moment in the whole evening where the crowd aren’t fully engaged, giving back everything that Welly themselves are putting into it.

Welly’s influences are evident in their sound, calling to mind the most euphoric tunes by bands like Blur and Pulp. While elements of their musicality may hark back to the 90s, Welly are a band who appear never to look back, constantly pushing forward to whatever sounds and feels new and exciting. While Glasgow was being battered by a storm this weekend, it was Welly who were blowing the cobwebs away tonight.

Article: Elliot Hetherton

Glasgow does not give itself up easily. On the night of Storm Amy — trains cancelled, rain lashing, the first named tempest of the season — something had to be truly extraordinary to drag the faithful into the city. That something was The Duke Spirit, arriving at Stereo to celebrate twenty years of Cuts Across the Land. It wasn’t nostalgia, not really. It was time travel, and it was resurrection.

Support came from Scrounge, who ripped through their set like a haunted fairground ride gone wrong: a two-piece fury of guitar and drums, the singer spitting bile and anguish into the mic while the rhythms churned beneath like belly acid. A Benefits T-shirt on the drummer’s back nodded to Kingsley Hall’s spirit of spoken-word rebellion. Duos have no right to make such a racket, but Scrounge did, and the noise was exhilarating — like catching your breath after running from a ghost.

Then the storm inside matched the one outside. Liela Moss took the stage with the kind of cheekbones that still look chiselled from glass, her presence commanding without needing to demand. Luke B. Ford and Toby Butler flanked her with guitars that scythed and shimmered, while Olly “The Kid” Betts drove the set forward with a drumbeat that throbbed like a warning siren. Together they did not just play Cuts Across the Land — they inhabited it. From the opening surge of the title track “Cuts Across the Land” through “Stubborn Stitches” and deep into the shadows of “Bottom of the Sea,” the room was bound into their spell.

This was music at once brutal and tender. Moss’s voice veered between Kim Deal’s acerbic bite and the gothic undertow of Nick Cave, yet there was always something restless and uncontained in her delivery, a refusal to be boxed in or neatly described. When she whirled the mic stand like a sabre, the crowd surged forward, transfixed, as though each song might slice the night clean in two, while Moss dedicated “Bottom of the Sea” to gay and trans men in “these terrible times.” The gesture was not a lecture; it was solidarity sung from the gut.

What struck hardest was not just the album delivered in its entirely a short stage exit brought — “Souvenir,” “Lassoo,” “The Step and Walk” closing the encore — but the feral energy the band still summon after two decades. Moss called the Glasgow crowd beautiful, thanked them for braving the weather, and confessed they hadn’t expected anyone to come. But the room was packed, heaving, alive. The applause wasn’t polite nostalgia; it was rapture, a wave of energy meeting the storm outside and refusing to be drowned by it.

The Duke Spirit have always been the Velvet Underground for the Kate Moss generation: glamorous and jagged, dangerous yet impossibly stylish. Twenty years on, they still cut across the land — and through the heart — with an undimmed ferocity. This wasn’t just an anniversary gig. It was a reminder that some storms don’t fade; they simply wait for their moment to rise again.

Words: Angela Canavan

Images: Dale Harvey

Catching a band like The Pill for the second time this year felt like a privilege, particularly in such an intimate space as Nice ’n’ Sleazy. The basement was already heaving during support act Tough Cookie, the crowd shoulder to shoulder and primed for what was to come. With the stage barely separated from the audience, the atmosphere was charged and immediate.

The trio — Lily Hutchings (vocals & guitar) Lottie Massey (vocals & bass), and Gavin Sullivan (drums) — opened with Scaffolding Man, a track that set the tone with its off-kilter charm and razor-sharp lyrics. Hutchings and Massey traded lines with confidence, their interplay both playful and precise, while Reader’s drumming anchored the room without overpowering it.

Much of the set drew from their debut release, THE EP, including Money Mullet, Woman Driver (a standout highlight), and Bale of Hay. As the show progressed, these tracks became a focal point — tight, propulsive bursts of energy that made it impossible to stand still.

On stage, Hutchings and Massey performed with swagger, shoulder to shoulder, back to back, balancing irony with a sense of fun rather than resorting to blunt aggression. The crowd responded in kind: dancing, shouting along, and engaging with the lyrics as though they were part of the band themselves. In a venue this compact, even the smallest moments of interaction felt personal.

The set closed with Posh, a final surge that had the basement shaking. Voices were hoarse, feet still moving, and the energy showed no sign of letting up. It wasn’t simply a gig — it was a shared experience, a moment the audience felt stitched into.

At Nice ’n’ Sleazy, The Pill proved themselves a band able to transform tight, sweaty confines into a strength. Their performance was raw, exuberant, and immediate — the kind of night that lingers long after the last note fades.

Article: Marco Cornelli

It’s a Sunday night on the eve of the autumn equinox, and I can think of no better place to see L.A. Witch than in the dark crypt that is Stereo. Yin and yang… sweet and sour… the fact that the band originally comes from a place so bright and sun-bathed in light makes me stop to consider how this music can come from such a place. Music seemingly made at night… made for the shadows.

Live, the music is hypnotic, entrancing and incredibly seductive. Dark layers of ethereal vibrations engulf your body like a shield protecting you from the barbs of life. Themes of love and desire that are at the same time precariously balanced on the edge of disaster.

In their earlier form, L.A. Witch very much reminded me of Mazzy Star, The Brian Jonestown Massacre and other garage-psych outfits such as Kurt Vile.

The new album DOGGOD is different, and that reflects directly in this incredible gig scenario. Uniquely individual, intense and yet laid-back. Heartfelt, behind-the-beat vocals that are euphoric and yet almost accusatory… romantic storytelling… yet almost pleading.

The evolution of the band is no doubt due to Sade Sanchez now being based in Paris and all that that may mean in terms of her life and environment. It may also be due to the five-year gap between albums. Whatever the reason, the transformation is arresting.

As you would expect, the magnificent new album features in its totality and yes, thankfully, there is still space for older tracks like I Wanna Lose, which remains an essential milestone. To hear that riff live is almost a devotional experience.

New songs Icicle, 777 and Lost at Sea are huge. SOS is just incredible—listen to the lyrics and you will understand: such desire and pleading cloaked in confused optimism.

The mainly back-lit stage at Stereo surprisingly lends itself perfectly to the shadowy, gothic feel of tonight’s show, and the mix of very minimal instrumentation fills the room with waves of sound that have space, intensity and menace. Sade’s seductive Vox rig is perversely bewitching and the riffs created timeless. Ellie’s singular drumming and Irita’s bass are not only a lesson in how to play but also when to play. All of this is augmented with shimmering synth and guitar provided by tour buddy Tara. Such an incredible performance… utterly mesmerising.

The palindrome title of DOGGOD sums up the whole experience and is without doubt explicit in its intent. An extraordinary gig from start to finish, challenging human themes of life, love and ever-present tragedy.

As one of the lines goes: “I’m not alone or afraid to die.”

Words to live by.

Words: Nick Tamer

Images: Chris Hogge

SWG3’s Galvanizers was already packed when I arrived for this massive show. Three supporting acts and a long-awaited return to Glasgow: Basement. The night promised to be long, full of great music, and plenty of fun.

Opening the night, Midrift delivered a set that worked perfectly as a prelude to what was to come. Their tracks eased the crowd in gently. Though still a relatively young band, they drew the audience into the right atmosphere and set the tone well.

After a short break, Dynamite hit the stage and the energy shifted immediately. Launching straight into hardcore intensity, they pushed the pace with aggression, physicality, and a raw, visceral sound. Their set was loud, urgent, and had the pits going early.

The final support, Anxious, came on with Bambi leaning into emotion and powerful guitar hooks. They poured life into their songs, and their stage presence made it clear they wanted to leave a lasting mark. By the end of their set, the audience felt more than ready for the main event.

From the moment Basement emerged, it felt like a homecoming. Their setlist wove through the band’s discography — early favourites, highlights from Colourmeinkindness, newer tracks, and big singalong moments. They opened with Are You The One, Promise Everything, and Aquasun — leaping across the stage and instantly pulling the crowd into mosh pits and waves of crowd surfing.

Songs like Earl Grey, Spoiled and Crickets landed with real force. The set had a sense of structure: starting with familiar reassurance, building into heavier and louder moments, easing off for breathing space, and closing with huge singalongs.

Basement even previewed a couple of new tracks. Both were warmly received, suggesting the band are evolving while holding on to what makes them special. That communal feeling was there throughout, but when Covet finally arrived it became more than just a song — it was a shared celebration.

Basement’s headline show with Midrift, Dynamite and Anxious at SWG3 felt like more than a concert — it was an affirmation. After years away, Basement aren’t just returning; they’re reminding people why their music matters, supported by acts that both complemented and contrasted them brilliantly.

Article: Marco Cornelli.

At the sold out Barrowlands, Black Country, New Road strode on like a troupe of misfits who’ve stolen the keys to a medieval carnival and refuse to give them back. They stride confidently on stage to “Downtown” — a Petula Clark bauble turned funereal dirge, like your nan’s favourite 45 dragged down an alley and taught how to swear. From there the night lurched gloriously onwards: “Two Horses” as a runaway carriage, “Salem Sisters” hissing like a coven in the wings, “The Big Spin” rattling as if the Whacky Races had been restaged at a wake.

What’s striking is not the theatre — we already knew this lot could stage-manage their own apocalypse — but how far the theatre has metastasised. Once upon a time you could call them folk-jazz with delusions of grandeur. Now it’s as though the grandeur has eaten them alive. They’ve become a full-blown masque: operatic, grotesque, gleefully excessive. The harmonies, so precisely timed, are less sweet than sinister — a lullaby sung by siblings who’d gladly sell you to the wolves but would never sell out each other.

The absence of Isaac Wood — remember him? the band’s one-time talisman who fled just as the world anointed him their saviour — has become their greatest gift. No more messiahs, only conspirators. Tyler Hyde on bass, May Kershaw behind piano and accordion, Georgia Ellery wielding violin like a whip, Lewis Evans coaxing beauty and bile from his sax and flute, Charlie Wayne battering the kit into submission, Luke Mark on guitar stitching the whole thing together. No leaders, just a crooked parliament of sound. And thank Christ for that — the monarchy nearly killed them.

The new record, Forever Howlong, provides almost the whole set. They’ve torched the back catalogue; nostalgia is for the weak. Instead we get “Besties,” where a line like “Don’t waste your pulse on me” manages to feel like both a plea and a warning, a hymn to friendship as the last currency when everything else collapses. “For the Cold Country” howls like grief driven on a sleigh. And right in the middle they dare a cover: Big Star’s “Ballad of El Goodo,” announced with a shrug and played with such aching reverence that even the Barras, usually more interested in their pints, stood still. “It’s one of the greatest songs in rock and roll history,” they muttered — and for once no one in the room thought otherwise.

The night ended with “Forever Howlong,” a finale so stark it felt like watching your own pulse stop. The band layered flutes, accordion, whispered harmonies, until the whole room seemed suspended between prayer and panic. Then silence — heavy, stunned. This isn’t just a band playing songs. It’s six people refusing to die of heartbreak, and dragging us with them.

There’s a temptation to call this Black Country, New Road’s final form, as though they’ve completed some video-game level. In truth it’s better: they’ve burned their own blueprint and rebuilt from the ash. They are not who they were, and they never will be again — which is why they’re so bloody vital now. It’s friendship through fire, beauty wrung from disaster, a Normal People soundtrack played by demons in mourning dress.

If you want comfort, look elsewhere. If you want proof that music can still cut you open and make you grateful for the wound, this is it.

Article: Angela Canavan

The annual fest of noise, CORE, lived up to expectations. A weekend of headbanging, two-stepping and crowd surfing along to a large variety of bands across the two venues: Woodside Halls and The Hug & Pint. I went along to capture and enjoy the Friday and Saturday.

Friday started with a bang at The Hug & Pint, the venue packed in anticipation for God Alone from Cork, Ireland. Their math-rock melodies brought the high energy needed to kick off the fest.

Over at Woodside Halls, the main stage began with doom metal outfit OMO, who are no strangers to the CORE stage. The vocalist, dressed in a striking bright red habit, was a comedic juxtaposition to their damning sound, making for one of the most memorable sets of the weekend.

The melodic three-piece Helms Alee followed, their complex and hypnotic compositions entrancing the crowd. With vocals shared by all three members, the result was a rich sound blending harsh and soulful moments.

Stoner rock legends Torche closed the evening on an upbeat and ferocious note, returning after a three-year hiatus. This was met with a joyous reaction from the crowd, with many fans leaving with big smiles on their faces.

Day two brought an eclectic mix of noise, with artists from Glasgow’s hardcore scene taking the forefront early in the day. Gout delivered a particularly deafening and angry performance at The Hug & Pint, setting a high bar for the following acts.

Shooting Daggers brought the energy to Stage 2, flying the flag for female and queer fans. Their hardcore riffs and beatdowns, combined with punk-like vocals, fuelled a frenetic set. Encouraging women and queer fans to the front to dance, this was not men’s time.

The two-piece hardcore noise band Moni Jitchell opened the main stage with their eccentric performance style and ferocious guitar work. A highlight of the set came when vocalist Grant Donaldson left the stage to perform among the crowd.

One of the most unique performances came from noise-rock band Ditz, a personal highlight on Stage 2. Turning off the main lights and letting only dim natural light in from above set the mood for a noisy yet emotional performance. The vocalist casually swung the hanging pendants and wandered through the crowd as if they weren’t even there, keeping everyone on the edge of their metaphorical seats.

Leeds hardcore favourites Pest Control kept the momentum alive on the main stage, following a strong and powerful set from fellow female-fronted band Roman Candle. Two-stepping and side-to-side pits carried on throughout Pest Control’s set, with fans grabbing the mic and crowd surfing from the stage. This energy perfectly set up melodic hardcore heavyweights Defeater, who closed the main stage with the ideal mix of singalongs and headbanging.

Saturday was a packed day, with a variety of artists across the two venues and three stages—many of whom I didn’t manage to catch at The Hug & Pint.

Overall, the two days had something for everyone. The energy across the weekend was fantastic, with many people reuniting with familiar faces and meeting new friends. The array of merchandise and vendors was impressive—there was even a vegan bake stall. Next year can only be bigger and better, with the exciting news of possible new venues. We’ll see what’s to come!

Article: Reanne McArthur

From the minute the first note is struck, the stage is laid bare.

A black hole, a rollercoaster ride with seatbelts firmly off.

Sublimely savage synth-punk outfit The Scaners beamed down to Sleazy’s from intercontinental space station Dept. 69… that’s Lyon, France to you, mes amis.

What a band. What a night. Utterly spellbinding and all-consuming. A full-throttle, intergalactic shot between your eyes – a musical extravaganza. Iggy × Devo. The Rezillos × early Roxy. Alien Nosejob’s long-lost sibling. Do you get the idea?

Ignore any preconceptions you may have regarding French music and their ability to “do” punk, or any variant of it. All but a few songs are sung in English, with the Gallic swagger adding an extra element of je ne sais quoi and Tabasco that is almost unrivalled.

The energy and drive of this band are impossible to describe or do justice to. Tonight’s standouts are without doubt newer songs such as Brutal City, Satellite Rain and No Return. So fast, so frantic, so brilliant.

Pierre Scaner, wearing Captain Sensible-esque blue sunglasses and a single black glove, leads from the front – a frenetic and mesmerising theatrical attack. The synth and effects add multi-layered depths to the booming bass supplied by Nick Scaner, alongside the snarling, sparkling gold Telecaster (actually a Sordocaster) played by “gun-for-hire” Lou. All of this is held together by the cool Pierrick Scaner, hitting the skins like Tommy Ramone – hard, fast, and unflustered.

Being in a band is almost like being in a gang or a tribe – togetherness, bonded by a shared aesthetic or belief. The Scaners, clad in black and white denim, wear their hearts and manifesto firmly on their sleeves. The Ramones it is not… and yet you know what it is. It is understood. You are drawn in because, although the thread that links all those punk bands and electronic pioneers to this band might be invisible, the connection is tangible and real. The Scaners are not copyists; they are an evolution of the bands you love – with an added hard-hitting sci-fi synth aesthetic that truly sets them apart.

The Scaners didn’t come from outer space, but they had come a long way to be with us. Tonight’s crowd didn’t need to be won over. Most were there because they already knew how good it would be – and, like them, I believed!

À la prochaine, mes amis.

Words: Nick Tamer

Images: Chris Hogge

Another night at a sold-out SWG3 Galvanizer, and Scene Queen is poised to kick off the first date of her Hot Shows In Your Area tour. But before her candy-coated chaos takes hold, the evening opens with a pair of acts who waste no time turning the venue into a pressure cooker.

Brighton duo Lake Malice burst onto the stage with a relentless fusion of metalcore, hyperpop, and nu-metal. Their sound is volatile but razor-sharp—bristling with intensity and impossible to ignore. The performance feels like a jolt of electricity: dynamic, high-voltage, and consistently on the verge of collapse in the best possible way. Audience engagement is instant, with every breakdown drawing roars from the floor. By the time they close with the blistering “Bloodbath,” the hunger in the room is palpable, as though the set ended too soon.

A few minutes later, London’s GIRLI flips the atmosphere on its head with a kaleidoscopic blast of cyber-sugar pop laced with garage beats, J-pop inflections, and a kawaii gloss. Her set radiates attitude and humour in equal measure, balancing youthful defiance with playful hooks. Tracks like “Nothing Hurts Like a Girl,” “Hot Mess,” and “Matriarchy” bounce between bratty and anthemic, carried by her sharp charisma. If Lake Malice left the crowd buzzing on raw aggression, GIRLI harnesses that energy and redirects it into pure, unfiltered fun.

Then, the room transforms. When Scene Queen finally takes the stage, SWG3 morphs into a bubblegum-core fantasyland: a sugar-pink fever dream where hardcore breakdowns collide with unapologetic pop spectacle. It’s more than a gig—it’s a theatrical ritual of provocation, empowerment, and communal release.

Scene Queen’s Bimbocore aesthetic threads through every moment of her set, from the neon visuals to the feral breakdowns that send the floor into chaos. Tracks like BDSM, Finger, Pink Hotel, MILF, and the newly released Platform Shoes hit with equal parts gloss and grit. Anthems like Pink Panther, Mutual Masturbation, Barbie & Ken, Pink Rover, and 18+ aren’t just played—they’re lived, each one a weaponised blend of pop hooks and feminist fury.

But what elevates Scene Queen beyond theatrics is her insistence on community. She doesn’t just perform to the audience—she folds them into the show, inducting fans onstage into her mock “sorority,” a tongue-in-cheek ritual that doubles as genuine collective bonding. The crowd responds in kind: screaming, moshing, and belting every lyric as if the songs belong to them.

SWG3’s industrial intensity provides the perfect backdrop, amplifying the contrast between sweetness and savagery. The night rides high on the friction of extremes: aggressive riffs and candy-pink aesthetics, snarling breakdowns and glittering choruses. By the end, it feels less like a concert and more like a neon-lit power surge—one fuelled by joy, rage, and the radical promise of pop spectacle.

Article: Marco Cornelli

A packed and warm evening at Audio Glasgow.

MasterPeace kicked things off with crowd-rousing indie-rhythm tracks, flirting with rap, dance, and soulful hooks that got bodies moving and hearts pounding. Their layered refrains and infectious bounce set the stage perfectly, engaging the crowd and raising anticipation for the main act.

Then, the silhouette of Ecca Vandal exploded into view—her presence instant and undeniable: blue hair, bright yellow stockings patterned with tattoo-style graphics, and the clear intent to tear the place down. From the first chord, she wove between funk grooves, pop anthems, hip-hop cadence, and punk grit, opening with major hits such as Bleed But Never Die and Your Orbit.

The audience felt every beat, every lyric; she rode the crowd, smashed the stage, and wrapped the room in her energy. Transitions were sharp and the intensity relentless through tracks like Future Heroine, Battle Royal, and End of Time, which brought the house down.

After thanking the crowd for being part of the show, Ecca closed on a triumphant high with an encore—powerhouse songs like Cold of the World and Broke Days, Party Nights. She jammed among the audience, leaving everyone breathless, sweating, and buzzing.

This night at Audio Glasgow was a collision of raw talent and communal intimacy. MasterPeace brought contagious verve, while Ecca Vandal blew the roof off with her genre-defying performance and fearless connection to the audience. For anyone there, it wasn’t just a gig, but a true musical moment—one that embodies what small-venue concerts are meant to be: electric, personal, and unforgettable.

Article: Marco Cornelli