“I swear the green room is bigger than this fuckin’ room,” laughs Sam King before launching into forty five minutes of Get Dead’s hardcore two-tone shaded punk, and he had a point.  The Old Blue Last is tiny, the live music area is a metaphorical cupboard-above-the-stairs at the elegantly ruined Shoreditch boozer. The Fat Wreck alumni are a DIY punk triumph (“We don’t need to practice, we don’t need a shit-ass manager neither…,” proclaims King at one point), a So-Cal Capdown, pitting their rage against the system over those staircase Rancid-esque baselines and big punk drumbeats. The second the ska chords to ‘Disruption’ drop, every head in the place starts to nod.  King judders and twitches like he’s in the electric chair, spitting out bullets to share the band’s story of survival through the years. Their set is emotionally honest, varying from the melodically rough ‘Stickup’ to the satirical degenerate country of ‘Fuck You’, and in a scene that can sometimes seem drenched in performative gestures, there’s an unvarnished rawness about their performance which grabs you by the shoulders. 

Codefendants were the reason that most of the crowd were there, however. Comprised of King, Fat Mike and rapper Ceschi Ramos, their recent album drop traded genre boundaries for emotional exploration and, in their ill-fitting court suits, there was a moment where their power over the crowd hung in the balance. But then, a simple jangling of an acoustic guitar and a rasp in King’s throat as he opened the desolate ‘Suicide by Pigs’ and that was it; they’d reached into our hardened chests, through our battered leather jackets and given our hearts a squeeze. Opening with their most brutal song was a brave move, but the whole set was a hop, skip and jump out of their comfort zone. There were no hip-hop samples or effects, no bluster or ego (Ramos chose to open ‘Prison Camp’ by sharing his regret at the course his life took which led to his incarceration, for instance) and no pretension. For a band which claimed to be influenced by flamenco and The Beatles, there was purity in their stripped down performance which relied on laying bare their own failings to a thrash guitar. ‘Abscessed’ builds up like a storm waiting to break, and when the guitar starts tapping out the tension, there’s a clap-along as we feel like we’re teetering on the edge of a cliff, ready to fall until the power in that ska bass pulls us back. The fists to the sky rage was barely contained in this small venue, released in the beat. Cesce’s vocals are far more gritty in real life, which proves the point that Codefendants are trying to prove; ‘punk’ is much more than a genre or a single style of delivery. 

Fat Mike was notably absent for most of the set, making a short appearance on guitar around twenty minutes in. In some ways this was admirable, letting his friends take the spotlight and letting his music speak for itself rather than use the show as a meet and greet. Codefendants were none the poorer for his absence though. ‘Brutiful’ became a personal sharing of truths with very little accompaniment, a therapy session on a graffiti covered street corner.  Ramos performs offstage for more than a few numbers, and this creates a crowd formed of all of us, wherever we started. We are all we have, and we’re a cathartic serene mob, feeling that genuine sense of self flow out between us all. 

As if the quality of Codefendants’ live performance wasn’t enough of a surprise, Melvinator followed. Eric Melvin’s new project and alter-ego is huge, euphoric dance metal in the vein of a Pendulum set at Cyberdog with Melvin’s infamous blue dreads flying in all directions with each jump. He’d been working an EDM-punk rock mashup project since the pandemic, and now it’s come to fruition, it’s a glorious thing to behold. With a reworking of ‘American Errorist’ mixed in with songs that hadn’t even been titled or recorded yet, Melvin seems to be powered by a sense of creative urgency, a need to fling his songs out into the electric universe to see where they land.  It’s a forty five minute relentless disco set that gets the jaded old crusties full on raving as the sun sets over East London, and it’s a truly wonderful experience. 

As Melvin finished his set, Fat Mike crept on stage so that when the guitarist turned, the first thing he would get was a warm embrace from his friend. Their hug received it’s own applause. That gesture seemed to summarise the whole show – the two halves of the NOFX sound have parted ways musically but emotionally, they’re as close as ever. Fat Mike’s taken this chance to explore his roots through a diverse group of musicians united by an outsider aesthetic, and Melvin’s chipped off a piece of his soul and sent it spinning out of this galaxy powered by EDM. Two hours of the Codefendants and you’d be ready to launch a molotov cocktail at the nearest corporate symbol, and two hours of Melvin’s music in a warehouse would make for the New Year’s squat party of the century. Both men united forty years ago to create an era defining band, but now the musical avenues they’re both walking are very different but equally as brilliant. 

KATE ALLVEY

With barely an introduction, Dead Sara take their positions and launch straight into ‘Heroes’ from last year’s ‘Ain’t It Tragic’,  the trio are joined by bassist Alyssa Davey from fellow LA-based band Sego for these live shows. The capacity crowd start tapping feet and nodding heads along with the grunge beat and chunky riffs, with the power of frontwoman Emily Armstrong’s voice soon reverberating around the room. Soaring “oohs” give way to more guttural screams as they follow the opening track with ‘Lemon Scent’ from the band’s eponymous debut album release back in 2012. The venue’s lighting flicks strobes across the stage as the intensity rises for band and crowd alike.

Throughout the evening, Dead Sara deliver hits spanning their career over the past decade, and although there’s a noticeable difference between the raw sincerity of their earlier work and the more developed sound from the latest release, it all gels together in a coherent mish-mash of genre -hopping style unique to the band’s core.

By the time we get to ‘L.A. City Slum’ from 2015’s ‘Pleasure To Meet You’, Armstrong surveys the crowd and takes a moment to exclaim “Wow, I can’t believe we made it” with a mixed sense of pride and disbelief that is both pragmatic and endearing at the same time. The faster-paced triple beat leads seamlessly into the blues-drenched rhythm and groove riffs of ‘Mona Lisa’, prompting a crowd hum-along that highlights the intimacy of shows in smaller venues. Humming gives way to singing as Dead Sara really break into their stride, bolstered by scores of voices joining Armstrong to proclaim “I know what you want but it’s not gonna be what you like”.

The blues influences continue with a collection of tracks from the latest album, ‘Ain’t It Tragic’. ‘Hypnotic’ delivers an infectious groove beat, ‘Gimme Gimme’ sees the band ooze with charisma driven by guitarist Siouxsie Medley’s catchy riffs, while ‘Good Times’ is peppered with a combination of Armstrong’s pitch-perfect vibrato and emotionally fuelled screams asking “Are we all just dying to feel human?”

Taking a moment to recover from jumping all over the stage with raucous energy, Armstrong introduces the delicate ‘Face to Face’ from their self-titled first album. The rawness of her impassioned vocals exudes an enigmatic power that is simultaneously vulnerable and entirely self-assured. This total change of pace and touching moment is marred only by a few revellers continuing their loud conversations by the bar.

Swiftly returning to a hefty mix of rock’n’roll guitars, punchy drums and wild abandon, Dead Sara lift the energy in the room once again with the triple force of moody ‘Mr. Mr.’,  rock anthem ‘Unamerican’ from 2018 EP ‘Temporary Things Taking Up Space’, and ‘All I Know is That You Left Me for Dead’, which showcases drummer Sean Friday’s expertise, interjecting the pulsating rhythm with slick drum rolls.

The dynamic between the band and the crowd has grown organically over the course of the night, with a couple of shoutouts from stage to floor and a few fan declarations of admiration flying back towards the stage punctuating the latter part of the set. Closing with fan favourite ‘Weatherman’, the whole venue hits an energy peak, with Armstrong climbing on the drum kit and making one final request for the crowd to “jump with me on the count of 4”. Everyone is on a high as the band leave as humbly as they arrived, the echoes of the last notes fade and a sweaty, buzzing crowd begin to file out into the balmy East London night air.

Despite grafting for years, this is the first time Dead Sara have headlined a UK show, and with an appearance at Brighton’s Great Escape festival and another sold-out show at Signature Brew, they’ve clearly begun to establish a dedicated fanbase this side of the pond. What the rest of 2022 holds in store for Dead Sara remains to be seen but if tonight’s show is anything to go by, we should all be very excited.

ELLIE ODURNY

First up are Whenyoung, an Irish-born London-based three piece, who breeze onstage and slide into their wistful indie gems like total professionals. While the blue and red boiler suits of guitarist Niall Burns and drummer Andrew Flood are visually memorable, its the cooed hooks of bassist/singer Aoife Power that are the band’s strength, particularly ‘Given Up’ and ‘Actor,’ both danceable alt-rock anthems that wouldn’t sound out of place on Radio 1’s ‘A List’. Everyone enjoys it, not so much dancing as bobbing their heads in recognition, but when the band ends and starts to pack up the atmosphere settles down a little too quickly.

Then Charly Bliss bound onstage. The moment whiskey swigging frontwoman Eva Hendricks shoots a giant grin towards the crowd it’s reciprocated by just about everyone in attendance. Opener ‘Percolator’ follows, rumbling into existence as the band springs to life like four living, breathing cartoon characters. Spencer Fox and Dan Shure weave their respective guitar and bass parts together with an inbuilt sense of Brooklyn cool, while the Hendricks siblings hold down the fort, drummer Sam pounding the skins like a man possessed, Eva delivering every bubblegum hook with her trademark helium pipes. Cuts from this year’s debut album ‘Guppy’ are all highlights, especially ‘Black Hole’, which becomes a thousand times more anthemic in a live context, and ‘Ruby,’ a diamond that echoes early Weezer with its pure pop vocal melodies and earworm guitar solo. A couple of new songs are thrown in for good measure, both which elicit rapturous applause, while older tracks ‘Urge To Purge’ and ‘Love Me’ whip the die hards at the front into a friendly riot.

And then there’s the rest of the crowd. Those who entered the room aloof have thrown away their metaphorical vintage hats and are beaming from ear to ear, some even headbanging and pogoing like 90s kids in their bedrooms. It’s like Charly Bliss’ little displays of internal connection (foreheads pressed together, back-to-back showboating) have disarmed the crowd, and everyone suddenly realises it’s okay to let their hair down. This peaks during joyous encore ’Steal My Sunshine’ – a cover of one hit wonder Len that a large chunk of the crowd has no problem belting every word to before ambling down the venue’s rickety staircase and back into the Shoreditch cold.

But the effect of the show lingers. It takes a special band to cut through ego. At only their second ever non-US show, Charly Bliss transformed a hoard of self-conscious London hipsters into a bunch of carefree children. No doubt next time they roll into town, there’ll be even more.

LEO TROY

Support comes from two Brighton based groups the first of which is Watchcries. Featuring ex-members of Torpor and Dopefight, Watchcries quickly establish themselves as they rip into their discordant blend of death metal and hardcore. With breakdowns and grooves that are simply impossible not to headbang to, vocalist Nats Spada brings her intense performance down to floor level, making Watchcries act simply inescapable.

Up next is Rough Hands who’ve come a long way since their earlier years, opting to let their style and sound mature over time rather than churn out the same typical hardcore record time and time again. Incorporating some slightly more atmospheric ideas into their music, Rough Hands have managed to create an entirely unique sound of their own. Their performance is both mesmerising and almost haunting at times, chilling chords that send a shiver down the spine compliment their devastating breakdowns. Both of which are adorned by Alex Dench’s piercingly high pitch screams as he looms above the crowd with a slightly contorted but dominant presence. There is an air of mystery surrounding Rough Hands and despite seeing them in the flesh, it seems nobody is any the wiser as to what that is exactly.

As “Sweden’s loudest boy band” Grieved take the stage there’s a bittersweet feeling to their act. For a band that have a considerable number of releases under their belt, it does feel as though this band never quite got the attention they deserved which feels even more evident by the number of people in attendance. Head counts aside, Grieved put on a formidable show playing their own brand of darkened hardcore at volume levels that one might only imagine possible on a of Spinal Tap amplifier.

A whirlwind of raw emotion and snarling aggression, frontman Marcus Lundqvist delivers each and every lyric as though it’s his last desperate breath. As well as clouting himself in the head with his microphone Lundqvist and Grieved give a spectacular, note for note perfect performance.

As the evening and this exhibit of young talent draws to a close there’s no obviously sad or upset emotions on display but rather a room full of people looking on with respect as Grieved’s swan song comes to an end. It’s more upsetting that Grieved never seemed to get the attention they deserved but those who weren’t there to witness their relatively short run as a band are sure to be the ones kicking themselves in the future. There’s not many current bands that perform with such passion and conviction as Grieved which is why it’s such a shame to see them go.

JAMES DAVENPORT

70s rock-influenced punk weirdos WACO played exactly like how you would expect a punk band in the upstairs venue of a pub to play. Despite the occasional odd dance move and baffling crowd banter, WACO put on a genuinely uplifting live show. Their music itself might not be anything particularly revolutionary, but a lot of bands could take notice of the way they played and the funny and entertaining ways the crowd were involved with the show.

Those who have already had the extreme pleasure of witnessing The Dirty Nil playing live can testify that if they are one thing, it is “cool”. Before they even played a single note the crowd were entirely on board with everything that singer Luke Bentham did, and when he produced things like his unique Canadian drawl to talk to the crowd, or blowing a bubble with his gum whilst playing a guitar solo, all eyes of the crowd were on him.

Most of The Dirty Nil’s set was taken from this year’s seminal record ‘Higher Power’, with songs like opening number ‘No Weaknesses’ and ‘Wrestle Yü To Hüsker Dü’ (played slightly slower to give it a real heavy grunge feeling) Bentham needn’t have bothered singing – everyone in that room knew all of the words and were singing along with pride and joy. They also threw in an unexpected and brilliant cover of The Misfit’s ‘Last Caress’. Just because they could.

It’s entirely possible that The Dirty Nil may pull a Rise Against – drop the punk side a bit, write fantastic hard rock songs and become a massive band and sell out arenas. Or they may spend the rest of their days playing sweaty punk shows above pubs to a few hundred rabid fans. But either way they are going to be outstanding at it.

Birmingham’s SHVPES kick off tonight’s proceedings, crushing speed and aggression together to create brutal, furious riffs and breakdowns in the form of ‘State Of Mind’. Frontman Griffin Dickinson throws himself across the room time and time again, delivering his strong and steady vocals to the packed room. SHVPES are certainly a fresh and exciting band and, with a new album in the works, are definitely ones to watch.

Dead! have really pipped people’s interest lately, and it’s not difficult to understand why when they launch into a frenzied set. With a vocalist that looks like the love child of The 1975’s Matt Healy and a sound that’s reminiscent of the late My Chemical Romance, they really know how to work the room. Tracks like ‘We Are Dead!’ and ‘Skin’ are huge, fleshed out with riffs that simply roar. The band’s presence is also huge as is their confidence, which is sultry and swaggering. They’re far too big for this tiny stage, and deserve to be playing to bigger rooms.

Black Foxxes have graced Shoreditch with their presence tonight, as they’re currently in the middle of writing and recording a new album. They sound incredibly tight and fresh as they blaze through a rather short but very sweet set. They’re loud, imposing, and incredibly gifted. Their riffs are razor-sharp, and sweetly complement their thunderous drum work. Black Foxxes are a well-oiled and slick machine, ensuring that no gimmicks are involved with their brand of unique and unflinching rock music.

Headliners Young Guns simply shine from the start. They play a varied catalogue, dusting off old tracks such as ‘Daughter Of the Sea’ for a rousing sing-along, whilst showcasing newer tracks, such as the electrifying ‘Daylight’. Frontman Gustav Wood bounces across the stage constantly, with a smile plastered across his face, as they crunch out blistering tracks that are full of power. They combine catchy hooks and melodic choruses to bring ‘Winter Kiss’, whilst ‘Stitches’ is poignant.

Whilst they may not necessarily be ‘Ones to Watch’, Young Guns have been a sheer delight tonight, which is shown by their fans dedication – one girl proudly declared that she’s been to 52 of their shows so far since the beginning of their career. As they sign off the adrenaline-fuelled ‘Bones’, it’s clear that Young Guns aren’t going to be leaving anytime soon.

JESS TAGLIANI

Photo not taken at The Old Blue Last

The Old Blue Last show was a joy to be at. Who can fail to have fun on a line up that includes The Smith Street Band and Astpai? Check out the photos below.

Having arrived too late to catch Gnarwolves and The Long Haul, “special guests” Veils arrive with a huge dose of their visceral blend of post-rock and screamo in the mould of bands like Pianos Become The Teeth and Defeater. Showcasing tracks from recent EP ‘Clarity’, it’s easy to see why the profile of this band has grown so quickly in a short space of time. Vocalist Chlo Edwards has the crowd eating out of the palm of her hand from the off, inciting a frenzied reaction more expected of bands that have been together than their two years. Expect even bigger things to come from this Cornish collective.

Since vocalist Mario “Mazz” Gambardella’s return from a period of travelling down under (which inspired the rather hilarious “#FREEMAZZ” t-shirt campaign), Pariso have really stepped up their game to the next level. Mixing the ‘cores of the metal-, grind- and hard- variety, Pariso “bring the crush” tonight in their recent vein of frankly phenomenal live showings. Tracks from 2012 full-length ‘Nothing Beyond Everything After’ sit comfortably alongside old favourites such as ‘House Of Squalor’ and ‘Lundqvist’, and the sound is quite significantly beefed up by former run,WALK! bassist (the duo play their farewell shows this summer) and OBL event organiser Matt Pickering-Copley. The floor is utter mayhem throughout, with the band inspiring a wall-of-death and a human pyramid surrounded by a circle pit (which yours truly was more than happy to be at the foundation of).

Bastions arrive on stage next. Another curveball in terms of the variety on hand tonight, the North Wales mob mix crust-punk in the vein of Trap Them and Cursed, technical riff-heavy hardcore along the lines of The Chariot and even a hefty dose of post-metal a la Cult Of Luna to devastating effect. The set features cuts from well-received LP Hospital Corners alongside a new number for an upcoming EP recorded with “Jags” Jago, formerly of The Ghost Of A Thousand. Again, the band are rapturously recieved by the audience, with ‘Augury’ sparking an en-masse stage invasion.

As Kerouac storm into ‘Heavy Hearted’ for the very last time, everyone in the room approaches something akin to pure emotional euphoria. Utter chaos ensues as the four-piece thrash through their sublime ‘Cold And Distant, Not Loving’ EP in running order, followed by select cuts from their discography, which will be made available in 12 inch wax glory later on this year by Tangled Talk Records – however, any recording cannot encapsulate how great this show is turning out to be. The band play fast, loose and ferocious hardcore, and every fierce word that leaves vocalist Thom Denson’s mouth is screamed back at him ten times louder. It’s probably not quite the best show they’ve ever played, but anyone who’s caught one of the countless gigs they’ve played over the last few years knows what a ridiculously high bar they’ve set themselves, and the momentous reception they recieve clearly leaves them overwhelmed – the band repay in spades.

The evening wasn’t without its faults; the lack of entry fee and intimate setting of the show came at the price of those who didn’t get in due to the place filling out early and adopting a “one-in, one-out” policy. Most certainly wouldn’t have minded paying a tenner to have seen this at the Underworld, for instance. However, every band tonight was at the very top of their game. Kerouac will be sorely missed, but with bands like these around, the scene remains in safe hands. A serious contender for the show of 2012, and the certain amount of “bangover” or “Kerou-ache” left on Monday is one that will stand long in memory. RIP Kerouac, RIP #UKSWELL, long live nights like these.

OLLIE CONNORS