I recently read a review in ‘Drowned in Sound’ from 2001 which compared the respective scenes and legacies of Leeds and Manchester; offering up Joy Division, Happy Mondays, and The Smiths as representative of the latter, and Black Lace, Chumbawumba and The Music as representative of the latter. Of course, it was bollocks then, but the last decade has seen Leeds spawn a plethora of truly astounding bands, three of whom ae out tonight in support of the launch of the headliners’ second album.
Irk may be relatively new on the scene, but having previously impressed supporting Pissed Jeans not so long ago, the bass/ drums / shouty vocal trio really hammer it as the opening act at tonight’s free show. To think people have paid £12 to see (and seeming stand at the bar and talk through) a Smiths tribute band in the next room seems utterly absurd.
Post War Glamour Girls are on the eve of the release of their second album, and as such, play a set focused on their future hits rather than their past successes. ‘Little Land’ – one of their oldest tracks to feature on their debut album – opens the set with a menacing swagger.
Things rapidly step up a gear with the stomping ‘Felonius Punk’. James Anthony Smith looks intense and focused as he bellows and hollers his way through ‘Gustave’, and they’re joined on stage by Billy Mason-Wood of Blacklisters for ‘Lolong’, which appeared on 7” earlier in the year. The set ends with James in full Mark E Smith mode, mic stands strewn about the stage as he raves into a pair of microphones pressed tightly to his lips It’s a spectacle, for sure, but also an appropriate conclusion to a strong show.
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What a difference a week makes. Or, moreover, what a difference a city and a week makes: not that the audience was apathetic when Blacklisters played York the week before, but at the legendary Brudenell (albeit in the second room, aka the refurbished and restructured games room) and in front of a home crowd, the reception is almost infinitely more fervent.
From the moment the foursome slam in with the grinding riff of ‘Shirts’, a fair segment of crowd starts going berserk, and the moshpit only increases in size and intensity as they grind and squall and batter and holler their way through a set that focuses largely on the new album. ‘Adult’. And so it should: not only is it an album launch, but it’s a great album, bursting with aggression and driving noise.
As ever, Billy’s banter – stumbling, off-the-wall, irreverent – is entertaining, and integral to the band’s appeal, but never once does his chat impinge on the set’s momentum. There are moments when he’s lost in the crowd, and others when the crowd threaten to engulf the stage, and that’s exactly how it should be. Chaos reigns, but here isn’t a moment the band don’t hold it together, churning out the riffs amidst the mayhem. There are infinite reasons to love Blacklisters, and on home turf, they launched ‘Adult’ in style.
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