Reviewed and photographed by Thomas Needham
It’s 5pm somewhere I thought, Red Stripe in hand, basking in the sun billowing down upon The Big Difference. Sat alongside the lovely fellas in local band, Ant Hill, we all felt rather fragile, a potent mix of sleep deprivation and the previous night’s booze hanging in the air. Aside from that we were eagerly accosted by a quirky character divulging a disjointed deluge of cryptocurrency, condoms and ‘conquering Leicester’. Part of me wanted to indulge him further but time was of the essence as Ant Hill took to the stage below. Bestowing the weary traveller with what was left of my Red Stripe, I set off on my own journey down as the crawlers began to creep.
As is the case with all day festivals, there must be a sacrificial lamb to draw first blood – unfortunately, it was Ant Hill upon the altar. In the face of… well not much, Ant Hill gave a markedly applaudable yet routine performance. Using the same setlist as my last review (read here), the band don’t need me to wax lyrical about embracing change- they promised it themselves. With word of a new sound and setlist hot off the heels of their first singles, I urge anyone interested to keep their eyes peeled. Any band that seeks to push themselves outside of the comfort of their pre-established work has my support, regardless of whether it pans out, and Ant Hill are already deserving of your attention. To surmise, new drummer Sam McLean is a grand addition to the quartet, Pedestrian is just as biblical as ever and Ant Hill continue their immutable rise up my favourite Leicester bands list.
It was only after trawling up the stairs from the basement of The Big Difference to see the sun blazing down onto the highstreet that I fully comprehended the task before me. One down, ten to go. In hindsight, I could have really done with the rest of that Red Stripe.
Organised by Jace of That Creep Records, Creepy Crawlers marks the first day festival to be held at The Big Difference (previously The Cookie for those who have been around the block far longer than I). I just want to take this time to express my appreciation for the time and effort that went into putting this event on. From the eclectic mix of bands to the endless passion displayed by everyone I had the pleasure of meeting and talking to throughout the day, I had a grand old time. For all those working at The Big Difference, on the door, on the bar and on sound (hope you had a happy birthday Lewis), to That Creep Records (especially Jace) and all the bands who attended, some of whom had to travel yonks to grace us with their performance – thank you.
I usually save this for the end of my reviews but while I have your attention, please spread the word about Leicester’s music scene and support these great artists. It’s a hard graft and we can’t take these musicians, venues and people for granted. There’s no time to quibble, get stuck in and celebrate our city. Nobody else is going to do it for us. Have we not collectively had it up to here constantly playing third fiddle to Nottingham and Birmingham? Now Vardy’s kicked it, can we finally focus our efforts on something far better than football?
Back down below, it was all smiles from Bristol-based band INDIGO. Their interpersonal chemistry on full display, they were clearly and uniquely comfortable in their own company, which is good considering they weren’t the last band to point out The Big Difference’s ever-subtle use of the smoke machine. Personally, I’ve come to love it but perhaps it’s a different story for performers when they can’t actually see the audience. Regardless, by INDIGO’s set there was a considerably healthier turnout, especially compared to Ant Hill. This was no doubt assisted by the 40-minutes delay allowing for people to begin steadily arriving at the venue; something that persisted throughout the day as people came and went and came back again.
Filling out their sound with a synth backing track, INDIGO are a sleek machine headed up by singer Margo; their vocals are controlled, mournful and yet an almost feathery affair compared to the heavy 90s-esc grunge of her bandmates. While guitarist Joey Kenny and bassist Sonnet Fitzgerald Jones brought a physicality to the stage with their headbanging, it was drummer William Vergonnet who brought a real fierceness to the set. Songs that saw the band at their most ballistic such as OD and especially Fallen Out gave him ample opportunity to go absolutely hog wild in a thrillingly extravagant onslaught of crashing cymbals and toms, completely dominating his bandmates.
Three-piece DreamCage followed INDIGO with a smaller sound that was as straight as an arrow. No pedals, no backing track, no extra fluff – DreamCage lays it all out as it is and there’s a genuine charm to that.
Introducing their upcoming single Pinch, drummer Max Kennedy establishes a jittery drum line as bassist Carys Maggs and frontman Ed Storer provide a funky back and forth. Frontman Ed Storer is almost catatonic on stage, his eyes glazed over, lost in the music as he takes on rhythm and lead guitar duties simultaneously, something that he pulls off with an effortless finesse. Immediately following this showcase of their latest material came the first song they ever wrote as a band, Fairweather Friend. One thought crossed my mind: that’s brave.
It’s refreshing to see an artist (somewhat begrudgingly) embrace their old work, not only does it make my job cataloging artistic development far easier (thanks guys) but it’s interesting to see the echoes of what’s to come and what’s remained the same.
The song itself harkens back to the sound of early-2000s alternative, with an intricate yet dirty descending riff that screams blackberries, MySpace and The Inbetweeners (or for me Purble Place, those plastic disposable cameras and tasteless multi-striped jumpers). In comparison Pinch is much more pliable to take its time, to have confidence to let the music breathe and develop naturally and to give the band’s rhythm section something a bit more tangible to chew on. Fairweather Friend is frantic to stuff entertaining, if oft-repeated ideas that remain largely static until the final solo. It’s clear that in the last three years, DreamCage are both more self-assured performers and songwriters while better utilising the restrictions of their sound that lacks the bells and whistles of their contemporaries. The band excels because of it, not in spite of it.
Alive? sees DreamCage at their most Green Day, which is odd because I think Green Day pong, yet this was my favourite song of the set. Putting Carys and Max front and centre gives the song an incessantly swanky jive and a solo that sees each member of the band put in their all.
While the EP version undercuts this with vocals washed in copious amounts of reverb which I don’t think convey the band’s strengths, there’s plenty to admire about the song itself. More than the band’s characteristic grungy string bending and swinging drums, there’s a real propulsion, the basis of something truly special. I hope they continue to experiment with this dance-punk fusion that allows them to plough through the audience with a blunt and reckless disregard. There’s a reason why Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not remains so seminal, if your sound is straightforward, you need to be utterly relentless, constantly iterating, constantly evolving and constantly putting each other through the proverbial musical ringer.
Once we’re all old, decrepit and millionaires, if you can’t see yourself looking back on your discography and thinking ‘Christ how did I do that?’, then you need to go harder. DreamCage have the makings of great things, I eagerly await their upcoming material. See our interview with DreamCage as they prepared for Creepy Crawlers here.
MIREPOIX (pronounced ‘meer-pwah’) were up next and thank god they rebranded from ‘Riff-Raff’ because their performance was nothing less than a tour de force. The folksy-violin waltz of Souls Apart comes a close second but the highlight of their set was absolutely the opener, Try To Fly.
I couldn’t get a look in at drummer Elliott Scambler due to a pair of comically large cymbals (a shame considering everyone was dressed to the nines) but you didn’t have to see him to pick up the intricate, intense and immersive rhythms that were being laid down. And when entwined with fellow sandwich connoisseur Louis Tong’s guitar that’s drowning 20,000 leagues under a sea of reverb, MIREPOIX sucks all the air out of the room.
Gareth Bennett-Allen’s finagling bass line contorts and interpolates as a twisting call-and-response during the pre-chorus in a way that really scratches your brain. It’s a clear jazz-fusion influence that I think veers off into an alt-prog rock sound that’s entirely unto itself.
God you can tell this lot are from Brighton- and you know what? It’s brilliant.
Singer Angel Harrington’s vocals are potentially the most technically proficient I’ve ever seen while covering Leicester’s music scene. There’s a tenderness and vulnerability to her refrains that gets completely trounced by an operatic agility that’s completely enrapturing. Having gone into their set entirely blind and unassuming left me all the more spellbound, they were only supposed to blow the bloody doors off- there’s still seven bands left to go! Anyway, I’ll wind my neck in- if you take anything away from this, do listen to Try To Fly. There’s something real funky going on with this lot. I like the cut of their jib.
Dusker, as one of the most eccentric and unique bands of the festival, were undoubtedly going to be the most divisive. Their style of hard/metal-math rock certainly won’t be for everyone but they remain steadfastly committed to their work and that’s enough for me. Frankly, it’s unlike anything I thought I’d see live (let alone in Leicester) but it’s a testament to the variety on show; kudos to Jace for bringing together such disparate sounds.
Guitarist Rory Booth and bassist Joe Zanjani proved that math rock isn’t just theory- it’s feeling. Swaying gently to-and-fro, lapping up intricate riffs as Todd Finnamore brought delightfully unconventional time signatures and polyrhythms with the kind of complexity that would make Jacob Collier blush. The music was ever-jilting, never giving you the opportunity to get too comfortable before abruptly pulling the rug out from under your feet. The band completely refused to level with the audience, it’s wonderfully uncompromising- simply trying to keep up with them was all part of the fun for me.
Stomping up and down the length of the stage, frontman Jordy Delaney was positively manic in the best way possible. Bringing a brilliant physicality to the performance; at one point he banged his head against the body of his guitar with such intensity that he all but knackered the strap causing the instrument to fall to the floor. It wasn’t even at his expense; it fit perfectly with the extremity of their sound and his unwavering on-stage persona. Dusker is like a puzzle box, they’re certainly a band to see again just so you can get one step closer to unravelling the mystique behind their uniquely cacophonous, labyrinthian sound.
‘Hello’ said the frontman of Nottingham-based goth-post punk band Bloodworm. ‘Hello frontman of Nottingham-based goth-post punk band ‘Bloodworm’’ I thought as they lurched into their opening number Back of a Hand (note: there was no setlist, so I’ve had to do some online skimming to get the song names, hopefully I’m not far off the mark).
With the same washed out despondency as bands like Killing Joke and Echo and The Bunnymen but with much better hair, I remember coming out of their performance fatigued, frankly, I hadn’t given them their due regards. Having listened back to the set with functioning ears, I must give them my apologies: Bloodworm, I was unfamiliar with your game.
George Curtis is an incredibly nonchalant frontman, perhaps it just contrasted with how much Dusker’s Jordy Delaney ravaged the scenery, but he didn’t capture my attention to the same extent. That was thoroughly a ‘me’ problem however, after a while I admittedly found it hard to adjust to such a varied mix of successive bands. With hindsight, I can confidently say George thrives in his role, his doleful stage presence, eyes affixed to the distance, is characteristic of the group’s gothic post-punk. Drummer Euan Stevens put such a hard graft in that mid-way through the set he started bleeding – how I underestimated Bloodworm in the moment is completely beyond me.
Although I’d say Chris Walker’s bass is serviceable by post-punk standards, I think getting cheekier with the melodies would do wonders for the band’s songs. For parts that are built on repetition, throw in more slides, chord and non-chord tones, experiment with octaves. Think Public Image Limited’s Swan Lake, Happy House by Siousxie and the Banshees or Myage by Descendants. Spice up your life!
The highlight of their set was undoubtedly Bats in the Attic. At full throttle, the group delivered a masterwork of the genre. I hope they end up releasing it officially because I’ve been constantly coming back to it, it’s simply delightful. The guitar glissading gracefully over a relentless rhythm section sees the band at their best. Maybe Nottingham isn’t so bad after all?
Forgive me father for Dum Language have consistently managed to pass me by. Finding out their EP released in February left me scratching my head over how I managed to completely miss the bus on that one – oopsie. Now at long last, I’ve got the chance to take stock, and with a setlist consisting of said EP, I won’t let this opportunity to kill two birds with one stone pass me by.
Their EP marks a left-turn from the band’s early grunge sound as seen on singles like DOMINOES to a more conventional, indie-rock that has made the band one of Leicester’s most popular homegrown talents. Songs like If You Wanna lift the essence of Squeeze’s Up The Junction transforming the flowery power pop hit into a heavier, pulpier alternative venture, which is quite amusing because the subject matter of Dum Language’s iteration is far less harrowing than the song it draws from.
Barring the peculiar quirk where the levelling of songs like Call U Back and Mr No Name are significantly louder than the rest of the album, the EP is undoubtedly tight and cohesive. Frankly, if occasionally inconsistent levelling is the worst it gets, then you’re sitting pretty. Each song is incredibly well-conceived and signifies a band confident in its sound and direction; if bassist Dean Brown’s capable audience management is anything to go by, Dum Language knows it too. They’ve got it cracked and now the only way is up- it’s simply a question of how quickly.
While DreamCage’s Max Kennedy (filling in as a temporary drummer) has a little less swish than the EP recordings of say Picture That, replacing its syncopation with a straighter routine, this is a consequence of style rather than skill. Frankly, anybody who had the brass balls to question Max’s skill was hung thoroughly out to dry by the final song of the set.
Close your eyes. Actually, no- don’t close your eyes; that’d just make this entire exercise futile. Just imagine getting on stage in front of a crowd of people to perform a song you don’t know. Now you have to come up with a convincing performance on the spot… Well imagine no longer because that’s exactly what Max had to do. In a final instrumental that magpies the hook from the Arctic Monkeys song If You Were There Beware, perhaps alluding to new material in the works, he more than held his own – many kudos to him.
There’s not much to say about the song in-and-of-itself but I’m happy for people to improve the many half-baked ideas that appear on Favourite Worst Nightmare. Remember kids, D is for D-tier album. Them’s the brakes pal.
The audience was happy to get up and jig to the jaunty Not Like The Movies driven by Billy Cotton’s vivacious, incessantly strummed rhythm guitar, to marvel at singer and lead guitarist Bradley Jordan’s intricate hook on the waltzy Interlude and to belt along to Dean’s vocal harmonisations on Mr No Name. On principle, I refuse to pick a particular favourite, it’s like choosing your favourite child- sacrilege!
Leicester’s music scene has fallen victim to what I shall tentatively dub the ‘Dum Language effect’. An audience can be packed for Dum Language before suddenly disappearing into the ether. It’s obvious that fans of something will want more of what they liked, but an unfortunate by-product is the bands who immediately follow such a class act as Dum Language, often don’t receive the same appreciation. On balance, there isn’t a right answer as to whether you get big local bands early to attract crowds, or to save them for later, you’ve really just got to pray that the interest is there.
Through no fault of their own, Witch Hook faced an uphill struggle to garner a similarly sized crowd, not that they let that get in their way. Wonderfully defiant, they brought a bewitching dose of the macabre with intermissions of fleeting playfulness in between songs brimming with a morose yet kinetic ferocity.
Megaphone in tow, Dott Baker has an enigmatic stage presence, songs like Asphyxiation put their vocal chops to the test, yet they thrived under the pressure of such a taxing track. The band’s upcoming single Losing Teeth was a pivotal showcase of Jake Ellis’ skill, with his skittish running bass almost carnal-like. Drummer, (appropriately named) Stix, adorned a pair of funky shades befitting of her stylish and tremendous ability, complimenting each and every song without making the drums the centre of attention.
The highlight of the set is indisputably The Pendulum. In a festival stacked with stand-out songs, it slots in nicely alongside the greats as each member fires on all cylinders. It’s as delightful as a song about crippling anxiety can be. Dott Baker exudes confidence with their strident vocals, Stix lays it on thick with a frenetic disregard for the well-being of the drumset, and what more can I say about Jake Ellis’ enthralling bass playing that hasn’t already been said? It’s simply that cohesive and well-realised that there’s genuinely nothing more to add… Uhm- whoever wrote their setlist has commendably neat handwriting? Next time Witch Hook plays in Leicester, they deserve a crowd more befitting of their calibre.
‘All I can hear is you complaining,’ quipped an older audience member as London-based Saint Clair’s soundcheck began to really eat into their set time. He was promptly ignored. Fiddling around with my increasingly malfunction-prone camera never felt so therapeutic as I swallowed an impulsive grimace. Confusion ran amok as each seemingly fine take of their opening song Real Thing was halted to address an apparent issue with the monitor, made only worse when the band claimed they’d ‘probably be another 15 minutes’. That suggestion was quickly shot down as patience really began to wane. ‘Alright… well… f**k it,’ said vocalist Toby Bardsley, as the band began to methodically tune up for their performance.
Perhaps to ease the tension guitarist Lawrence Bordean began to play snippets of the Nintendo Wii’s Mii Maker theme. Thus came the odd cry of execration from a group tucked in near the back of the basement. ‘I’m gonna hit your Wii with a baseball bat,’ bellowed one heckler, so much for easing the tension, I thought, having long ago given up attempting to hide a wince, sharing it with an equally lost looking older couple standing nearby.
I mention this near 8-minute long preamble because it’d be dishonest to say it didn’t linger over the ensuing performance like an almighty flatulence. Saint Clair are certainly a capable bunch but their soft and melancholic set seemed a little too repetitive. Each song was a pensive power ballad that began with frontman Toby serenading alone as if in the midst of an acoustic set, reaching an emotional apex with guitarist Lawrence Bordean’s swelling guitar before petering out before the band could really try something snazzy. The band has a songwriting formula down and it’s a style with wide appeal, but for me, it’s how they hopefully end up subverting it that’ll make all the difference.
Perhaps just a consequence of having by far the shortest set of the festival but I felt there were only brief glimpses of what bassist Adam Anderson and drummer Beth Diana were really capable of. Despite only showing off a limited range, Toby’s vocals are likely to impress any curious Radiohead fans; I particularly liked the repeated refrains of their final song Nevermind. There’s bountiful potential here and with the release of more material I hope Saint Clair will be able to enrapture sceptics in the same way they do their own fans with a more varied, challenging and dynamic sound.
‘Good evening, passengers, welcome aboard You Over Me airlines, destination: a hell of a good time,’ singer Emma Dawson stifled a laugh as a pre-recorded introduction blared. Travelling up from London, all female pop-emo-alt punk band You Over Me were the penultimate act of the set and they certainly had a knack for presentation.
Live music purists have some valid concerns about pre-recorded parts but having gone from a quartet to a trio, I think the band’s use of a backing track for rhythm guitar, bass, general ambience is justified (although listening back, the lion growl sound effect might jump the shark a tad). To me, why shouldn’t we embrace all the tools at our disposal during performance? Why not experiment with novelties and gimmicks, why not have pre-recorded introductions if one is so inclined? So long as it isn’t too perfect, thus depriving bands of a dynamism that only live performance can provide, what’s the harm? Regardless of its effectiveness, it not only set You Over Me apart from the rest of the bands but most importantly, they didn’t use the backing track as an excuse to rest on their laurels.
Drummer Amy Barnett provided a consistently propulsive performance with simplistic, rhythmic crash cymbals specifically designed to harbour most-pits. Their music is carefully refined to be seen live, invoking the memory that emo has its roots in the hardcore scene. Performing their upcoming single Sink or Swim, guitarist Eloize Pridham took to the microphone with roaring, guttural, metal-esc counter-’harmonies’ to Emma Dawson’s melodious refrains. More than anything, You Over Me seem to relish the opportunity to perform, the eagerness is infectious and an audience will often reciprocate that feeling. If amalgamating Taylor Swift with Evanescence sounds right up your alley, you’d be remiss to not give their latest single Y DOES IT GET 2 B U a whirl.
Straight off the heel of a European getaway, Snake Eyes opened their UK headline tour at The Big Difference. Clumping down the stairs for one last hurrah, I could see why there was a slight delay. The stage had been transformed into a snake pit decorated lavishly with wires, pedals and a wide array of crochet flowers. The world needs more silliness and Snake Eyes delivered the goods with a visceral all-encompassing whimsy. Composed of guitarist Jim Heffy and drummer Thomas Coe-Booker are a two-man King Gizzard and The Lizard Wizard, with a sound far exceeding their headcount.
Bringing a fresh zest at the twelfth hour, they’re keenly unpretentious, everything has been stripped down to the simple bare necessities. They ride solely off the charisma of their tightly-knit couplet. Jim slivers serpently to the discordant tones of their latest single Hdtv and Thomas brings a voracious 1000-yard stare as he smashes his drumstick against the roof. There’s a primal beauty in music that comes from the heart rather than the head.
For an audience left battered and bruised after 12 hours of fun, fun, fun, Snake Eyes brought the heat with one of their most recent singles Hug Me well and truly stealing the show. The recorded version brings a propulsive, infectious message of peace and love but that’s nothing compared to witnessing it live. Snake Eyes have a keen knack for showmanship unlike anything else seen at the festival, plowing through the audience with an unrelenting swagger. 40 winks and its perpetually convulsive, stabbing melody has been stuck in my head on repeat for the last week even though it’ll never convince me to kick my crippling addiction to black coffee. Herbal tea? Woke nonsense. Did I mention this is another Brighton-based band?
Snake Eyes are certainly a band to see if they’re performing in your city during their current tour. I promise I’m not just saying that because they promised free kisses at the end of their set.
Bombing up the basement stairs which I’d become intimately familiar with over the course of 12 hours, I felt as if I had a new lease of life, reinvigorated by a day of endless variety, copious amounts of talent and continual goodwill from attendees. Running into a group of friends, so came the offer of drinks at the Corn Exchange. ‘Don’t tempt me with a good time,’ I said, promptly going home and sleeping for 14 hours.
As the first day festival I’ve had the pleasure of attending in Leicester, I’d say it’s not a bad way to spend your day. If the idea sounds appealing mark July 12th in your calendars for when ‘Be There or Be Square Fest’ comes to The Big Difference, click here for more info.
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