Back in The City: Live at Leeds Returns

Daniel Brown on 22 December 2024

Close your eyes and think back to mid-November. What were you doing on a Saturday? Most likely sleeping in? Shielding from the cold? Resting up from a weary week? Not me. I was striding from venue to venue, catching 10 different live music acts across a 12-hour span whilst furiously taking notes on all and proving to myself just how unfit I’ve gotten with every 15-minute sprint between sets. You’re probably wondering why I was undertaking such an adventure; I’m wondering how you read that paragraph with your eyes closed, you freak of nature?!?!? Either you have supremely thin eyelids or failed to follow my directions, either way, your attitude stinks and you can leave it at the door of this article. For I was doing this for Live at Leeds in the City, the wonderful one-day marathon of a music festival which I had the honour of covering with Head of Photography Bella Wright. Albeit exhausting, Live at Leeds in the City was a spectacle, a true celebration of the talent pool that is the rising music scene across the UK, and as such I intend to regurgitate my thoughts of the day onto this article with all the glitz and glamour that made up the festival. For that I need you to imagine (eyes open of course this time) and attempt to feel every strobe light, every guitar strum and every shoulder tackle from a gentleman who has just lobbed his pint into the air, liberated by his favourite indie-rock bands distorted riffs. This was Live at Leeds in the City.

The day began with intimate and vulnerable sets from Oliver Pinder and Talia Rae. Our humble beginnings at the Doghouse and Headrow House tapered our appetites and eased us into the fray of ringing ears and aching achilles. The passionate vocal beauty on display lit the musical fire in our bellies, driving us on in our quest for festival immortality. Our hunger led us to The Key Club for a midday set from a new band on the scene, Soft Launch. Their set had it all; catchy key riffs, band members swapping instruments like a game of hot potato and passionately free dance moves that the compact Key Club stage could hardly handle. Whilst their early set seemed tough to top, the best was yet to come.

Image Credit: Bella Wright

By now the line between hunger for music and sustenance had been blurred. Due to dangerously bloated queues and overwhelming time pressure, our dreams of nourishment in the form of Belgrave pizza were snuffed out (haunted, harrowed and ultimately hangry relieving this trauma). We pushed on in the spirit of hometown pride to see Leeds’ own L’Objectif, who despite recent changes to their lineup gave a seamless post-punk-infused masterclass. Boasting a live crispness most bands travel far and wide to obtain, the hometown four-piece displayed a variety of great tunes rather early into their career that left me hungry for more (no pun not intended… I still yearn for that pizza). Several binge-listens later and I can proudly call myself a L’Objectif fan post Live at Leeds.

No pizza? No problem. As any self-respecting university student will understand, Greggs was there for us in our darkest hour. Fueled by the spirit of the north, we arrived at The Gryphon’s home turf: Stylus Leeds University Union. Rising indie starlets Overpass were next in our sights. Contrary to popular belief, this article being released a month after the festival not out of journalistic laziness, but because I was waiting for my Spotify Wrapped to reveal Overpass’ ‘Beautiful’ as my top song of the year. With this blatant favouritism in mind, I can tell you the Birmingham band gave a performance of pure indie bliss to a clamouring fan base. Frontman Max Newbold’s longing voice was reflected by countless adoring followers, and the buzz in the room was telling of the bright future that the Midlands four-piece are on the road towards.

Image Credit: Bella Wright

We next began the march out west to Brudenell. Young band The Guest List was our objective, and whilst their technical prowess was evident, their lesser experience failed to match some of the brilliance on show at this festival. They have the makings of something special, and I still eagerly await to see what the future holds for them, but they have a little way to go. Still, they are grafting and paying their dues on support slots as all young bands must and it is clear they will return soon much higher on the bill should they continue on their path.

Back to the city centre, rife with exhaustion. The special sets we’d dreamed of seeing were right ahead of us, in anticipation I could see the lights (upon further review this could just have been hallucinations from the lack of oxygen courtesy of our hasty speed walking).  Mercury Prize winners, and Leeds homecomers, English Teacher were set to be a spectacle after toppling the regime of London-exclusive winners that has spanned a decade. The spirit of the Leeds music scene was packed into the Beckett Student Union, feverishly fervid as the crowd brimmed. The punchy bass riffs ebbed and flowed amongst both heavy guitars and tender percussion, and the ever-present crowd played a big part in raising frontman Lily Fontaines’ poetic lyrics upon the shoulders of Yorkshire pride. Potentially the epitome of what support for grassroots music can create, English Teacher’s brilliance really represented what this festival is all about and I’ll be damned if I don’t express my excitement for what they come up with next.

Image Credit: Bella Wright

Another 15-minute jog 8 hours into the day now (thank God we’re passionate about live music otherwise my hamstrings would’ve given way by now). Act 8 of the day was a brief yet divine view of Stone’s frontman crowd surfing their final track and whilst we didn’t catch their full set, my heart was contempt with this holy visual. Our actual reason for returning to Stylus once more was The Royston Club, a personal favourite band of mine and for all intents and purposes THE rising stars in the indie guitar scene. Playing to a rowdy and rambunctious crowd, The Royston Club rattled off unreleased tracks and fan favourites alike (along with a supremely well-received ‘Disco 2000’ cover). The tight guitar riffs and gut-wrenching harmonies had even the most stoic of dark fruits music enjoyers swooning for the Welsh wonders. The Wrexham quartet are the next big thing, that I can say unequivocally, and despite this being my sixth viewing of them, my excitement never wavers. See them before the crowds become masses, the ticket prices become extortionate, and the bandwagon is overburdened with diehard indie fans. 

Exhausted, we reached The Wardrobe where Lime Garden’s immaculate stage presence and wonderfully vibrant tunes breathed new life into our night.  They exuded confidence and pride in their music which was second to none throughout the day. Their gorgeous blend of indie pop, disco and surf melodies almost took a form of their own and jived around the room on my behalf (my legs had now given way, but my soul had never been more at ease). Their infectious performance drew a day of music mastery to a close.

Image Credit: Bella Wright

Many festivals often are forced to choose between quality or quantity for their lineups. Live at Leeds in the City 2024 refused to play this cruel gauntlet the music overlords throw down. At any moment it felt as though we were to be thrown off our planned schedule, we could seek refuge in the nearest venue and find a hidden gem. Whilst this did not occur, due to mine and Bella’s supreme cardiovascular ability, sheer determination and a good chunk of luck, the acts we handpicked to catch in advance did not disappoint in the slightest. Live at Leeds in the City 2024 was a true depiction of how magnificent the upcoming music scene in the UK is today and my calendar will be marked for next year’s marathon.

Words by Dan Brown

Three Was Never a Crowd – In Conversation with Honeyglaze

Charlotte Trenbath on 4 December 2024

The glitz and glamour of the touring artist nowadays seems to consist of multiple jobs, last minute trains, and Travelodge’s that come with a vague, lingering smell of bananas. At least, that’s how it’s been for
Honeyglaze, who spoke to Charlotte Trenbath about their last 24 hours in Leeds with real humour and light-heartedness. Made up of vocalist & guitarist Anouska Sokolow, bassist Tim Curtis and drummer Yuri Shibuichi, Honeyglaze made a fleeting appearance in Leeds to perform in the Dark Arts all- dayer at Belgrave.

You’ve just played a gig in Leeds, how did you find that?
Y – It was lively, yeah, there was a bunch of people. Every time we come to Leeds it’s quite vibrant.
T – People here seem to already be a friend, which is nice. Even if they’re quiet, they’re just chilling with you. We just came here on the train. Sometimes you just get given a tour, today I woke up and saw ‘Leeds Dark Arts’ on my calendar and then suddenly I’m on the train. It’s quite nice, in a way, but also a bit
dissociative.
A – We’ve been staying in a Travelodge and the room smells like bananas, for some reason.
Y – When we’re travelling, which is most of the time, things don’t make as much sense. But when we do come to play the show, we remember why we’re doing it, and it makes sense. And we’re just really good
friends, and we love each other.


How did you all meet?
A – I knew Tim and Yuri separately through different musical escapades and friends and then was asked to play a show solo. I asked them to join me, we played one show, and it was good, and it never ended.
T – It did end, we started before lockdown. So, it started and then it ended. And then it started again, but for real that time.


So, you’ve just released a new album, Real Deal, and from what I’ve seen the reception has been good. Are you happy with how it’s been received?

A – I feel like it’s hard to tell because it’s all online at the minute. I think when we go on this headline tour, we’ll be able to feel the vibe and the excitement a little bit more.
T – But also, even if you start responding to the messages you don’t have the number of messages written out. And it’s difficult to tell how much of it is positive. But there have been a couple of things that I didn’t expect, like sellouts and the Joe Jonas thing.

The Joe Jonas thing?
A – Yeah, so, he DM’ed us and I was on my phone at the time and saw the message come through saying ‘Joe Jonas messaged you’ and I thought it was a spam account, but it was real. He said he loved the new
record and that Ghost was his ‘jam’.
T – I didn’t find out for a couple of days. I went to meet some friends, and they were like, ‘So, that Joe Jonas thing’. And I was like, ‘What are you talking about?’
A – I literally had a period in my life where no one would ask me how I was, people would only ask about Joe Jonas. They’d say, ‘Oh my God, how’s Joe Jonas?’ and I’d be like, ‘I’m fine, thank you for asking, and Joe is also fine.’


How did you want your new album to be different or progress from your first release?
A – We wanted to go bigger. As much as we love the first one, we’re quite ambitious and we wanted to push ourselves and see how much we could do.
Y – I think a lot of the second album is influenced from the experience we had touring the first album. There’s a certain level of aggression, or loudness, or presence that you can have on stage. I think we understood what was possible. The first album’s songs were on the mellower side compared to these songs, so I think in terms of the arrangements we were going for a more dynamic and larger range. So that when we go hard its mega hard and when we go soft its way softer than in the first record.
T – Yeah. A dynamic range is something that you get on a stage so much more. When we were preparing for our first album there was a period where we didn’t have a practice space, so we were in Nous’s house, and it was cool because it just an acoustic kind of thing. But it also meant that everyone had to be as quiet as possible. So that was nice, because we got to explore that range, and then you get on stage and you wonder, ‘Is this boring, is this too quiet?’ And then you can explore the other end. I think a lot of it is just realising your freedom. You can be as quiet or loud as possible, you can be as aggressive or gentle and people don’t think that’s weird.


There’s quite a big math rock influence in the album, are you all fans of the genre?
T – Yeah, we are. We like Tortoise and American Football and Pinback. It’s just so enjoyable to play and to fit in between each other. I think if you have more than three people it become harder to find the spaces,
and it’s really nice to find that space.
A – I think writing the first album was more singer-songwriter, acoustic, strumming vibes. But then as soon as we started writing for the second one, we realised we can do other stuff. And I was writing more for the band, to experiment and see what we can do together.

What are you all listening to right now?
Y – The Smile’s new record is a big one for me, and the red Tortoise record, Standards, I was listening to that on our way to Amsterdam last week.
A – I’ve come back round to SASAMI, I saw her the other day and her first album was such a huge inspiration when I started writing. I like her new album too, she’s going pop-world, which is interesting to hear a very indie singer-songwriter do pop.

What about you, Tim, are you looking at your Spotify?
T – Yeah, I haven’t listened to too much new music recently but a few days ago someone told me about Magdalena Bay. Their music is so catchy, it’s been in my head all the time. Also, a lot of David Bowie has
been in my head. When I wake up in the morning, and there’s a song in my head, I put it in this playlist, and the same with my girlfriend. We collect them. And it’s just mad differences sometimes. I’ll wake up and there’s a hard techno song in my head and she’ll say, ‘I thought of Adrienne Lenker today’.

Are you all playlist people, do you make a lot of playlists?
A – I think I’m a playlist person and then I add like 2 songs. I have millions of playlists that only have one or two songs.
Y – Yeah, I think I prefer albums. But I discovered how you can use the ‘like’ function on Spotify about half a year ago and I love just hitting shuffle on liked songs and listening to that. That’s my one playlist.
T – I think I have, like, 200 playlists. So yeah, I’m a playlist person.
A – Actually I listen to your [Tim’s] playlists quite a lot. You’re quite good at making playlists.
T – Yeah, I didn’t even realise I had followers on Spotify.
A – And they’re very niche. You have a really good ‘sleep’ one that I listen to. And there’s one called ‘bleep bloop’ which is electronic stuff.

Listening to the trio converse was much like listening to their music – individual sections, interesting and engaging in their own way, that fit together perfectly. There was nothing forced about them; it was clear
that their music, and their friendship, came from the heart. Honeyglaze, it was a pleasure chatting with you. If you’re reading this, please send me Tim’s Spotify. I need a ‘bleep bloop’ playlist ASAP.

A Dar(e)ing Foray into Bodily Fluids and Faulty Sound Design: Yes, I Went To See The Dare

Kyle Galloway on 28 November 2024

So it’s like 2pm on Wednesday and I’m one flask of instant coffee and two RAND cold brews deep in Laidlaw (mind: alive) toying with the idea of committing to read Baudrillard’s Simulacra and Simulation for my dissertation when my phone chimes. My intestines clench – I wipe away an fading skidmark of hoisin sauce from my joul – I’m in the library – why is my Do Not Disturb off? I’ll tell you why: divine intervention. It’s an email from Warren Higgins at Chuff Media. “URGENT – RE: THE DARE TOMORROW NIGHT”. 

A tear forms in the corner of my eye, rolls down the side of my face. The sound of it hitting the floor reverberates off the cold, angular interior design of the library. The swathes of international students and Herefordshire finance bros in quarter-zips fall silent. They all know what has befallen Leeds… I will be present at The Dare’s gig at Belgrave.

Fast forward 29 hours. 19:00. My room laden with discarded jumpers. I stink of Versace Eros. I have toothbrushed away the red wine tidal mark from my bottom lip 3 times, but I’m starting to think it adds to my vampire-hit-by-a-car aesthetic. I have “All I Need” by Air on my speaker because I feel romanced by the air of the moment. I’ve used my honed research skills (a network of gay men on Instagram stretching from Scarborough to Southport) to recruit another twink to accompany me. I stub out my incense (“Tropical Lemongrass”) and saunter to the bus stop. 

20:30. Everything is red. Adult DVD is warming the crowd up. I turn to my compadre (“sebastiAn? Justice-y? Maybe.”). It’s pushing nine. He’s itching for the man himself to guess the colour of someone’s underwear. All the bodies in the room hold an abstract charge, part anticipation for an act whose USP is manifest eroticanostalgia, part awe of the negative space already held by a not-yet-present act whose USP is also a very rentable suit-and-sunglasses combo. We’ve been waiting: the crowd flicker like candles on the verge of burning themselves out, iPhone flashlights extend out between bodies in frenetic little blooming rings every time a sound technician comes to tamper with the synth. 

21:07. He emerges and the aerated agitation of the crowd bubbles over into a boiling, frothing fever for what is to come. “Open Up” does exactly what it describes as the first track, leading into a breakneck back-to-back performance of “Good Time”, “Sex”, “Perfume”, and “I Destroyed Disco”, the last two interrupted almost comically by brief technical issues that somehow aesthetically align themselves with the sleaze and artificiality of the product The Dare has marketed to us. But the atmosphere is anything but soiled. The pot continues boiling over. There is a sense, in this room, of a unique catharsis. It feels like an embodiment of a deceased pop dancefloor, immortalised as something of the past, something crumbled into territories of other genres for about 10 years, resurrected by a man iconicised by his non-descriptness, his grand interpolation of a milieu of electroclash artists dragged unceremoniously into a prior unrendered present-future.

21:45. The People have been waiting for this. The setlist descends (ironically) into “Elevation” and “You Can Never Go Home”, after an electric interpolation of “Guess” into “Bloodwork” from the rocket-fuel debut Sex EP (2023), giving us a minute to breathe. We are ready for an encore worthy of such a gig, hair matted with sweat and eyes bloodshot, a bass-amplified forcefield pressing in on the room from its edges. He acknowledges what we’re waiting for after telling us we’re his first European show to mosh for him, we roll our eyes: continental Europe doesn’t understand what year-round drizzle and 14 years of Tory office make catharsis mean. 

Then the metallic opening synths of “Movement” lead us into a three-track fury, moving into “All Night” and then “Girls” as the crowd begins lifting dancers into the air, throwing bras onto the stage, screaming “I LOVE YOU!” à la One Direction fanfic. The bass hits, hypnotic, we all know the words, acrylics begin ripping panelling off the stages, scratching grooves into the floor, throwing vodka tonic into the sky. Boys are kissing! Tits are out! I can smell Kesha! Or a Jack Antonoff who never met women who write lyrics in diaries! The roof opens up to the pitch of the night. Maybe we’ll all be swallowed. Maybe swallowing is part of the commitment to the performance. After all, what’s a spitter to a swallower, and what’s a swallower to The Dare?

Words by Kyle Galloway

Dorian Electra brings high voltage hyperpop to Belgrave Music Hall

Alex Gibbon on 4 April 2022

Dorian Electra has brought the Queers out to play. The crowd is a multi-coloured sea of dyed hair, trans pride flags, and rainbow suspenders. Any sold-out show at Belgrave Music Hall is bound to conjure an atmosphere of excitement, but this rainbow brigade seems especially ready to get down and dirty.

Such a unique audience could only be drawn by an artist as innovative as Electra. The genderfluid popstar’s outlandish on-stage persona and intelligent caricature of masculinity has made them the doy-them of hyperpop performers. In a genre that thrives on collaboration, Electra has racked up an impressive roster of credits alongside 100 Gecs, Charli XCX, and even Lady Gaga. Their most recent album, 2020’s ‘My Agenda’, is a riotous collection of distorted and glitching pop bangers and masterfully blends Queer politics, meme culture, and experimental production. Electra’s range of influences is so broad and esoteric, it’s anyone guess what they will bring to the stage tonight.  

As the creepy and abrasive trills of show opener ‘F the World’ ring out, a silhouetted figure appears on stage. Through strobing neon lights, Electra can be seen in an ensemble best described as a sort of kinky Slenderthem: a long black PVC trenchcoat; devilishly pointed shoulder pads; taloned black gloves. Through both ‘M’lady’ and ‘Gentleman’, two technpop tracks that cleverly satirise the trope of the chivalrous man, the singer thrashes to the beat with flare. The constant oscillation of Electra’s shows between ridiculous camp and unnerving horror brings nothings but joy.

Launching into the middle third the set, Electra drives the show into pure pop overdrive. A speedy costume change sees them return as a scantily clad police chief flanked by two similarly bare-skinned dancers. The focus is now on Electra’s brighter first album ‘Flamboyant’ as the trio convulse in synchronisation to sticky melodic hooks and clattering synths. In fact, the outro of the album’s title track is where Electra’s vocals shine the brightest, drawing attention to how seldom their voice is gifted a spotlight amid the extravagance. Although, this does nothing to diminish their command of the stage. “Spell it out for Daddy”, Electra orders as the financially benevolent love interest during the tongue-in-cheek ‘Daddy Like’. The singing audience do as they are told.  

The tail end of the show sees Electra, now dressed as an anime-inspired army general, deliver their most aggressive material. With maximalist tracks such as ‘Ram It Down’, ‘Iron Fist’ and ‘My Agenda’, they juggle heavy metal, hardcore, dubstep and bubblegum bass to create the sound of sickly-sweet dystopian future. It’s enchanting and unnerving in equal measure.

For all the theatricality of a Dorian Electra show, the performer is smart to not rely solely on shock value. To see the deconstruction of masculinity from an artist between the binary enacted with such irreverent playfulness is nothing short of exhilarating. Make no mistake, this protest pop could be just the thing to kickstart a genderqueer revolution.