We’ve written before a lot about the excellent Mood Swings nights at Yes Manchester. Hot Take is a variation on that – same deal – 3 bands for less than 1 pint of overpriced lager in The Albert Hall or the arenas – except that Hot Take is all about local Manchester based artists. Same ethos, anything goes and expect the unexpected. Pay yer money and take a chance.

There’s a really good crowd in from early doors to see the opener – Magnum Opus II. With a name like that I’m expecting something a bit Prog Rock. Not quite but there is a sax player, and some elongated chords guitar being played. It takes me a while to get past the vocalist’s haircut which is an ungainly variation of that sported by Nick Beggs of Kajagoogoo in 1983 (complete with twin pony tail action). However as the music swells and reels us in it’s clear there is more to them than the haircuts. The five piece are firmly in the Art Rock camp – think Eno’s Roxy Music or latter day bands like Black Country New Road. Intense and brooding with some nice noisy bits – but unpretentious – no chin stroking here – indeed the Sax player decides to do a lap of the room while still playing. Rather good – we shall meet again I hope.

Next up is the brilliantly named The Speed of Honey and Her Oscillations. Formerly a power trio, since forming a mere 12 months ago they have expanded to a six piece although new members seem to keep appearing adding more tambourine and through the haze it’s hard to make out how many are on tiny stage at times. They set their stall out early, shades on, massed guitars and a riff that sounds remarkably like Spacemen 3’s Revolution but isn’t. They wear their influences very clearly (S3, BJM, JAMC, Stooges) but they wear them very well and – when the drummer strikes up a classic Bo Diddley groove they’ve clearly followed some of the rabbit holes those bands set you on to find the source back to the 1960s and 1950s – hopefully they will keep mining. I like the fact that they tap into that slower, dronier, darker side at times and aren’t afraid to lean back into that and stare the audience out. They sound like they’re en-route to somewhere, and maybe need to push it a bit further to get a sound worthy of that excellent band name but yeah – I like their early stuff.

Last up – Hungry – the singer is already stalking the stage intoning a spoken word part before the band explode. Yes it’s the dreaded Sprechgesang/Post Punk Idles/YardAct/Fontaines/Sleaford talky thing again. I’ve seen a billion bands doing this again and again AND AGAIN AND AGAIN YAAAAH!. Hungry should bore me witless but they don’t – they’re strangely magnetic and they absolutely take the roof off and I enjoy watching them doing it. “If you don’t know what you’re looking at – We ARE HUNGRY!” is a great bit of rhetoric and they immediately get the floor on side and mid way through their singer has the audience sitting down, getting ready to jump up for a mosh and commands the room throughout. It’s full of bluster and energy and movement and while musically they’re not setting my head on fire, Hungry look hungry and they look ready to tear it up around gigs and festivals.

Quite a night then – and just in case you missed the start- all that for five quid?!

It’s like Britpop never happened. We are up in the excellent new venue Kamera Ballroom above the Lloyds pub in Chorlton and we appear to have stumbled across an Indie Pop gig to party like it’s 1987. There is a stall selling fanzines, stickers, badges and there are two bands on the bill which have their roots in a particular style and aesthetic that definitely recalls the era before “Indie” became codified as as genre – and at worst middle of the road, meat & potatoes guitar music. Kick In THE SUN….

This interpretation is summed up by the newly launched streaming service from BBC6Music : “Indie Forever” – where “Indie” means “Nothing but solid gold upbeat indie bangers” – cue Toploader, Razorlight, The Fratellis, Shed Seven and any number of Oasis-adjacent lads and dads purveyors of “anthemic” beery artless slop – Union flag guitars and daft hats. I don’t care how many tracks by the (insert name of ludicrously overhyped viral ‘math rock’ band here) they play – this is a reductive and backwards step.

Pre 1994 “Indie” meant anything from A.R Kane to PWEI to MBV to The Fall to Scritti Politti to Durutti Column to Cabaret Voltaire to We’ve Got a Fuzzbox and We’re Gonna Use It to The Mighty Lemon Drops to A Guy Called Gerald to KLF to World Domination Enterprises to Loop to Spacemen 3 to Cardiacs to 808 State to Soup Dragons to Mercury Rev to King of the Slums to Microdisney. Even if some of them weren’t on “Indie” labels financially speaking. It wasn’t a genre, it was a catch-all term for a certain way of approaching things. It was what the mid 70s hippy lot tried to call “Rock in Opposition” aka ROI. Imperfect but it certainly wasn’t The Lathams or The Reytons or one of those bands that sounds like a dynasty of local butchers.

Both turns on the bill tonight, on record at least, remind me of the “indie” music John Peel or Janice Long or in Manchester the ‘Meltdown’ show on BBC Manchester were playing in the late 80s hinterland as Acid House and Hip Hop were taking hold at the same time (and also being played by those DJs). Both bands tonight would quite likely have been snapped up for Creation Records having that mix of smart songwriting, firmly 60s guitar sounds and a certain swagger but also a certain oddness and otherness that they share with all of the above. I get the impression both bands have been absorbing some of that untapped oddness from the era of fanzines, bowlie haircuts and pre-Madchester experimentation before everyone got Loaded.

First up on what appears to be a double headliner are Bramwell. Formed in Torquay and now Cardiff based. They immediately impress with their way with a tune. Make no mistake – This Is Pop. They’re confident, but this ain’t no Britpop revivalism – they have a quirky feel about them and enough of an oddly psychedelic edge that keeps them on Planet Interesting. Indie Pop is the touchstone – echoes of Felt or Teenage Fanclub but there is a dash of the late 70s about them too – they could be on Stiff Records – I hear a bit of Squeeze, a bit of XTC at their most bouncy. They have 3 singles out all of which should make for a fantastic debut LP if they can only decide on what their sleeve artwork should be. Highlight for me is ‘British Rails (Are Long and Fast)’ and it is long overdue that someone wrote a song about Captain Sensible – Bramwell have..yesss!

Up next are Autocamper, who I’ve attempted to see more than once and most recently failed as they had an unexpected line-up change as singer and keyboard player Niamh departed for pastures new – cue some regrouping. Their debut ‘What Do You Do All Day‘ is an understated and charming collection of very smart and catchy songs and infectious urgent riffs with a bit of nuance and texture to ’em. Tonight – gone is the swirling organ and vocal interplay between Niamh and other singer/guitarist Jack – instead things take on a more feedback laden raggedy feel- leaning into Velvet Underground or Jesus & MaryChain in their earlier more confrontational era. Mighty fine it is too but I feel like I’ve missed the “Pop” era. It worries me that they may have decided they need to more like the fist-flailing bore-rock of Brian Jonestown Massacre and ditched some of the magic of the debut LP.

They are leaning into riffing and feedback solos and are in danger of becoming just another ‘Psych’ band (that other heavily codified, and increasingly meaningless title). They do at least not start a fight and exude an energy of looseness and just having fun and there is still something intriguing about the band – a strikingly Jarvis Cocker-alike drummer called Arthur, a bloke on guitar (who annoys me a bit with some over-amplified shrieking – I have to say), a bass player who looks alarmingly like Robert Webb and stage right behind shades is – I presume Jack Harkins who has a bit of the Lawrence from Felt about him (never a bad thing). After 30 mins they decide it’s time for an all-star jam and Bramwell plus a few pals cluster on stage and plug in for a 10 minute freeform take on Them’s garage rock staple ‘Gloria’ – a long time since I’ve seen that happen at a gig and it is rather delightful – reminds of Blue Aeroplanes encores with the massed guitars they used to end each show. I have a nagging feeling this is more to entertain each other and their mates in the crowd rather than the rest of us though – and off they go.

A very entertaining evening nonetheless. I look forward to Bramwell’s debut LP and, having missed their initial pop phase – with some trepidation -Autocamper’s “difficult 2nd album” and hoping they sharpen their next direction and build on that early promise – (or was this their last show?) Who knows. If You Know – You Know. I don’t.

Still give me this variant of “Indie” over the fucking Courteeners any day.

In live music terms, July in the UK is the silly season. Music goes outdoors, festival bills and outdoor enormogigs hoover up a lot of the touring bands and fans cash and there tends to be less going on in basements and back rooms for those who prefer their music up close and personal. Bucking the trend tonight are 471 who have been putting on experimental and innovative events on Merseyside for some time now and have something very interesting for us tonight; daGoogie and Cara Tivey. The former is best known as Debbie Googe the formidable bassist thundering away behind My Bloody Valentine (as well as Primal Scream, Thurston Moore and more) and the latter for her work with Billy Bragg, Au Pairs, Everything but the Girl and as live keyboard player with Blur. ‘The Golden Thread’ is their LP collaboration – a curious and wonderfully hard to categorise mix of of guitar fx drones, classical piano, slightly warped folk and psychedelic themes (think Syd Barrett rather than yer Oh Sees “modern psych”).

Tonight takes place in a subterranean venue that I thought was new to me but upon entering looks very familiar…

Liverpool’s legendary Magnet bar and venue closed down some years ago, but happily the basement venue underneath has been reopened as Quarry, a community grass roots venue. Very fine it is too with a nice, welcoming bar area leading to the gig space – much as it was but with an upgraded sound system and as with the old space, different levels to stand on so everyone can see. Crucially with the temperature in the 30s it also has air con. Perfect

Debbie has swapped bass for a regular guitar but what she plays is far from regular – using an e-bow or scraping the strings – and occasionally conjuring deep, tremulous drones – the night starts affably enough with Deb introducing the show and apologising for not knowing any good jokes – before striking up an ominous throbbing drone and straight into the weirdly twisted ‘Bad Habit’ – opening track from the album. They mean business now. As the set progresses Cara adds vocals and gentle but pointed piano flourishes. It’s intense and hypnotic stuff and the venue has filled up behind me as people make good use of the space and stand on the platforms and balconies and there’s a sense of everyone being engaged – no chatterboxes – which is good as this requires close attention – switching between delicacy, harmony and dissonance, and swelling ominous clouds. I don’t think anyone was expecting a dreamy evening of shoegazey escapism – instead we get two brilliant musicians with an extraordinary history taking us on a bit of journey into stranger possibilities – under the pavement while the rest of Liverpool is getting sozzled in the balmy night.

The set ends with ‘November New’ – with a striking synth line and echoey guitars, piano lead and a non-more gothic chord part – utterly majestic and ringing in my ears as I traverse Liverpool, pausing to salute Brian Epstein’s statue, through Matthew Street thundering to a different beat (several covers bands and someone – quite brilliantly and timely – belting out the recently passed Bonnie Tyler ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’) – in a music city driven by tourism and stag/hen nights hats off to 471 for making sure all that can coexist with stranger things.

Hard to believe it is 18 years since Lone (aka Matt Cutler) and his 2nd album ‘Lemurian’ appeared on our reconnaissance radar. That record saw Nottingham’s finest beatmaker serve up a remarkable cut & shut of hazy Boards Of Canada sunbaked chords with Madlib/Flying Lotus influenced breakbeat science. Not dissuaded by the comically awful cover art, from the moment a sample of Beach Boys Carl Wilson fades on ‘Interview at Honolulu’ it was clear a seriously playful mind was at work and we’ve been hooked ever since.

Lone has taken to making ever more expansive and ambitious records, with his most recent two ‘Always Inside Your Head’ and ‘Hyperphantasia’ moving into – his words “self-indulgent bat-shit pop music from an alternative dimension” bringing in guest vocalists and rappers but never losing the essential core trademarks of Lone – big, chunky melodic chords and expansive soundscapes, perfect for a long hot summer.

Interestingly he’s taking this new record on the road – not a run of guest spots at club nights or dance festivals in the wee small hours, but a headline tour of small indie venues during regular gig hours – doors opening 7-ish and all done by last orders. I wish more Electronic/Dance artists would do this and judging by the ‘sold out’ notices on several dates Lone has proved you don’t have to be Orbital, Bicep or Underworld to get an audience for a live electronica set.

PhoningItIn missed the Manchester date but by a stroke of luck it appears Lone has followed us to Edinburgh and it’d be rude not to go see him at Sneaky Pete’s. Under an arch just off the Tourist Trap/Bagpipes/Shortbread end of town the venue is uber-tiny – a narrow bar bit leads to a small dancefloor area and stage and has the somewhat ‘lived-in’ air of a place that has seen a million Edinburgh Fringe acts, hopeful Indie bands and sweaty club nights. The place is already jumping to the support DJ when I arrive even though it’s Sunday night. I get the impression it’s a mix of Edinburgh party people who may well have out since Thursday, diehard Lone fans like me who own his back catalogue, and given it’s location quite possibly some tourists who have checked the guy’s track record and taken a punt.

Suffice to say by the time Lone takes to the stage – via a remarkably efficient swap of equipment as one set of kit is slid off and his is slid into place without literally missing a beat, standing still is not an option. Given the balmy weather, any suggestion this might be a laid back ambient show are cast off the moment the wobbly keyboard intro gives way to the first (suprisingly ravey) rhythm kick of the night – the crowd are up for dancing and so they shall.

There’s no A/v show tonight, just the stage lights and a mirror ball, but Lone gets busy – flitting between his controllers, beat box and mixer – and proceeds to jam out a perfectly pitched set pulling in recognisable cuts from his earlier work like ‘Airglow Fires’ with newer tracks like ‘Affinity’ and ‘Life Spark’. He leans into the faster harder BPMs and the crowd whoop it up, albeit when he does that, he always has that bedrock of his signature soaring chords and that deep sense of lushness and intricate melody running through it. Even when the beats and breaks nod toward ‘ardcore – the musical backdrop is still colourful and expansive – small vocal snippets adding an extra dimension to the newer tracks.

Curfew is 10pm but he gets, and does an encore, momentarily struggling as the machines doesn’t want to seem to change from the 50bpm tempo he slowed them down when he shut down the laptop – it’s a reminder that you don’t just press a button and ‘Lone’ music comes out. It all kicks back in for one last rave-up before we’re booted out into the still light night as Sneaky Pete’s gets ready for the next wave for another after hours shindig.

I first became aware of Magazine during what Tony Wilson and Factory Records billed ‘The 10th Summer’ – a series of events marking the 10th anniversary of the infamous Sex Pistols gig June 4th 1976 at the Manchester Lesser Free Trade Hall . I swear, I wasn’t there – but it was in the music papers and significantly Channel 4 ran an amazing compilation of tv clips drawn from ‘So it Goes’, Granada Reports and other shows mostly helmed by Tony Wilson. These featured amazing archive footage of the Pistols, Buzzcocks, Siouxsie, a mesmerising Joy Division performance, Iggy Pop, The Fall – and Magazine (you can spot a very young Mick Hucknall down the front- pre fame and presumably just beginning to work his way through his “3,000 women”)

I remember being particularly struck by how downright weird they were, especially the keyboard player who was doing some very un-punky things which I couldn’t work if they were a throwback to Prog Rock or were throwing forward to Gary Numan, Visage and all things synth pop. Maybe both. I later saw this clip on one of those Punk/Post Punk clip shows (from the Whistle Test this time) – even more alien, oddly out of place and yet particularly with the late great John McGeoch, Moss Side hero Barry Adamson accompanying Formula (a sort of Whalley Range Brian Eno) they were a a formidable musical beast no doubt about it. I’d missed out and as time went by I did more research and listened to those extraordinary records. I had no idea a lot of the band were also responsible for Visage and pretty much invented the 1980s. Maybe they would get back together one day…

Fast forward to 2009 and I finally get to see Magazine on a brief comeback trail with the great Barry Adamson on Bass, Devoto behind a lectern holding forth, Formula on the keys and standing in for the late McGeoch, the singularly named Noko (aka Norman Fisher-Jones) who did a remarkable job – so much so that he became an official member and played on their final LP ‘No Thyself’.

Fast forward to 2026, and despite their reputation growing, and their music aging exceptionally well, seems there is no chance of more Magazine. Except it seems Formula really wanted to dust off his synths and play a few old tunes, as did Noko. Howard Devoto wasn’t coming out to play – he hasn’t so much given the gig his blessing as said online he’s “Officially Neutral” and Barry Adamson is busy making his own creations, so we have perhaps 1.5 Magazine members, but we have, it turns out 100% of the drama and power tonight

We already know Noko can nail the sound and atmosphere of McGeoch, and as the band strike up with moody instrumental ‘The Thin Air’ we’re eyeing up the unfamiliar rhythm section stepping into the formidable shoes – and who will sing? A man in a dapper hat and suit takes to the stage, turns out this is Peter Petersen, a frenchman with a bit of a background in early 80s post-punk – and it turns out a perfect front for this band tonight. It’s a family affair and on drums is Dave’s son Max, and on bass is Peter’s son Tim. As they launch into ‘Back to Nature’ (a fave of mine) all worries are cast aside as the drums and pass surge with just the right amount of drive and woomph. Noko tears a hole in the fabric of space with his scything guitar and Dave Formula coaxes his instantly recognisable signature sounds from the bank of keyboards around him. As on the records, he deftly switches between Mike Garson-esque piano flourishes, proto-synth pop squeels, reeling organ and vamping chords. It’s apparent he’s here to have fun and with each crescendo and epic soundtrack this band – let’s call it a version of Magazine (hey, Soft Machine can do it with zero orginal members after all) slowly reels all those gathered here toward the stage.

It is a perfectly paced set with the hits (lest we forget they did make it to Top of the Pops) and the hight points from the classic albums and imperial phase of Magazine – and they don’t shy away from a waltz (The Great Beautician in the Sky) and songs which weren’t played on the 2009 reunion show – including the aforementioned ‘Back to Nature’ which has it’s first live outings since 1979.

Singer Peter adds a distinctively European, chanson vibe, switching in and out his native tongue or reading prose from a paperback book (cue a room full of Manc post-punkers with O-level French at best – nodding approvingly to whatever it is he’s saying). His style fits the songs perfectly – not an impersonation of Howard Devoto but a sort of noir-ish reimagining.

They close with a thundering ‘The Light Pours Out Of Me’ and, of course, ‘Shot by Both Sides’ with all the musicians absolutely living and breathing every note and every lyric.

Close your eyes and Magazine have entered the building.

Now that Shoegaze is regarded as a genre rather than a perjorative term and Slowdive have gone from pariahs of the 90s music press to headlining enormodomes you might be forgiven for wondering whatever happened to their old pals Chapterhouse – not least because the two were always lumped together back in the early 90s. In that era, the music press (when it had the role as both gatekeeper and jailer) briefly championed the shoegazers for 6 months in 1991 before deciding they were not ‘4 Real’ – polarising instead around Grunge and the mouthy Manic Street Preachers and castigating the ‘gazers for trying to be all experimental and not singing loud enough about REAL KIDS ISSUES. They were seen as upper class toffs to the extent that David Quantick famously invented a sort of Jeeves & Wooster/Just William world based on fictionalised members of Moose, Slowdive, Lush and Chapterhouse – characters such as Prince Namor, Nebuchadnezzar and most famously ‘Lord Tarquin from Chapterhouse’.

It was all a good larf really but the truth is that the bands were suburban kids from dreary satellite towns – with big musical ideas and dreams and a penchant for creating huge oceanic washes of guitar over breathy vocals, “sonic cathedrals of sound” indeed. By 1994 Chapterhouse had split up after just two LPs. History would prove them right and barely a week goes by when I don’t see or hear a new band who owes a debt to Chapterhouse and the rest of the Thames Valley Delta.

There have been sporadic reunions since their split in 1994 but the group have been dormant for 16 years – although Cherry Red saw fit to issue a lavish and extensive box set of most of their recorded and unrealised ouput (highly recommended) back in 2023 – lovingly compiled by the band which hinted that they may return. It took a while, but here they are all present. There is no new album to promote, just a celebration of their debut album and a chance for fans old and new to catch up. There’s a run of very quickly sold-out dates and a US tour to follow so suffice to say their appeal is less selective.

A long since sold out Trades Club has the pleasure of the excellent Mark Peters as support. Mark was formerly with Engineers – who came along a few years later but shared a similarly expansive musical vision as the headliners. Engineers combined Dream Pop with a melancholy and wistfulness adjacent to Tim Buckley or Pink Floyd at their most comfortably numb. Mark has since done a run of stirring solo records, mostly instrumental. He often performs solo but tonight he’s joined by a bassist and rhythm backing and easily wins over the audience with soaring melodies and his trademark evocative instrumentals. There are mics on stage which suggests this won’t be a purely instrumental performance – and sure enough he closes with the beautiful, gliding ‘Forgiveness’ from the excellent debut album by his old band.

Chapterhouse file on to a very enthusisatic crowd, having tuned their collection of 12 string guitars and got the FX pedals ready to stun. They open with ‘Ecstacy’ – uncharacterstically scuzzed up psych rock which reminds us that the group initially were more aligned to the motorbikin’ Spacemen 3 (who they played with in the early days) and the JAMC than the Cocteau Twins. This is only the 2nd date of the tour but they whip up quite the storm while coming across like you’d never guess how little they’ve performed together over the past 30 odd years. As always at the Trades, the sound and atmosphere is unbeatable so no better place to experience this moment.

Tonight is one of those ‘playing the album in full’ affairs and they have chosen their debut ‘Whirlpool’ so we’re whipped straight into Side One track 1- ‘Breather’ which shows they could really show Ride or the St**e R**es a thing or two about anthemic choruses and psychedelic jangling . “Classic album” gigs are always a bit of a gamble. I know bands do it to reassure punters that there will be lots of old songs, but what may be a perfect running order for a record to play at home doesn’t always make for a great live set. It’s slightly disorientating to go from the Indie disco staple ‘Pearl’ into the thunderous and brooding ‘Autosleeper’ but they pull it off in fine style and it is striking how huge a sound the five of them conjur up in this relatively small room- and nobody is gazing at their shoes. ‘Falling Down’ is perhaps a track that has dated less well, wah-wah guitar and Madchester funky drum loop. The lovely Spacemen 3/Velvets esque ‘If You Want Me’ however is a delight -and is played with some delicacy, light and shade that we’ll see more of later. It’s a majestic start.

There’s a quick break having cleared the decks of ‘Whirlpool’ the band return to play their own favourites. We get a couple of tracks from their 2nd LP, the somewhat ill-fated but hugely under-rated ‘Blood Music’ where the band persured a more dance/electronic direction (and made a wonderful reimagined version with Global Communication which took on a life of it’s own as an ambient dub classic). The set showcases a different side of the band and things get more delicate and swoonsome. A highlight is ‘Then We’ll Rise’ which they originally tucked away as a B side on the Mesmirise EP.

They end with a gorgeous ‘Love Forever’ before returning for a well deserved encore of ‘Mesmirise’ (which due to some tedious railway related shenanigans we have to skip). I hope this isn’t a one off as I’d like to see them again, picking their own choice of songs throughout. There is so much more to the band than their debut LP, lots of brilliant tracks tucked away on singles and unreleased material. On this form, like Slowdive, it would be intriguing to hear a new record. Meanwhile, they’re now off on a tour for the rest of the year and if you can bag tickets don’t miss the chance to do some catching up. Now then who’s next – Moose?, Catherine Wheel? Get those guitars down from the loft….

Soft Machine are a strange proposition. They were at the epicentre of the Canterbury scene, which looks ever more unfathomable and strange the further we hurtle away from the late 1960s. At the start in 1966 the Softs were defined by very charismatic and singular talents – Robert Wyatt, Daevid Allen and Kevin Ayers who are better known for what they did next – led by their keyboard mangling pal Mike Ratledge who held out til 1976 – but in a delightful way they all set the course for what follows long after they exited the stage. If you find a way in – you may well get hooked on the evolving Soft Machine. In my case, the way in were some clues left for me – samples on ambient dub records in the 90s by the likes of Ultramarine or name checked by curious bands like Gorkys Zygotic Mynci.

Add to that, mentions of them being part of the counter culture scene in the late 60s with Syd’s (The) Pink Floyd. Delving into their confusing back catalogue which veers from quirky psychedelic oddness, to Kevin Ayers-era cheekiness, to Eno tape loops, proggy jazz rock noodling – even proto-Balearic disco (try Soft Space).

They inspire curiosity and if you can handle some stylistic shifts, some tricky time signature changes and a lot of fuzzy organ noodling there are moments where they are suddenly roaring and thundering like Can or Faust or locking into a proto-Stereolab groove.  

Line-up wise they are the ultimate ‘triggers broom’ band (apart from maybe the Canterbury adjacent Gong), or as I prefer to look at it, the longest running baton relay in weird jazzy Art Rock history. Approximately 35 members have come and gone and it’s long been established that Soft Machine is an ever changing collective of musicians and has been so for 60 years now. Current holder of said baton/broom head is guitarist John Etheridge – who has been with the Softs on and off since 1975 – and he describes them tonight as ‘an organism’ and he’s right. The Soft Machine is a living thing. 

Whatever it is, there is still very much an audience for this thing called Soft Machine and it’s standing room only in BOTW, a venue the band has returned to many times. There’s obviously a certain demographic in the room but there are younger folk here too. There is a steady stream of visitors to the merch stall run by a lovely chap who has been a fan since the beginning and now loves helping keep them on the road. It helps that they have just released ‘Thirteen’ – which not only returns to the numbering system they maintained up to 1973’s ‘Seven’ – but sounds like a record informed by the entire history of the Softs – complete with gestures to Daevid Allen and Robert Wyatt and sounds vital, powerful and alive in 2026.

There are some new bands taking inspiration from the Softs such as Plantoid and caroline, you can hear their DNA in artists such as Alexis Taylor. They’re probably cooler than they’ve ever been since the 1960s. As the audience take their seats the pre-gig music is a mix of Robert Wyatt’s solo work – a nice touch. 

Etheridge is joined by the very safe hands of Theo Travis – a mere 20 years into his Soft Machine career but with a firm pedigree of working with Gong, Robert Fripp, David Sylvian, and neo-prog legends like Steven Wilson and Porcupine Tree – he provides the dizzying mix of flute, sax and the all important keys. With his shades, cap and loud shirt he wouldn’t look out of place in the 1967 line-up. On bass is Fred Baker who has previous with Canterbury allumni Phil Miller of Matching Mole (look that one up!) and has worked with Etheridge since the 1980s. He’s got a fuzz pedal and he’s going to use it. Powering the drums is the remarkable Asaf Sirkis – and wonderfully his CV includes working with Robert Wyatt which is another lovely little connection back to the past. The band are lined up across the stage which is great (never understood why the drums always have to be at the back) – I find myself watching Asaf a lot – he has a lot of complicated things to navigate and he makes it look ridiculously easy and fun. 

There are two sets tonight, and as ever Etheridge is our avuncular guide, providing a few laughs and making sure this doesn’t become an austere recital and guiding the audience through the set and a bit of history. The first set is mostly taken from the excellent new record apart from the wonderful, hypnotic ‘Tales of Taliesin’ from ‘Softs’ (aka ‘One over the Eight’) written by Karl Jenkins (who caused a stir being the only Soft Machine member at the coronation of King Charles).

The new material is really striking live. Inevitably there is a lot of soloing from Etheridge and he does like to play incredibly fast runs on the guitar which is not something entirely to my taste but, to be fair, he did have Jimi Hendrix as a fan and in many ways he does on the guitar what Mike Ratledge used to do on the fuzzed-up keyboard as the signature of the 70s Softs. Importantly he can also do very economical playing too and knows when to sit back and provide the bed for the rest of the Softs – using effects to replicate strings or horn parts from the older songs. 

They start the 2nd set with ‘Out-Bloody-Rageous’ from ‘Third’ with Theo providing those hypnotic ambient tape loops for the intro before it morphs into what Etheridge warns is in 15/8 time, so beware anyone tapping a foot to it. ‘Third’ is an album which I think critically is being seen as the key work for the Softs and for me, a truly extraordinary record which seems to sound different every time I listen to it and hearing some of this live is an absolute treat. It’s followed by a detour right back to the first 1968 album with ‘Joy of a Toy’ which, they point out, is essentially a piece for bass guitar and gives Fred his moment in the spotlight. A medley built around some mid 70s Softs deep cuts and a mighty drum solo – (of course) ends the set but the band stay on for a most definitely called-for encore. We get Backwards/Noisette from ‘Third’ – and, not for the first time, we’re not in ‘Jazz Fusion’ land at all but in the world of King Crimson, Henry Cow or latterly Cardiacs – psychedelic sax fuelled wig outs – rock in opposition. Otherwordly and Fantastic. 

Purists may disagree but for my money, Soft Machine were in the room tonight. They did it again – they did it again…

Back in my favourite cellarful of noise and seeing as headliners, Goon, have swapped LA for Manchester rain it would be rude not to check them out wouldn’t it? Sadly, the billed support act, the wonderfully C86-tastic Autocamper are out of action due to injury.

In their place at very short notice we’re in for a different kind of Manic Pop Thrill in the shape of fellow Mancs, Holly Head. They’re new to me and as I’m a bit crestfallen at the no-show of ‘ver Camper, they’re going to have to work hard to get me grooving in my anorak. It doesn’t take long and, from the off, they’re an explosion of speedy math-rock riffs and wired, kinetic energy. There is constant movement on stage, but it’s not flashy, nor is it agressive. If they had a shave and got some sharp suits it could almost be Talking Heads level of precision, albeit with a big dose of furious grit and grizzle at the state of things in our damp, bewildered little island. The vocalist almost gets an on the-spot-fine from me for going for the dreaded Sprechgesang at times but perhaps more in the spirit of Happy Mondays, or even manc veterans Dub Sex than the Idle Sleaford Yard (and fortunately they can also sing properly).

Think Black Midi without the bad jokes and inverted commas, or maybe early A Certain Ratio being shot out of a cannon. All scatter shot rhythms, lightning fast guitars, a bassist who plays like a polyrhythmic human sequencer – it’s dazzling but again, not showy. There is texture too, the songs are underpinned with washes of heavily treated guitar echoes and synth fx that add a touch of Big Music ambience underneath. There’s lot of variation in tempo and dynamic too, but everything is played like their lives depend on it. It has….impact.

If I was writing for Louder Than War I’d be now fishing for a volley of superlatives but suffice to say – as the young kids near me declaim.. they’re “sick” and win over what is a respectable sized crowd for a miserable Tuesday night. Hooray for Holly Head.

Next up, the headliners Goon are a hard to categorise combo. They’re a bit dream pop, a bit shoegaze, a bit grungey with intricate chords and a habit of meandering into unusual musical corners. Kenny Becker sings in a high register, a little like Jonathan from Mercury Rev or in that high tenor range of Green Gartside even. Musically they recall the underrated brilliance of Pale Saints, Lush or latter day baroque popsters like Peel Dream Magazine. But they can also surprise you by rocking out and can lurch from that choirboy whisper to gutteral screaming in a heartbeat – suggesting a penchant for hardcore punk and thrash too. Cor. Although they have a powerhouse of a drummer behind them, they dazzle with a more cerebral and intricate approach compared to the pyrotechnics of the support act. Samples, loops and occasional keys all add to the mix that elevates them above being mere neo-shoegazers

This is their first Manchester gig and first time in the UK but they’ve already got a bit of a fanbase – enough for some cheers of recognition and everywhere you look there are heads gently bopping. Although the music at times takes you up on ethereal clouds of complex chord changes, you’re never far from a bit of rock action as their guitar necks swoop down for burst of riffage and excitement just to wrong-foot you from getting too blissed out.

Kenny also reveals the source of the humming sound that plagues every guitarist that plays in the basement…turns out it’s something to do with the electrified railway above the venue (Who knew? Seems everyone at the front knew that but I didn’t!). Anyway, go see them if you get chance, or have a listen to their new LP the excellent ‘Dream 3′. Goon will make you swoon

I don’t think there’s such a thing as a casual Cardiacs fan. Nobody ‘quite likes’ them. You’re either in, or you’re not and in a packed out Albert Hall tonight everyone is very much ‘in’. They are the very definition of an acquired taste. I first encountered them in 1987 when seeing a now infamous video performance of their song ‘Tarred and Feathered’ on Channel 4 Pop show The Tube.

I love it now – but it made no sense to me at the time, and was indeed a curious choice of a promotional clip being one of their most extreme and divisive tracks (it sounds like Madness trying to play a song on a very fast moving rollercoaster while some scary clowns have a fight in one of the other cars) – I wrote them off as a wacky, knockabout comedy band and that was that. In the 80s and 90s when the weekly music press was so influential I probably absorbed the disdain the NME and Melody Maker had for the band. Even John Peel had no time for them. They were a bit prog rock, psychedelic, whimsical and strange and completely out of step with the Britpap times.

Fast forward to the late 90s and I have a dim memory of someone (no idea who) leaving a couple of Cardiacs tapes in my shared house and they sat for months gathering dust next to to the stereo. I didn’t play them. I probably wasn’t ready for them. Fast forward to the 2010s and I read a blog post about them and, out of vague curiosity clicked on a YouTube clip of ‘Dirty Boy’. Bang! This indescribable, epic song with its Magma-like choral refrain and spiralling guitar chords was a very long way from the hectic clowning of ‘Tarred and Feathered’.

I played a few more songs, including a live clip of them playing their signature song ‘Is This The Life’ live in their native Salisbury to a heaving moshpit – Tim and Sarah Smith doing a merry dance with guitar and saxophone. Fantastic, my new favourite band, time to get their back catalogue and maybe I can see them live?

Slight problem – it turned out their leader Tim Smith was laid low with a terrible and cruel illness. What happened next is well documented but a happy postscript is the band members have returned to the stage and last year completed Tim’s final LP ‘LSD’ – using musical scores, lyrics and instructions left by Tim – and there have been several celebratory live shows with Cardiacs past and present chipping in.

Tonight’s performance is a radically different set and line-up to the previous Cardiacs show in Manchester which was billed as ‘Cardiacs family and friends’ – fronted by Jon Poole and dressed all in white – and tonight, dressed all in black with the vaguely Masonic sashes the band wore on their final shows while Tim was alive – tonight, this is Cardiacs. The line up comprises many of the musicians that completed the LSD album and wow, what a band. Centre stage is Tim’s brother Jim holding it down on Bass and remaining inscrutable as ever even when the crowd chant his and his late brothers names. He’s joined by the mercurial Kavus Torabi who, when he isn’t a Cardiac, is also in Gong and making records with snooker champion Steve Davis in The Utopia Strong. Kavus is a magnetic presence, reeling off space rock guitar with ease – staring open mouthed at the crowd like he’s never seem an audience before and generally giving it some top rock action. Other side is Mike Vennart, formerly of cult Manchester shoegazers Oceansize and now has a day job playing with Biffy Clyro. Vennart has the unenviable task of singing Tim’s high pitched and impossibly complex and verbose vocals which he makes light work of while also reeling off crazy chord shapes. Sharron Fortnam and Chloe Herington provide the soaraway vocals and saxophony that are so key to the more epic side of Cardiacs being showcased tonight and do a fine job of looking stern and serious while the silly boys ‘rock out’. Craig Fortnam (who, with Sharron, also fronts the brilliant North Sea Radio Orchestra who we spoke of last year) is on keys and percussion, Cardiacs lifer Bob Leith is tireless on the drums and finally on 2nd keyboard is Rhodri Marsden – your go-to guy for complicated keyboard parts – last seen with Scritti Politti.

They start right in the deep end with ‘Ditzy Scene’ from the new record and a highly complex and multi-faceted ‘No Bright Side’ and it strikes me I’m in a packed venue with people avidly engaged with what is quite uncompromising music with jagged chord changes and time signatures and yet it feels like a visceral post-punk show, not a chin stroking prog-rock recital. This is probably what Henry Cow had in mind when they thought the ‘music for the masses’ should be wonky Jazz rock. No matter how off-beam and intricate things get, there is always a driving riff or soaring chorus to pull you back in – and the band are having fun. So are we. The crowd respond with ovations that raise the roof and clearly take the band aback at times.

The set leans into the new record of course and unlike last years gig, for the ‘oldies’ they dip into later albums like ‘Guns’ and ‘Sing to God’ so it’s a deeper and more expansive sounding set which fills this much larger room. ‘Everso Closely Guarded Line’ from (fan favourite) ‘On Land and In the Sea’ ends the first set with an extended guitar chord that rings out for an eternity. They’re back for an astonishing take on that song that first hooked me in ‘Dirty Boy’ – which takes on almost religious overtones in the former methodist hall “We Will Praise Him” before Mike appears up on the balcony to perform the brilliant Bowie-esque ‘The Whole World Window’ before throwing flowers into the crowd.

Having introduced each member of the band non-verbally, he holds a picture of Tim Smith aloft for the biggest cheer of the night. They did him proud.

They could have ended there but there is time for two sure fire crowd pleasers, a sing-along ‘Big Ship’ and ‘Is This The Life’. It begs the question what next? Jim and the band have finished Tim’s final album and for my money, made a record that stands up among the Cardiacs finest. There’s clearly and audience for this music and a lot of people invested in keeping Tim’s music alive, hopefully various incarnations of Cardiacs will continue to perform and we can continue to Sing To Tim.

Like Artie Fufkin from Spinal Tap, I go back with these. I first saw them in 2023 at a Sonic Cathedral event at The White Hotel where they quietly raised the roof. I bought a tape of their debut single at the merch table and chatted to the band about working with Rudy Tambala (of A.R Kane/MARRS) – and they dropped some hints about a big support slot that was in the works. Sure enough, next time I saw them they were supporting the revived Slowdive on a massive stage. They clearly gathered a lot of supporters on their travels on that tour and here they are on a smaller stage but with a full house and – from the off – a lot of love in the room.

Their debut LP had some fine tracks on it, but didn’t quite capture the majesty of their live sound or their range and potential for me. The new one ‘Sunlight Echoes’ definitely does. It has heft, emotion, and is bursting with oceanic melodies that are beautifully played and sung. This is Dream Pop and – that word again – Shoegaze – but more influenced by the Slowdive comeback than the 90s era, and Cocteau Twins when they were into their latter phase – Four Calendar Cafe era. They’re veering into a level of Pop sophistication and worldliness that belies their relative youth as a band.

This is one of those gigs where everyone is here to see the band rather than lig and chat, it’s a mixed crowd of young and old who know they’re catching something special. The band look ice cool but warm and engaging at the same time – bassist Vannessa Govinden radiates attitude and her driving bass is the heart of the band as the swirling reverb of guitars and chiming chords swells and envelopes us.

The four piece draw heavily on the new record tonight and although the music demands a lot of concentration on FX pedals they do look up and engage with the audience – not least the talkative drummer Jagen – who does a lot of the in-between song chat as a hidden voice – if I have one bit of advice for the band I’d say arrange the stage so he can sit forward so we can see him and watch him play, at least until they’re headlining bigger venues which I’m sure they will.