“We’ve got two songs left and this is the happier one.” The Death of Pop’s frontman Oliver James says near the end of their set, but let’s jump back about an hour before we get to this. The walk to The Hope & Ruin was spent trying not to step in puddles, stopping the rain running down my back and generally trying to keep warm. When I got inside the venue it wasn’t much warmer, but I was with friends and that seemed to cut the cold out. We made our way upstairs and awaited the evening’s music to start. On the menu tonight were The Death of Pop and The Wytches!

The Death of Pop kicked things off with ‘Yugoslavia’ an instrumental choked full of jaunty riffs and a surf vibe that sounded like The Jesus and Mary Chain covering The Beach Boys. Why don’t more bands start their gigs with instrumentals? It sets the tone perfectly. Next up was ‘Gardens’. This slab of summer indie-pop was much needed as the rain outside had put a chill in the room. ‘Whenever’ is that perfect slice of bubble gum pop and shoegazing noise. After a few bars the crowd was humming/whistling along with its catchy motif, even if many of them hadn’t heard it before. Fan favourite ‘Mirage’ was another blast of sunshine in a dank room that smelt of dog. It’s not every day you think a live band are playing their song at the wrong speed! Then they played a new song. ‘Pain is Needless’ was visceral and woozy. A mixture of everything that was good and hopefully about the early 90s indie boom. The set closed with the colossal ‘Sun in My Eyes’. The outro was a searing mix of psychotic riffs from guitarist Angus James and a driving/pounding rhythm section. It was the nearest thing we’ll get to a freakout in 2017, unless the political landscape changes drastically and there is euphoria on the streets. The Death of Pop’s power is how they manage to convey bright and breezy themes with complex riffs and a tight rhythm section. It’s almost like The Boo Radleys, circa 1991-1994, were covering The Travel Agency. After they finished, and went off to sell merch, there was a short break before the headliners took to the stage.

The last time I saw The Wytches in Brighton it was at The Haunt. While that was an amazing gig, looking down on them play to the seething throng in front, this setting felt more fitting. The intimate setting of the Hope and Ruin, the short proximity between them and their adoring fans felt like home. Opening with ‘Ghost House’ the band set out their statement of intent for the night. Massive 1970’s rock riffs, screeching vocals and searing guitar solos all with a hint of Psychobilly. The sold out crowd suitably impressed as they jumped, swooned, sung along. ‘Darker’ slowed things down a bit, but when the chorus kicked in everything was loud and lairy again. The star of the show was ‘Gravedweller’. This fan favourite was delivered with the same level of intensity and visceral growling that helped them breakout from their peers back when it was originally released in 2014. Sounding like The Cramps covering 60s Status Quo ‘Gravedweller’ is, and was, a tour de force and just to hear it again made braving the elements worthwhile. ‘Wide at Midnight’ slowed things down a bit. This change of pace was much needed as up until this point everything had pretty much been frenetic riffs and screeching vocals. As soon as ‘Wide at Midnight’ finished it was time for the last song ‘Wastybois’. This closed the set the same way as it had been opened. As soon as it finished the crowd went wild. The applause was louder than their amps had been! After a brief break they returned with fan favourite ‘Burn Out the Bruise’.

The only problem with The Wytches is after a few songs it all starts to roll into one. There is only so many sonic punches you can take to your senses before you start to check how much change you have for another drink, try and work out when the last bus/train home is, whether it’ll be raining and if you have time to get something to eat en-route. Saying that, they are one of the best at what they do and this evening in a small venue in Brighton, we were reminded that they are still the Kings of Freak City. Hail to the Kings.
Nick Roseblade

Photo by Will Ireland Photography