When bands announce tours, my first reflex is to check out where they are playing in London. I don't even like London that much, but there's something about it, you know. It's the capital, for starters. The biggest city. That's also where my local shows have been for a little over a year. It's where I know the venues best. It's, in a way, another place where I feel like I belong. My love/hate relationship with London usually turns into love again as soon as I walk inside one of its venues. Especially Koko. I love Koko.

I was incredibly proud to see Mallory Knox headline Koko two nights in a row. There's a lot of personal stuff in there, a sort of attachment and pride only twenty nine shows in five different countries can bring. Mostly, there's a brilliant band who I have been lucky and privileged enough to see grow and evolve, and it's always a pleasure seeing them get bigger and play larger venues.

Like Koko.

Two nights in a row.
It's been a week, and thinking about it still makes me a little bit emotional.

Both evenings started with Scottish band Fatherson. I've seen them twice, before - once in Brighton, once in London.
Both times, I had been in two very different frames of mind, but both times, I have found in their music the same feeling I could get if I ever sat down tucked in a warm blanket in front of a fireplace, clutching a hot cup of tea. They're probably the soundtrack I would pick for that activity, come to think of it. They are comforting, they feel like a cuddle.
Koko feels a little bit different - both times I had seen them had happened in smaller rooms, so there is something less intimate about these sets. It still feels lovely and warm, of course, it does - I think the bottom line is that whatever the environment, Fatherson just radiate warmth. They're also brilliant sing along material, when you know the words, like I'm starting to do.
They are, mostly, one of the finest, best bands this country and this scene has to offer. They are everything, all at once. They are warm and delicate. Their music is explosive and sensitive. Ross Leighton's voice is unique, and it gives me chills. Damn. That band is really, really special.

Second up is Lonely The Brave. I had seen Lonely The Brave once before these two days, and I think I just hadn't understood it. It happens, sometimes. I had stood at the back (of Koko, once again), wondering what the hell was going on.
I don't know what changed, since then. Are they an acquired taste? Was I not in the right space of mind?
I just know that on Wednesday and Thursday night, I have heard in David Jakes one of the most beautiful voices I have ever heard, and it feels like a waste of the past three years not acknowledging that, not knowing that. I have heard some beautifully, delicately crafted rock songs, some beautiful pieces of musicianship, songs that are born to become arena or stadium anthems (hello, Backroads - even I knew the words and I can't quite explain why). I have seen a band with a unique stage presence, one that I misunderstood all those years ago because I didn't know the reasons why. I think I've been slightly blown away, and it took me by surprise, but I wish every band who ever walks on a stage could give me the feeling Lonely The Brave did when I saw them last week. Taking me by storm.
Second chances aren't that bad an idea, after all.





And then it's time for Mallory Knox, "my boys" as I call them a little bit too much.
They open with Giving It Up, the explosive, energetic, fiery opening track to their latest record, Wired, and the entirety of Koko immediately starts moving around, jumping, moshing and throwing limbs about. (We only did one night in the crowd, we retreated to one of the side stage balconies for the second evening)
This energy showed by the London crowd will not stop for a minute, and, for an hour and a half, the audience is singing along to every word, bouncing up and down, colliding into each other and getting involved. It feels like a big party, down there, and on the first time, I try my best to bust out my best dance moves - it gets a little complicated as the night progresses and my shoes are literally stuck to the wooden floors, and I am afraid I'll lose them if I try to move.


On stage, all I can see is a band having the time of their life. One thing I've always loved about watching Mallory Knox live is that they only ever radiate happiness. There are many a band I've seen that looked like they would rather have their eyeballs taken out of their sockets with a rusty spoon than be on a stage - the Cambridge boys aren't one of them. For an hour and a half, roughly, their big smiles and enthusiasm are infectious. Not much compares to watching a band having the time of their life.
That's how you end up having the time of your life, too.





Mallory Knox are touring in support of their newest album, Wired, released earlier this year. The new songs are well received by the crowd and words are echoed by over a thousand people every night, showing you that despite what you could have thought, the boys have a faithful following, solid and strong enough to know most words to songs that have been out in this world for barely a month.
I rarely think about it, you know.
They are one of the most discreet bands in the UK scene. They are going strong, going bigger from album to album, but they aren't on every magazine cover or promoted by every media outlet. Granted, they've been in magazines at times and I've heard Better Off Without You on BBC Radio One, but, you know... they don't exactly have the media presence of a band like twenty one pilots, if you know what I mean. They are still fairly small and independent.
And they're still doing extremely well.


I've been following Mallory Knox closely since the day my friend Cat took me to see them at Takedown, in 2012, because she thought they sounded like You Me At Six and I would like it. It's been five years now, twenty nine shows, five countries and enough material to tell you how I have seen this band evolve.
They've always had something. They have always had a stage presence and they have always had a little special thing that made me look twice and listen closely. I couldn't quite place it. Now, this something special has fully grown and developed into confidence. I can tell it in the way they play, in the way they interact with the crowd. They're not a bunch of kids in a rock band anymore, they are grown men who believe the music they do is good and who are proud of what they can produce and achieve. They are confident without being cocky, they have attitude but aren't show offs.





Every time I have seen them over the past five years, every song has been a pleasure to hear live.
I could complain that they seem to have ditched Oceans forever or that they have replaced one of my favourite songs, Heart & Desire, with newbie Falling in Love, but I really don't mind. Every time a song starts, whichever one it is, I just get hit at breakneck speed by how much of a jam it is, how much I love it and, at times, how much I relate to it.
It happens with the older ones, with Lighthouse and with Beggars (still my favourite after all this time).
It happens with songs extracted from Asymmetry, like Shout at the Moon or Getaway.
It even happens with the new songs - they are in my brain and in my life already. It happens when I hear the first notes of Lucky Me or California, and it happens when I realise that the song I've wanted to hear live the most, all night, is Better Off Without You.



Ever since they had announced their two night residency at Koko, I knew seeing Mallory Knox there would be incredibly special. I can try and put words on it. I can tell you it's a pinnacle in five years of following those fine musicians and fine men around. I can tell you it's a victory for UK rock music, because these two nights were all about three incredible UK rock bands putting on one hell of a show. I can tell you many things, and yet none of it would be close enough to the truth.
This is it, guys. Words have failed me.