Rainy Monday night. I am in the upstairs room in East London, right in the heart of Shoreditch, lucky enough to catch The Winter Passing on their short UK run.
Fuzzy electric guitars, catchy tunes, 90s vibes by the truckload, long hair and plaid shirts, that's The New Tusk for you. Their grungy, college rock songs are efficient and of the "I'm going to stay stuck in your head for the rest of eternity" variety, they are ambient and moody at times, but mostly short, fast and urgent. The New Tusk was a name I had seen lying around for a while and, without a doubt, noticed on a gig poster or two around their hometown of Brighton, but I had never taken the time to put a sound to the name. The mistake has been corrected tonight.
Next time I go on a road trip in the summer, I want to listen to The New Tusk on full blast. It sounds like the dream.
You know how, sometimes, you will listen to a band, whether it is live or on CD, and you will only have one thought, one question in your brain : where has this band been all my life? There is not much that I love more than finding a band that becomes a piece to the puzzle, a piece I didn't even know was missing. I got one of those tonight, in the form of Southsea bound Personal Best. From the get go, I found myself on board. They have a sugary sweet aspect I seem to be madly attracted to these days, a vibe that says their songs could be the soundtrack to my new favourite film, filled with loveliness and sweetness, really. They have catchy, power pop tunes, also of the "I'm going to stay stuck in your head until the end of eternity" variety (Love Letter, please). Their vocalist sounds delicate and fits with the poppy vibe, but fierce and powerful enough to grab my attention and tug at my heartstrings. They were another band I had heard of in passing, whose name I had probably seen on gig posters or something and, once again, the mistake of not looking twice before has been fixed tonight.
(It should be mentioned that the interlude between Personal Best and The Winter Passing is filled with Paramore songs and that Hard Times into Still Into You is the pop dream you didn't know you had)
Let it be known, I absolutely adore The Winter Passing, and, after tonight's show, I just want to scream it on every rooftop.
They have entered my life on one of the strangest nights I have ever experienced, and when things and people have left and disappointed, they haven't, not ever, and specifically not tonight. Their music and their live show, full of energy and enthusiasm, is reminiscent of a sunny day, is a ray of sunshine in the gloom of a desperately rainy Monday. I wish I had better, more musical words, technical terms, but every time I see them live, it feels like summer and it feels like sunshine in the best possible way, and that is the main thing my brain holds on to.
On stage, they are electric, bringing the songs from their newest EP, Double Exposure (released last week) and from their wonderful début album, A Different Space of Mind, to life. They are a band that is genuinely, tremendously delighted to be on a stage, to be playing a show, and in return, they are a joy to watch. Vocalist and keyboardist Kate Flynn bounces around the place with a bright smile from start to finish, often turning around to interact with the rest of the band, or cheerfully chatting with vocalist and guitar player Rob Flynn in between songs. One of the reasons why I love seeing The Winter Passing live as much as I do is because every song is an explosion, regardless of the theme or the lyrical content, regardless of its tempo. Their renditions never fail at being emotional, colourful and honest. I think that's what I love the most about them. There, we have it.
The Winter Passing will be back in the UK over the summer for 2000 Trees festival, and the thought of experiencing their music in a field, in a different atmosphere, outside of a small pub, is something I cannot wait for. In the meantime, I shall carry on having their song Daisy stuck in my head, and I can only recommend that you check them out.