Bristol’s alternative scene never ceases to bring a smile to my face as it continues to
defy expectations, offering a divergence from the gloom that many may expect.
Instead, it presents a kaleidoscope of diversity, acceptance, and boundless euphoria
that captivates all who dare to immerse themselves in its vibrant embrace.
Upon entry into Stoke’s Croft rugged and rowdy Crofter’s Rights that grey-blue misty
Wednesday evening, I was met with soon-to-be crowd members spanning generations,
cultures, and subcultures. Even before the opening act graced the stage, the air buzzed
with an uncontainable excitement, a testament to the loyal and fervent anticipation of
the crowd. As I chatted with the band members soon to take the stage, the most
standout observation was that the vast majority boasted impossibly wide and genuine
smiles. Seeing this, it became clear- this was to be a night charged to the brim with an
energy so electric it could quite easily have blown the whole place off its foundations,
you could almost hear the hum of an impending implosion.
Woermhole
When that first act did board the stage amidst a veil of deep blue light and swirling
smoke, collective lungs filled, filled, filled and collapsed as one when that suspenseful
hum finally entangles itself with something new: It’s the characteristic heavy
distortion and reckless attitude of ‘Woermhole’. The five-piece crafted an equally
seductive and abrasive world of sound, all the while flaunting those same contagious
grins. You’ll never see a band feel as much joy from performing as they clearly do.
The group may have projected the image of being charming scatter-brains between
their songs (members giggling amongst each other, improvised guitar parts and jokes
cracked with audience members), but every moment during their occupation of the
venue was expertly driven. Everything that felt spontaneous still appeared deliciously
deliberate. In the drivers seat: the dark and bewitching lead singer- with her deeply
demanding vocals. The lead was hotly contested by their drummer, who hit with an
expertise so pristine it’s hard to believe, paired with an attitude so dirty the crowd was
drawn into a head-thrash almost by force. All the while, an intensely satisfying duel
ensued between the fantastically suspenseful and unnerving rhythm strumming and
the deviant and dexterous lead, slicing through the cacophony with a serrated edge.
The band echoed a youthful rage, summoning to mind Nirvana and Deftones, the
latter of the two being interpolated into their cover of ‘Toxic’. But, paired with this
rage was beautiful delivery and storytelling and intricate, haunting melodies
reminiscent of Evanescence, for example in their song ‘House’, a dark, foreboding
tale of a witch- the song that stuck with me for the rest of the week, with its opening
riff filled with tension and beauty alike.
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Monet
Shortly after, the stage, audience and venue fell into the care of ‘Monet’. Any
remaining inertia was immediately obliterated. Not a soul was still. The vocalists cast
out lyrics upon the listeners with a delivery with all the charisma and condemnation of
a lethal curse- one that had the whole room swaying, possessed. The band bore an
indescribable sense of creative chaos that evoked a slow waltz, followed by a full-
scale mosh pit mere moments later, only to progress into a traditional ‘Rasputin’
inspired Russian dance. The energy did not rest in the audience alone, though. In a
moment of shock in which the drummer’s cymbal flew clean off its stand, an audience
member (the headline act’s drummer, who had been having the time of his life, front
row) leapt on stage to his aid and returned the cymbal. The audience only grew more
feverish. They moshed, they danced, they screamed until only breathlessness
remained. At which point, the band members began beating the ever-living daylight
out of each other as the set masterfully crashed to a close -all in good fun, of course,
If there were an award for ‘most violent pit of the night’, ironically enough,
Peacelily would thrash the competition. Peacelily is a frightfully fiersome duo,
commanding and unapolagetic, fronted by ferocious punk vocals with a heavy, doom-
filled backing, with filthy, gravelly guitar as the deep, husky force behind the charge.
Around the half-way point, the duo promised a free shirt to the hardest headbanger in
the venue, and watched on with pride as madness reigned. The floor pulsed in unison
with the crowd, the room shaking. Suddenly, a stop. Someone goes down. Silence, as
the band halts. In a perfect display of the incredible respect and in the alternative
scene, the audience member was carried to safety in the sidelines, to recover. Soon,
rumours began to surface that the gig-goer was so adamant on experiencing the rest of
the night that they allegedly re-located their own kneecap themselves and limped off,
once again, into the fire. Peacelily delivered a speech about self-love to introduce their
next song, preaching the importance of looking after one another, in a beautiful
contrast to their hardcore and callous image and sound, once again reminding me why
As the night reached its crescendo, Witch Hook cast a dark spell over the audience
with their haunting melodies and raw emotion. This duo was led by shaking, mournful
vocal lines conveying such deep emotion, drawing to mind the pain of a hurting soul
hanging on one more moment before cracking. Accompanying this raw sorrow is an
unmatched energy, frontperson Dott becomes entirely taken over onstage by the stories
told and the music created, exhibiting unending writhing and jumping. Drummer, Will
is a theatrical and haunting performer, extremely animated and engaging to watch.
The two duetted their screams in a flawless and intoxicating exchange, Will, the low
and dark, and Dott, the raw and desperate. A track from their newly-released EP
‘Haunt Me’ pulsed vigorously through each wall, and beneath the feet of the crowd.
There were moments where every last inch of that dimly lit room reverberated calls
from the audience so loudly that the vocal were enveloped entirely, merging together
every emotional cry from audience and performer as one. Then came the highlight of
my personal experience- ‘Asphyxiation’. A song that had been following me in a most
desirable and dangerous fashion since hearing it back in December for the first time,
and longing to experience it again ever since. It had threatened to entirely consume
my waking consciousness- with it suspense-filled, dark progression and prolific story
to tell- so it’s just my luck (and yours, too) that it’s finally available to stream. As the set drew near to a close, a heavy sense of desperation rose to a fast and thrilling peak.
Ear shattering screams were heard, begging for the final song to be ‘Break my Back’-D. dude an old and seemingly forgotten song of theirs, but not by this audience. They called
out with all they had, until the following words rang out: “Thank you for ruining the
surprise”. Anarchy ensues, as a multitude of confused and elated screams of disbelief
fill the thick air. When the song began, I’m certain the whole room was one giant pit
for the first time all night, every soul entangled in a euphoric sadness. The drummer of
the duo’s final performance with the band was wrapped up with a solemn, yet
surprisingly brief farewell, after years of the two-piece performing together. I heard
cries from the audience. It was a heavy conclusion, as the drummer gave away his
cymbals to an audience member and everyone parted ways, a sense of change and
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