Sorcha Richardson has been buzzing around for a while, but this is her first visit to London, and she’s chosen the tiny Servants Jazz Quarters for her debut show in the capital. It also happens to be the hottest day of the year to date, and so this tiny little room is something of a sweatbox.

She starts off with ‘Lost’ and ‘Can’t We Pretend’ before Petrol Station kicks the packed out audience into gear, singing along to the bouncy tune. She’s spent the last twelve months recording a new album (First Prize Bravery set for release in the autumn) and we’re treated to some new tunes, which seem to bear the same trademark laidback and observational style, underpinned by sketchy synths and poppy melodies. ‘Don’t Talk About’ It is a jaunty infectious indie-pop that is brilliant fun, a spiky, hook-laden lament on the intricacies of romantic miscommunication, and will capture new fans. The Dublin born star moved to New York when she was 18, and it marked a gear shift in her writing and performing, but Ireland still shimmers through her storytelling.

She’s supported by Morning Midnight, who play some rocky folk, and also come back to play for Sorcha, ramping things up a gear from their support set.

The sound isn’t great, ricocheting around the room and bouncing back from the sound desk, but Sorcha is enigmatic and friendly, her warm presence and uplifting rhythms buoying the crowd. She seems genuinely thrilled that we’re all here – and we’re pretty happy too.

Wed 10th October

The Dome is empty on this Wednesday night, but there’s a couple of hours to go before Amber Arcades grace the stage. 

Thankfully opener The Underwater Boys are on stage and ready, their singer having been struggling to get him and his bike through the queue until me and my friends let him jump ahead of us. The room reverberates with androgynous vocals and heavy stamping dance moves and the feel is of angry Britpop backed up with a laptop. The dancing is evocative of how I imagine a gnome running. 

Basement Revolver don’t look like pop stars, but then in today’s climate of bedroom creativity and independent activity, what does this even mean? Led by Chrisy Hurn, singer, guitarist and songwriter, they share intimate stories and personal wounds from her past, blending 90s infused indie rock with fuzzy dream pop. It’s a short set, but they sweetly invite us all to hang out with them at the merch stall, not being keen to carry it all back to the US with them.  

At 9.40 Amber Arcades enter, and the room has filled out, all here to see the Dutch artist Annelotte de Graaf and her band. They immediately fire up with passion and vigour, getting the until now lacksadaisical crowd going. It’s rocking dream pop with an angsty bristle, all powerful and energetic. 

There are often shades of personal in the political, and whilst the tracks on latest album European Heartbreak are ostensibly about a breakup, it’s impossible not to view them through the lens of Brexit and current international relations. On Goodnight Europe she sings ‘Europe, it’s not you, I’m starting to think it’s me, my leftist ideals, and my university degree. de Graaf was born in Utrecht and worked as a legal aide in the United Nations before embarking on her music career. Perfect pop tune Oh My Love (What Have We Done) has a hand clap chorus, and is introduced as ‘Oh Europe what have we done.’ Self-Portrait In A Car At Night is a standout tune, turning the focus on de Graff and a sense of loneliness and isolation. Although touring the new album, de Graff makes sure there’s plenty of crowd pleasers from Fading Lines, her droney and reverb heavy debut album.  

DeGraff owns the stage, the band most definitely her backing, although by the end the bare chested bassist in skinny stripey trousers is rivalling for attention. She shimmers through her warm stage presence and optimistic banter. It’s a lively and lovely midweek pick me up, and one that confirms de Graaf as one of the most tender and zealous songwriters on the ascendency.

With a thunderous quiver EERA and her band mates launch into Living. Her songs are like steely clouds, heavy in the venue. With black lips and a white guitar that’s bigger than she is, she’s a captivating force on the stage, vivid and expressive. Melodies swim sullenly over guttural assaults of chords and compulsive riffs. I Wanna Dance is lively and much heavier than on record, and Christina epic and abrasive. A mix of catchy melodies, simmering riffs and distorted phrases, the whole thing is underpinned with a sense of energy bursting out of its confines.

Dark and shadowy at the same time as being sweetly beguiling, the Norwegian singer might not have managed to get the crowd talking, but she did have them listening. As the crowd fills up and her sound swells, there’s a sense of excitement brewing.

And the main event provides reason for that excitement. Ghostpoet performs with characteristic aplomb and gravitas. Tunes are powerful and potent, beats scattering like gunshots made of glass. Both the songs and the man are of a vivacious character, captivating the audience, and Obaro Ejimiwe’s lyrical gymnastics pummel away at a doggedly smacked out pace. Compulsive rhythms are joyfully executed, impressive and imposing. The first half of the set is new album heavy, but the tunes are catchy enough to already have their fans. His fourth record, Dark Days + Canapés has a sense of forboding about it that translates well to the industrial set of the Roundhouse, but its sometimes bleak nature is lifted by the lighter moments and big hits. EERA joins the band on Dopamine If I Do’, the track to which she lent her vocals prior to the tour.

Twitchy, compelling, and deliciously varied, Ghostpoet can’t help but captivate. Is it rap? Is it rock? Is it poetry? Is it music? Genre defying but utterly entertaining.

When I was a teenager there was nothing to do in Ashford, bar kick around bemoaning life, sharing a single portion of chips between twenty of us in McDonald’s, and drinking too much cheap beer. Music, art, culture and community were on the thin side, and we had to travel to London to find any kind of decent live gigs. Now things are changing, with The Creative Collective, an amped up Create Festival, and the brilliant Revelation, who host some top names in the space of St Mary’s Church.  So a night with Cate Le Bon and friends is definitely a win for the town.

Kicking things off and embracing the eighties aesthetic with their electronic beats, cats and catsuits, were Hastings duo Elf & Stacy. Their sparse rhythms and flat ghostly vox went over the heads of most of the audience heavily populated by the Ashford Folk Society, although a few did get up for the finale ‘Dance, Jump, Move’ and its dictatorial instructional lyrics.

Appearing to have taken the church location literally and appearing dressed in cassocks, Tim Presley and his band play trippy folk with an off beat sensibility reminding of The Coral. Once of the band The Nerve Agents, then playing as White Fence and last year collaborating with Le Bon as DRINKS, Presley knows his stuff. He is vibrant and passionate in sound, and with his guitar held high and his waistband higher, he played through his solo output with deadpan demeanour, all to thumping drums and twisted bass

Exuding wilful passion and playing her guitar with crisp athleticism Cate Le Bon is charming and compelling on stage. Lashes of electric bass cross with belting drums and keys in a melding pot of brash folk and rocking psych. ‘We Might Revolve’ does exactly that, whirling into a landslide of distortion, and crowd rising ‘Love Is Not Love’ made for the kind of set that attracted newcomers and pleased old fans. ‘On Fire’ was beguiling and ‘Wonderful’, the first single from newest album Crab Day, the exact idiosyncratic drama that is Le Bon’s trademark. It all feels off kilter and free, and also beautifully constructed and compelling. There’s a lovely quirkiness of bitter anguish delivered with vibrant assurance.

Given the time of year, a Christmas tune had to be done. A twisting and enticing version of Wham’s ‘Last Christmas’ was Cate Le Bon’s Christmas treat to us all. It’s a show we’ll be remembering until at least the next Christmas.

First published on Joyzine

As always the tunes are revealing and cathartic for Taylor, and somehow as their style has become more potent and rocky and less whimsical indie folk, they’ve also become more personal to Taylor, but no less powerful to an audience. It’s been twelve years since they started out, and in that time they’ve grown up in the limelight but not lost any of the vivacity of their early days. Just as energetic and radiant, but with more grit and steel, the new songs have notes of heartbreak, depression, and tension, and in this stripped back setting there’s something very intimate about hearing them.

Confident in their identity, at least as a musical duo, the show is compelling. They eschew perfection in favour of personality, and bring the audience along with them. Witty asides never detract from brilliant songs, and the new ones are just as captivating as those more well known. As one of my favourite bands ever I always slightly fear that they might let me down – play a shit show or come across as arrogant twits. They do neither. They continue to win me over. Finally, a trio of old favourites is ushered in with a sing-a-long Tears of Joy, almost heart melting, before closing with a vibrant Two Cousins. Slow Club are back, and at the top of their game.