Dogs on the roof, bunch of cool bands and grilled meats. Three things that indicate all-dayer fun at the Brixton Windmill, this time around curated by zine and promo outfit It’s All Happening.
Demarco’s stage persona is hilarious, serious, stupid, clever, vulnerable, nonchalant – but always endearing and seldom less than magnetic.
Dripping with originality and authenticity that is not only evident in his style but in his gritty tunes and gripping stage presence.
Alert to the youthful crowd’s rampant enthusiasm, the band do their bit to crank things up a notch.
If only other bands knew how to press buttons with as much conviction as Hot Chip, both literally and metaphorically.
Any preconceptions due to their youth and inexperience, are dispelled in an instant.
‘Your Old Man’ is proof that PARTYBABY have been living up to their name from day one
The expanded Acid Mothers Temple incarnation made the difficult look easy.
The front barrier became stacked with bodies screaming in harmony, a gruesome scene so beautiful you could cry.
Their commitment to political critique isn’t just a sidenote to their music. We don’t just like Algiers, we are pushed forward by them.
Captivating the already-rapt audience with his commanding presence, Kojey Radical proves himself to be as much a live talent as a recorded one.
Last Tuesday night, West London singer-songwriter, Rukhsana Merrise, played a heart felt stripped back set at Omeara which hinted at the promise of her upcoming project and shone a light on what is set to be a bright future for this unique artist.
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Even at just five tracks, ‘Not Mathematics’ proves quite the statement-of-intent
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It's an album of Spirograph motorik grooves and rocket-booster Korg thrums, of plucked strings and lilting church organs
Plug an LP directly into a wall socket it would undoubtedly sound like Motion, which positively bubbles over with its dynamic and propulsive energy.
Conversations encompasses painfully relatable human emotion, a record of utterly beguiling beauty
Crush Songs is the sound of Karen O scraping herself up from rock bottom and, occasionally, its fractured torment will floor you
Perhaps sat on a Portuguese beach, sipping on caipirinhas, II would begin to get a whole lot more appealing, but right now it seems a tad underwhelming