First on at those unforgiving early doors, Life Cycles emerge without fanfare, greeted by warm, if workday weary, applause from those organised (or fortunate) enough to clock off early. There’s something admirable about a band willing to let the music do the summoning, no intro tape, no bluster, just a sudden plunge into seismic bass drops, serrated pinch harmonics and the kind of rolling, double kick drumming that rearranges your ribcage.
Positioned at the heavier, hardcore-leaning end of an otherwise stylistically sprawling bill, their inclusion undoubtedly serving as a muscular warm-up for the evening’s moshers, it also shows that hardcore’s current cultural heft deserves more than late afternoon real estate. Still, Life Cycles treat the slot not as a compromise but as a proving ground. As bodies continue to trickle through the doors, the band keep the energy at a 10. Frontman Jeremy Cuevas maintains eye contact with the front row while pacing the stage. His energy is magnetic and by the midpoint of the set, even the initially static observers are nodding in time. Between tracks, Cuevas salutes the fellow bands on the line-up, a mark of a group secure enough in their own identity to lift others up.
Life Cycles are hardly newcomers, and it shows. The set is lean but assured, the transitions tight, the breakdowns landing with the confidence of a band who understand precisely how long to let tension simmer before the drop. A great set to warm up to.
Opening the show, hometown heroes Hamburger (who unsurprisingly got their name from meeting at a fast food restaurant, before you ask) are a kitschy pastiche of all of the weird and whimsical parts of the UK indie and punk-adjacent scene. Combining slice-of-life lyrics that celebrate all things quirky with melancholic riffs, unserious stage banter, (highlights include the Super Monkey Ball 2 theme) and swirling guitar tones that wouldn’t sound out of place on a My Bloody Valentine release, Hamburger’s offbeat yet undeniably catchy approach to emo combined with a dynamic and confident stage presence is exactly why they’re a pivotal part of Bristol’s diverse musical scene. Awkward in an endearing way, its a wonderful set.
Returning to the Welsh capital for a homecoming celebration, indie-rockers The Tubs seem like a strange choice of support for Militarie Gun who exploded out of the Californian hardcore scene. With jangle-pop guitars backing brutally honest lyrics from frontman Owen Williams, The Tubs are music to cry to along the same lines as The Smiths or The Cure in contrast to the headliner’s breezy skater vibes.
Despite their sound being pretty lightweight for Militarie Gun’s usual crowd, The Tubs aren’t totally edgeless, taking cues from the indie revival of the mid-noughties by clashing clean guitar lines with driving rhythms although they rarely find much sonic ground that hasn’t already been well trodden. Never quite reaching raucous punk energy, The Tubs at least try to meet the crowd half way with plenty of audience interaction and sing-along moments leading up to their anthemic closing track ‘Wretched Lie’. While plenty of fans are bound to love their Oasis style pop choruses and charming stage banter many of the punks and moshers warming up for the headliners may leave confused.
Opening the night was N8NOFACE (pronounced “Nate-no-face”), the LA-based synthpunk artist, formerly of the duo Crimekillz. His self-described ‘damaged pop’, with roots set deep in 80s synthwave, tells stories from Tuscon, Arizona, where he’s originally from, and LA, focusing on their underbellies. He doesn’t shy away from the fact that his early life in Tuscon was in close proximity to drugs and gangs and he punctuated his set with impassioned dedications delivered very matter of fact: “this song is about two murders that happened in my high school”; “this song is dedicated to the FBI who keep fucking with my family”.
He has the ability to go seamlessly from a ballad to a dystopian rave and his visceral, physical performance full of convulsions, spasms, t-shirt tugging and mic swallowing broken up by his charming yet delirious smile created a unique vibe. The audience was instantly rooting for him, and while his music included sharp commentary on socio-economical issues plaguing the US and the world right now, his overall message was that of aggressive positivity. His white t-shirt had a DIY slogan “I LOVE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH!!!” written in sharpie and he kept remarking how incredible it was for him to be there:
“I’m 50 years old, I’ve been making music in my closet – this means everything. Never give up on your dreams, who the fuck knows!”
Towards the end of his set he encouraged: “We are the freaks coming out – DANCE!” and The Dome didn’t need to hear that invitation twice.
The early arrival of the crowd says much about the health of London’s hardcore scene and by the time Agency take the stage, the room is already full and ready to bring the heat. Although, being packed out can be hit and miss for the opening slot at a any show, the promoter knew what they were doing when they booked them. Agency are becoming local heroes very quickly, even with only a few live shows under their belts they are managing to play like a well oiled machine. From the outset, they treat the audience as collaborators rather than spectators, passing the microphone around and ensuring everyone felt part of the performance. Instructions to the pit are issued plainly and followed almost instantly with two steppers dancing perfectly in time with the snare. The moshpit the band creates was clearly too tempting as their vocalist leaps into the pit, pinballing around the audience. This band love their scene, and the scene loves them back.
Ruining the perception that opening acts shouldn’t go as hard as possible (which is an impressive achievement considering the rest of the bill) Goreshit hits with near unrelenting breakcore intensity. More than just the atmospheric jungle styling that are popular on TikTok, this was breakcore in the style of taking rave culture and the hardcore dance continuum and putting it through a blender, slowly turning up the speed while looking back for approval.
Performing with finger drumming athletics over the traditional DJing, Goreshit is breakcore at its most raw & primal, and it got the kids jump styling. Towards the end of the headline set there were violent threats towards anyone that reviewed Goreshit from Machine Girl, so keep that in mind.
