Those that have kept up with the reviews here may be well acquainted with The Marigolds. The three-piece have been terrorising the Merseyside music scene for six years now, their sound a wickedly electrifying amalgamation of “punk, funk, and synthy junk”. There have already been multiple reviews of their live performances on this site, so some of you may ask as to why I accepted yet another opportunity to review them.
The answer is simple: The Marigolds are addictive. One of the best live acts in the north west right now, and perhaps even further afield than that, The Marigolds have repeatedly represented precisely why you need to turn up to your local venues and support local talent. Furthermore, where The Marigolds headline, fantastic supports are often certain to be on offer. The offer was not simply one I could not refuse, but one that would be utterly stupid to refuse.
Opening band The Nocturnal waste little time in getting straight to the point, unleashing driving grooves that are immediate in their impact. It’s slick, groovy, and just a little moody, an element of the gothic creeping in. Guitars bleed with feedback as vocals smoke and swirl, coalescing around a rhythmic backbone that simply refuses to let up. All of this is coated in sumptuous, jazzy keys, elevating the performance to a theatrical level.
The band’s third track in the set is punctuated by jarring rhythmic thrusts that hook you right beneath your skin. Vocals ebb and flow between silky lows and feathery highs that carry a touch of Kate Bush’s ethereal ways. The band then fully lean into their gothic sensibility, and go on to perform a Siouxse and the Banshees cover. There is an intensity about them that makes them wholly beguiling to watch; their keyboardist in particular makes for a particularly bewitching presence, performing with a spirited passion.
Nerves take time to overcome during a band’s career, but it is clear that, going forwards, the band have a multitude of reasons to be confident. It is evident from the audience that they possess an undeniable ability to both captivate and ignite. Not one person in the room is stood still or acting disinterested, soaked up the darkness that this band have to offer. The Nocturnal admit they did not anticipate the size of the audience they would be playing to, and as if prompted by that, finally get around to introducing themselves. When that wall between audience and performer crumbles, the band show a real charm to their nature; beneath the gloom, there’s a real sweetness to their demeanour. One could easily imagine, given time, The Nocturnal joining the likes of Creeper or Zetra on a major line-up.
There’s a real immensity to Humongous Fungus that slams into the listener like a bull let loose. Wailing feedback gives way to crushing riffs that crackle above a cruising bass line; this show marked the first time the three-piece had ever played outside of Manchester, and it was evident that they were seeking to grasp this opportunity with both hands. Their vocalist and guitarist is captivating in their intensity, oscillating between dirty riffs and soaring guitar solos with effortlessness. Their demeanour softens immensely as they invite listeners to fill the front of the venue for a dance, before returning to a fiery focus.
The band’s drummer is a thrill to behold at the back of the stage, violent and precise, carving out rollercoaster rhythms with a carefully controlled aggression and a relentless well of energy. Over to the left, their bassist lays down swaggering five-string grooves from behind a thick mask of hair, eyes fixed on their weapon of sonic destruction as they articulate surprisingly complex hooks. Guitar effects are used to great effect; your Cadillac cruising down the desert freeway takes off as a spaceship, grit replaced by glimmer whilst losing zero punk ferocity. There’s a real sense of showmanship that is undeniable captivating and joyful to behold; the humanity of punk remains front and centre, but the theatrical flair is wonderfully subtle.
To have been a part of Humongous Fungus’ first show outside of their home city was a true honour. Punk can be both revolutionary and playful, and it is clear that Humongous Fungus understand this; joy is a revolutionary act, and watching this band lay down their psychedelic toned fury brings immense joy. The band no doubt have now founded a second home in Liverpool.
To be both dreamlike and monstrous perhaps feels oxymoronic, but within that contrast is where the art of Sisters blooms. Loud, with a crackling rawness around the edges, yet intersected with beautiful harmonies and rich musical landscapes. Vocals sweep up towards feathery highs, and crash back down to earth as vicious screams. Guitars lift up from pillow texturing to form streaks of shimmering melody, whilst drums frolick through a variety of polyrhythms that continually jitter and reassemble themselves into new, captivating assemblages of beats.
A veil exists between the audience and these strange fae creatures, and those in attendance are captivating by their continually enigmatic and shifting presence. Their vocalist perches herself atop a cab of speakers, restlessly changing position, eyes bright with a wild mischief. She screams as the track rises up into spiraling crescendos, and toys with her fellow musicians in ways that prompt bemused looks from her peers.
The band unfurl a cover of Adrianne Lenker’s ‘ingydar’. The harmonies are on display wonderfully here, vocalist and bassist complimenting one another, grounded and present, sprightly and ethereal. The folk tones work naturally with the band’s skill set, reverberating with a vicious strangeness that keeps you held firmly within the grasp of Sisters.
Anybody who keeps their ear to the ground regarding Merseyside’s music scene may well have heard of Sisters, and it has to be said that the band do not match the hype that they had been preceded by; the surpass that hype in every regard. It is hard to overstate just how vital Sisters feel; they are a band wholly unfazed by being perceived as strange or off-putting, and the result is an experience unlike any other. They are certain to be your local indie magazine’s next favourite band.
The venue is packed to the sound booth at the back of the room, wall to wall with bodies. The Marigolds have been honing their craft for years now, and at long last it is beginning to pay off; they are the band people turn up for, beloved by their peers. Joe Took is a monstrous frontperson, commanding the venue with a wild confidence and a delightful eccentricity, complimented by a vocal range that defies human standards. ‘Out Of My Mind’ sees screams unleashed straight from the gates of hell itself, a raging inferno atop of cruising bases lines.
Is Dan Kelly the best live guitarist in Merseyside? Perhaps the northwest? The argument is plausible. Utterly devious riffs are laid down with a swaggering confidence and infectious charisma that makes it impossible to ignore him, kitted out in a custom jump suit and a sharp smile. And yet despite being pinned behind two phenomenally bold presences, what Charlie Foster brings to the trio is magnificent. The bolts that hold together a shuttle continuously on the verge of explosion, he is a monolithic, steadfast presence in a hurricane of punkish delights, the controlled blaze to Took and Kelly’s raging inferno.
The band dedicate one of their songs explicitly “for the gays and theys”, whilst appropriately ripping through a set that feels like the heaviest, nastiest, and rawest the band have pieced together in quite some time; it fits the dimly lit dive bar venue on every level imaginable. Alex Usher of alright (okay) is the kind of hype man we all need in our lives, instigating a miniature riot in the venue’s centre. The Marigolds surge into their live set favourite ‘Kitchen Party Anthem’, and the audience revel in the chaos. Kelly towers over the crowd atop a stereo, whilst Took peruses the front row, a prowling, enticing presence, gaze piercing behind an immaculately wild mane of hair.
The band’s brand new single, ‘Friends’, translates even better on stage than in studio, as the band permit the track’s sprawling space-age vibe to run riot in the tiny room. The bass lines, performed by Took, are astounding to behold in a live context, snagging attendees on the subatomic level and dragging them into The Marigolds’ home dimension of groove. Looking at the swirling mass of bodies that the trio conducted through their antics, it felt clear that this headline show marked a moment of evolution for the band; certainly, they have never previously failed to rile up a crowd, but there was an element of complete surrender here from the crowd that demonstrated a clear degree of adoration. This was not simply a room of friends, family, or compulsive concert goers; this was a room of people who had explicitly bought a ticket for The Marigolds and friends. The confidence of the band made it clear that they knew this fact, as they commanded the venue with the presence of a band ten times their size.
To musicians and promoters across the UK seeking to round out their line up, whether punk, funk, indie, metal, or something else entirely: The Marigolds are an essential addition. The trio have truly conquered Merseyside, and carry themselves with the energy of a band read to conquer your own local venues. Of course, once you let The Marigolds into your life, there’s no turning back, but I assure you, that risk is wholly, wholly worth taking.
For those that purchased a ticket, these four bands cost £11. That £11 goes straight to local creatives, performing in a local venue, playing an integral part of your local nightlife. The fabric of your local culture is not woven by Live Nation or Wetherspoons, but promoters such as Johnsy’s Shots and venues such as Outpost. Turn up, bring a friend, and be a part of your community.
VINYL FANTASY REVIEWS 
Leave a comment