You may think you have been to a rock and metal bar, but have you really? Certainly, there are plenty of spaces that will offer you a rotation of My Chemical Romance, Sum 41, and Paramore with overpriced cocktails, and perhaps they might even platform a Fall Out Boy tribute act every now and then, but at the risk of being crucified for elitism, you are missing out on the real deal.
Thankfully, for those in Merseyside, Outpost are here to rectify that matter. We have already reviewed one gig at this venue this year, and I attended another for personal pleasure back in January; there is always someone making a racket in their concert-poster-covered back room, and always a chance for you to discover just how much talent rock, metal and punk scenes possess in the grassroots arena. The handmade pizza they serve may even top the music, but we’re not here to talk about that; the job was to keep focused on the sold-out show co-ordinated by Oldham math rock outfit Lynskey, featuring support from Blagger, and a headline set from the impeccably named Luxury Nan Smell.
The last time one had been in the presence of Lynskey, the band had numbered only two, consisting of duo B and Saul, and a broken drum kit in the basement of Liverpool’s Shipping Forecast. Since that occasion, the band have quite literally doubled in size, incorporating Alex Boylan of En Passant on saxophone, and Ted Barnes of Hinged on bass. The chemistry is remarkable from the outset, and one can only imagine how this expanded lineup will sound on future studio recordings.
Even though the sheer absurdity of their performance, it is incredibly clear that each member of this outfit possesses an incalculable amount of talent, choosing to wield it with brilliant chaos. B, equipped with a fluffy, hot pink guitar strap that perfectly matches their hair, demonstrates a simply unbelievable vocal range; alternating between piercing screamed passages and sprawling vocals melodies, they sing of both an obsession with Keanu Reeves and their experiences as an openly queer individual with equal passion. The addition of live bass to Lynskey’s performances adds a real sense of weight beneath B’s complex guitar noodling, with Ted offering grooves that no doubt measure on the Richter scale.
At the very back of the stage, behind the mess of amps and tangled wires, Saul remains an utterly commanding presence throughout the performance. A ceaseless vortex of rhythmic switch-ups, peculiar time signatures, and remarkable technique, taking a moment to focus on his work during a live setting cannot help but instil you with a firm belief that you are witnessing the finest drummer in the entire north west music circuit. Lynskey’s material is technically demanding, and whilst that is clear from their studio recordings, it is a whole different experience to see it translated into a live setting.
Of course, the crowd are loud and receptive throughout the set’s entirety. B has a quiet confidence as a frontperson, filling any spaces between tracks with a sharp wit and an infectious enthusiasm for their own art. Alex is always quick to feature a two-step in her performance, never missing a note on the saxophone whilst inciting revelry amongst the crowd. From one woodwind player to another, I remain perplexed by her lung capacity. Technical difficulties regarding the saxophone microphone are dealt with promptly by sound technicians and fellow musician Zara Smile, whilst B threatens to recount a lengthy joke they know to keep the crowd entertained – not that the crowd in question needed further encouragement.
This is Lynskey, fully realised and brilliantly chaotic. It’s punk, it’s mathcore, it’s emo, it’s post-punk, it’s nu metal, it’s every genre and no genre. Think The Callous Daoboys, KNIVES, Yard Act, DEADLETTER, all merged into an unholy conglomeration that spits in the face of the mere concept of being pigeonholed. You don’t get to create music like this without both a complete understanding of and flagrant disregard for the rules; the only expectations that seems to matter to Lynskey are those they set for themselves.
At the climax of their set, B takes the time to thank all involved with the sold-out show that they have engineered. From the sound technicians, to Outpost themselves, to the very audience, B reminds listeners that all of this, and live music at every level, is only possible thanks to community; building such a community of creatives and open-minded individuals is the goal, and from there, anything is possible.
Offering their skills as the main support for the evening, Blagger is a four-piece post-punk outfit composed of veterans of the local scene. Featuring ex and current members from a variety of bands, including Under, Oolith, Arke, Mr Ted, and Glarus, the band had mustered a solid amount of support for what was their debut live outing; the audience were adorned in Blagger finery, and were well acquainted with lyrics from the band’s two singles, ‘Gary’ and ‘Thrasher’.
To describe Blagger’s sound as merely ‘post-punk’ seems a little disingenuous. Crushingly loud, the band carve out hypnotic walls of swampy, sludgy noise with thick bass fuzz and confrontational shouted vocals; the aggression of IDLES meets the monolithic weight of MASSA NERA, ceaselessly pummelling the audience with wave after wave of sonic thunder. It is strikingly intense throughout, holding your attention as the band ruminate on modern life with scathing wit.
There is also a subtle weirdness about it all which you cannot help but be wholly endeared to. The vocalist gargles his water into the mic and then goes for a walk around the floor, eyes wide and wild as he barks into his microphone. There’s a confidence that comes from experience, but the band never once appear to be resting on their laurels; Blagger is clearly just as important to each member as any other project that they have been involved.
Blagger are promising to release a debut record at some point in 2026, and that is certainly a release worth keeping on your radar. This band carry the energy of your favourite indie magazine’s favourite new band, and given that this was only the band’s first live performance, things can only improve even more. The experience at play truly shows.
Expectations for musicians have been escalating at an unrealistic pace for quite some time now. Release music regularly but maintain quality, perform regularly but don’t expect to get paid, become a social media influencer and sell all dignity down the river, create a fan community with a quirky nickname that won’t ever get used… and now, thanks to the trio of miscreants known as Luxury Nan Smell, bands are going to be expected to produce their own branded soap.
The Birmingham three-piece have become an acclaimed component of the growing queercore scene, with two EPs that wield a chaotic mathcore sound. It’s messy in all of the best ways, as the band rip through more rhythms within one song than you might find on entire albums. Bassist Emily Doyle utilises only the most powerful of musical equipment, carving out grooves with a novelty daisy shaped bass guitar. There’s almost something a little ‘outsider music’ about it all, as Luxury Nan Smell deconstruct what is expected and rebuild it in their own image, eschewing any concerns regarding song structure, catchy hooks, or big melodies.
Vocalist Rose Davies is an enigmatic figure; it is perhaps as if your favourite English teacher fronted your local scramz outfit, and make no mistake, this is a compliment. She is intense behind the microphone, delivering a frenzy of screamed vocals and whilst ripping through complex guitar riffs. Between tracks, that ferocity dissolves and is replaced by sharp and somewhat absurd human. She also proudly declares that last time she played Outpost, she “had a dick”, before the audience rallies with cheers behind the simple mantra of “fuck JK Rowling”. The audience are also offered “bonster”, and are invited to let Doyle pour tropical Monster into any beer left in their plastic cups.
It is all rather ridiculous, but it is also incredibly clear that these musicians are extraordinarily talented; each possessing a deep understanding of the rules, and how to pull them apart until you’re questioning why they existed in the first place. Perhaps much of the same could be said for queer identities, although as a cis straight man, I would much rather leave any deep writings on the linkage between queercore’s aggressive absurd mess and queer identities to members of the community themselves.
The crowd are receptive regardless of any weirdness – or perhaps because of it – especially when the band tear through ‘Fucked up Nasty Man’. Jabob Spink’s percussion is buoyant and infectious throughout, shepherding the complexity through moments of tangible groove. Lynskey’s B takes the opportunity to vogue at the front of the pit, which frankly is something that more concerts need to have happen.
Are Luxury Nan Smell going to be the next big thing? Unless a lot of people get very cool about a bunch of stuff very quickly, arguably not, but that doesn’t make them any less vital; quite the opposite in fact. Certainly, the band could pivot towards making accessible indie rock and I have little doubt they would do very well, but it is their wicked creativity and complete disdain for appealing to tropes that make them so brilliantly engaging. What they have managed to do, however, is change the merch industry forever; I am frankly excited for the brand new Slaughter To Prevail shower gel, even if their fans aren’t likely to use it.
Community. That was the key theme of this entire event; from veterans of the local scene, to rising musical talent within queer spaces, the night was not only plausible, but a brilliant success thanks to the work of a collection of creatives who sought to provide a moment for their wider community. Even down to the ‘NOTAFLOF’ (no one turned away for lack of funds) policy on the door, this is what grassroots music is essential for; access to the arts for any and all, on both the side of the performer and the audience.
Without access to community and a space for artistic exploration, society backslides towards fascism at breakneck pace. Grassroots music can, and should, be far more than an opportunity to shove a handful of bands at the back of a bar to make a few quid; it is an opportunity to weave something meaningful into the very fabric of a city, and to craft a community that extends far beyond just the music.
All featured photo credit belongs to El Atkinson (@elatkinson.creative).
Follow the bands on social media below:
Lynskey
Blagger
Luxury Nan Smell
VINYL FANTASY REVIEWS 
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