The Wildhearts @ O2 Academy Islington

The Wildhearts @ O2 Academy Islington (Louise Phillips)

Meryl Streek are part of the new wave of furious Irish punk, aligned with bands like Fontaines D.C. and Kneecap. The first person onstage is the drummer — the trigger man for the band’s arsenal of samples and backing tracks, or, as some might joke, the guy who presses play. Seated behind the kit, he flexes along to the ominous opening collage The Beginning, a very ’90s-style soundscape built from samples addressing the mistreatment of the working class, unaffordable housing, and exploitative landlords. During this, Meryl Streek himself, Dave Mulvaney, storms onstage and immediately begins hectoring the audience.

Meryl Streek @ O2 Academy Islington

Meryl Streek @ O2 Academy Islington (Louise Phillips)

With the stage lights blinding much of the room, they tear into Gambling Death, the drummer powering over sampled guitars and bass while Mulvaney spits defiance, declaring he won’t be part of the problem or take shit from anyone. Counting Sheep is almost physically difficult to watch through the glare, bile hurled at the crowd with relentless intensity, determined to batter its message home. The core sentiment of By One’s Hand — essentially that suicide is a devastating, pointless loss — arrives wrapped in crushing drums and ugly, abrasive riffs.

Mulvaney introduces Demon as a song about bare-knuckle fighting before spending most of it in the crowd, marching back and forth like a man on patrol, firing barbs at anyone within range. Back onstage, the street preacher returns to his central theme with Death To The Landlord, demanding a fairer world over pummelling drums and oppressive lights. They close with If This Is the Life, a bitter, raging assault on a system that protects the wealthy and grinds everyone else down. Mulvaney thanks the crowd and tells us it’s fine to love or hate Meryl Streek — just as long as we react.

The Wildhearts then amble onstage, Ginger immediately telling us he’s battling a mystery illness and may need to stop at some point for painkillers. They launch into Failure Is the Mother Of Success, Ben Marsden’s crunchy riff front and centre while the band wrestle the vocal mix into place — initially, Ginger is barely audible. Nothing Ever Changes But The Shoes finds Ginger in a particularly bitter mood, declaiming about betrayal, before Sleepaway, a true 21st-century love song, lifts the room. Random Jon Poole’s swaggering bass and Carol Hodge’s intense keyboards provide a perfect foil for Ginger’s twisted lyrics.

Ginger introduces Vernix as a technical battle between himself and Marsden, before they blast through Mazeltov Cocktail at a brutal pace. A massive singalong erupts for Kunce, Ginger shaking his dreads and barking the chorus back at us. Maintain Radio Silence is driven home by Charles Evans’ muscular drumming as Marsden and Poole exchange knowing glances through its twists and turns. Ginger then explains that the next song failed to become a hit despite Radio 1’s Chris Moyles playing it daily, before they gleefully crush Cheers.

Splitter is one Ginger admits he’s nervous about due to its complexity, but it becomes a full-on rampage. A new track, Spider Beach, from the next album — due sometime next year — follows, with Carol’s keys and Ben’s guitar seeming locked in combat. Everlone from Earth vs The Wildhearts draws the biggest cheer of the night from its opening notes and sparks the first real mosh pit, the crowd singing through its false endings with glee.

What Ginger dubs the “battle of the riffs” grows increasingly crunchy, culminating in the magnificently dark Slaughtered Authors, shaking its head at the suicides that surround us. Diagnosis is dedicated to anyone who’s struggled with mental health, offering a message of hope — that the right treatment exists if you’re able to ask for help. They close the main set with Chutzpah, a reminder of what a real mensch Ginger can be. He tells us they’ll be back until curfew, prompting almost no encore cheers.

They return regardless, launching into Geordie In Wonderland with everyone joining in. Troubadour Moon strips things back before the place goes berserk for the closing trio. I Wanna Go Where the People Go sees the audience almost drown out the band, Suckerpunch lands with its usual brute force, and a gloriously messy run through My Baby Is a Headfuck brings the night to a close — leaving most of us wanting more and eagerly awaiting the new album.

In the end, this feels like far more than a birthday party or a festive tradition. It’s a reminder of why The Wildhearts still matter: ferociously honest, musically fearless, and emotionally unfiltered, even three decades into their career. Ginger may joke about ailments and misfires, but onstage the band remain a snarling, life-affirming force — messy, loud, compassionate, and utterly alive. If this show is any indication of what lies ahead, the next chapter for The Wildhearts promises to be just as volatile, vital, and unmissable as ever.

Live review of The Wildhearts and Meryl Streek @ O2 Academy Islington, London by Simon Phillips on 11th December 2025. Photography by Louise Phillips.

The Miraculous Second Coming Of The Saints ’73-’78 At London’s Electric Ballroom

Drink The Sea @ Jazz Cafe

Drink The Sea @ Jazz Cafe (Adrian Hextall)

The band begin at the very start, opening album I with Shaking The Snakes, a slow-burning, exploratory piece that sets the tone. Duke Garwood’s hushed, cosmic vocal delivery floats above Alain Johannes’ winding guitar lines — played on what appears to be a Portuguese guitar — as Barrett Martin’s fluid drumming keeps everything tethered. Saturn Calling is the first moment the set truly lifts off, R.E.M. man Peter Buck shadowing Johannes’ lead lines while Abbey Blackwell’s bass locks into a funkier, more propulsive groove. Outside Again follows, built around striking vocal interplay between Johannes, Garwood, and Martin, its choral textures offset by subtle guitar flourishes.

For Pour Your Glow On, Johannes switches to an eight-string cigar box guitar, while Lisette’s Balinese gamelan introduces a warm, tropical shimmer. Sacred Tree shifts into something more jazz-inflected and introspective, Garwood’s clarinet becoming central to its emotional pull. The worldly influences continue on Bembe For Two, which blends Malian rhythms with a distinctly Pacific Northwest sensibility, the band visibly enjoying the freedom this music affords them.

Garwood returns to guitar for the hypnotic Sip Of The Juice, its infectious groove pulling the room deeper into the band’s orbit, highlighted by Johannes’ delicate, understated soloing. Embers is a standout moment, and the only track tonight where Peter Buck steps into the lead guitar role. Drenched in reverb and subtle gamelan textures, the song unfolds slowly as Blackwell switches to double bass and Garwood delivers a rumbling vocal performance, harmonising beautifully with Martin and Johannes.

There’s a quiet sense of unity as Where We Belong rolls out, and it’s hard to argue with the sentiment — the Jazz Café feels like the perfect setting for this music. Buck’s shimmering 12-string adds to the communal atmosphere, before Johannes introduces Paredes, Garwood’s growled vocals attempting to chant down the walls between band and audience. House Of Flowers follows with delicate instrumental touches, before The Strangest Of Seasons signals Buck’s return to his trademark Rickenbacker tones, twisting beneath Johannes’ lead guitar.

Spirit Away drifts gently through the venue, Garwood’s clarinet floating above a hypnotic polyrhythmic groove from Martin and Lisette. Midnight Starlight sees Martin step away from the drum kit to bow and play the gamelan alongside Lisette’s shaker, creating one of the night’s most atmospheric moments. Mouth Of The Whale carries the set into darker waters, Blackwell’s basslines guiding the band toward emotional depth, Garwood’s clarinet lending fluid intensity.

The first cover of the night, Mad Season’s Long Gone Day, is warmly received, with the crowd joining in as Martin leads the vocal trio. Meteors launches the room back into orbit, Johannes’ eight-string guitar cutting through Blackwell’s driving bass. Butterfly flits past in flashes of progressive free jazz, while Rose Crested Heart sees Blackwell return to electric bass, locking in with Garwood’s rich guitar work. Introduced by Johannes and Martin, Sweet As A Nut grooves effortlessly, its meaning landing clearly with the audience.

The cosmic journey continues with The Land Of Spirits, a tripped-out exploration that leads into Tuareg Asteroid, once again propelled by Martin bowing the gamelan. The biggest reaction of the night arrives with R.E.M.’s The One I Love, the Jazz Café erupting as nearly the entire room sings along. Johannes then introduces Making A Cross from the Desert Sessions, its slow-building tension setting up a powerful finale.

The set closes with Queens Of The Stone Age’s Hanging Tree, transformed into a sprawling jazz-funk epic that feels both reverent and newly alive. After two and a quarter hours, Drink The Sea leave the stage having delivered a fearless, deeply immersive performance — not just a supergroup flexing its pedigree, but a band genuinely committed to exploring new musical ground together.

Live review of Drink The Sea @ Jazz Café , London by Simon Phillips on 17th December 2025. Photography by Adrian Hextall.

Alabama 3 Inject A Hypo Full Of Love Into O2 Shepherd’s Bush Empire

The Saints @ Electric ballroom

The Saints @ Electric ballroom (Peter McDonnell)

Kicking off the night were Chimers, the Wollongong duo of Padraic Skehan and Binx, who wasted no time blasting the room awake. Their opening salvo set the tone: splintering guitar attacks, taut, piston-like drums, and a snarling urgency that felt both raw and remarkably controlled. Tracks like Generator flexed serious muscle, Padraic’s vocals tearing through the noise with visceral conviction. On Your Insane, the duo channelled that intensity into something almost ritualistic — power tamed and sharpened into a fevered, rhythmic assault.

The pair’s chemistry was magnetic, summoning Shellac-like angularity and a humidity of sound that belied their two-piece configuration. They were visibly thrilled to be touring with The Saints ’73–’78, and the crowd matched that enthusiasm — particularly when members of The Saints’ brass section joined them to swell the joyful stomp of People Listen (To The Radio). Chimers’ final track, 3AM, sealed the deal with roars of appreciation from an already buzzing room.

By the time The Saints strode onstage, the Electric Ballroom was coiled with anticipation. Swing for the Crime confirmed immediately what many had hoped: Ed Kuepper was in exceptional form. His guitar tone was rich, deliberate, almost regal in its slight reined-in pacing — a master reclaiming his own history. Mark Arm, meanwhile, delivered No Time with a commanding, brooding intensity, locking eyes with the crowd as the brass section unfurled a chaotic, free-jazz undercurrent.

Then came the detonation. This Perfect Day, stripped of brass, erupted in snarling Stooges-esque fury, with Kuepper and Harvey’s guitars interlocking like serrated gears. Lost & Found found Ivor Hay pounding through the track with astonishing drive, Peter Oxley’s bass punching each phrase into muscular definition.

The return of the brass for Memories Are Made Of This coloured the song with hallucinogenic warmth, Kuepper’s spiralling guitar shapes curling around Arm’s controlled, deliberate delivery. Private Affair showcased playful interplay between saxophones and chiming guitar lines, while Brisbane (Security City) — introduced by Kuepper with a pointed comment about its persistent lyrical relevance — felt chillingly current.

The Prisoner marked the first moment Mick Harvey shifted to keyboards, adding a bluesy, ghostly backdrop to Oxley’s creeping bass. The Chameleon slinked and snapped, delivered with a tightness that felt borderline telepathic. No, Your Product tore the place open with glorious, chaotic swagger.

A highlight came when special guest Troy Purnell bounded onstage, harmonica blazing, for a runaway-train version of Run Down. Messin’ With The Kid hit an emotional nerve, the brass turning memory into momentum, while (I’m) Stranded triggered perhaps the loudest sing-along of the night. Know Your Product, dark and rumbling, closed the main set with commanding finality.

The band returned swiftly, launching into (I’m) Misunderstood, a beautifully self-aware choice for a group once critically overlooked but now widely hailed as pioneers. All Times Through Paradise followed with a celebratory energy, Harvey and Kuepper’s guitars sparking off each other in luminous dialogue. Demolition Girl, the only encore without brass, turned into a collective yell-along — the crowd practically a fourth instrument.

Finally, Nights in Venice rolled in like a stormfront, sprawling, sweaty and euphoric. By its last crashing moments, the Ballroom was united in the thrill of witnessing something both fiercely alive and deeply rooted in punk’s ancestry.

The Saints ’73–’78 offered not nostalgia, but vindication — a reminder of why their early catalogue remains so potent, so influential, and so emotionally resonant nearly five decades on. This wasn’t a museum piece. It was a living, roaring testament to a band who helped reshape the language of punk, and who, in 2025, remain devastatingly powerful.

A mighty, razor-sharp performance — and a night that will live long in the memory of everyone who packed into the Electric Ballroom to witness it.

Live review of The Saints @ Electric Ballroom, London by Simon Phillips on 25th November 2025. Photography by Peter McDonnell.

EMF, Jesus Jones & Bis Bring Britpop Energy Back To O2 Shepherd’s Bush Empire