London’s Islington Assembly Hall was drenched in both rain and anticipation on a stormy November evening that felt tailor-made for the gothic grandeur and theatrical energy that would unfold inside. Outside, a devoted queue wrapped around the venue in dripping corpse paint and eyeliner — Wednesday 13 die-hards shoulder to shoulder with SoapGirls loyalists and the rising legion of fans donning The Nocturnal Affair merch. It looked less like a line and more like the start of a dark carnival, with umbrellas flicking open under flickering streetlights and laughter echoing down Upper Street. The atmosphere buzzed with a sense that something special — maybe even transformative — was about to happen.
The SoapGirls @ Islington Assembly Hall
The Nocturnal Affair: From Haze to Headliner Potential
Las Vegas’ own The Nocturnal Affair took the stage to a crowd that was both eager and ready. The band’s brand of cinematic dark rock immediately set a tone that felt grander than their billing as openers might suggest. Frontman Brendan Shane walked onstage with quiet confidence — a presence that commanded without demanding.
Their set began amid a small but frustrating technical issue: a completely dead microphone. Many bands might crumble under such bad luck, but Shane used the moment as a chance to connect. Through gesture, eye contact, and charisma alone, he held the audience’s attention. It was almost theatrical — a silent prologue that revealed how much command he has as a performer. When the mic finally sparked to life, the eruption of sound was cathartic.
From there, the band launched into a set that shimmered between shadow and light. Dru Lappin’s dual guitar work intertwined melodies with impressive fluidity, his movement on stage both graceful and feral, while Michael James’s basslines pulsed beneath with steady menace. At the back, Kyle Cunningham’s drumming was a performance all on its own — powerful, precise, and deeply emotive. Every hit seemed to punctuate not just rhythm, but feeling.
The highlight of their set — and possibly the night — came in the form of their reimagined cover of Haddaway’s dance anthem What Is Love. What could easily have been a novelty moment instead became an explosion of communal energy. The band transformed the Eurodance hit into a brooding, anthemic confession that had the crowd bouncing, shouting, and singing as one. Fans who had arrived skeptical were now all in, swept up in a shared catharsis that blurred the line between performer and audience.
By the end of their set, The Nocturnal Affair had done more than warm up the stage — they’d claimed it. Their growth as a band was undeniable. Having seen them before, it’s clear how much more confident, focused, and self-assured they’ve become. They no longer feel like a support act finding their feet. They feel like a band stepping into their era — a group destined for festival stages and late-night headlines. And as the last notes faded and the lights dimmed, there was no question: The Nocturnal Affair are no longer just warming up the room — they’re owning it. And those rooms are only going to get bigger.
The SoapGirls: Controlled Chaos and Conflicted Reactions
If The Nocturnal Affair offered shadowed beauty and emotional weight, The SoapGirls arrived like a glitter bomb detonated in the middle of a cathedral. From the moment the South African sisters took the stage, dressed in neon-slashed, boundary-pushing outfits that looked somewhere between early Lady Gaga and a punk apocalypse, they turned the energy inside out.
Musically, The SoapGirls are unpredictable — a rollercoaster of sound that veers from sweet indie-pop harmonies to jagged punk breakdowns, sometimes within the same song. The blend of melodic shimmer and distorted chaos is disorienting but deliberate. And when one of the sisters unleashes a deep, guttural growl straight out of the metal underground, it’s a reminder that beneath the glitter lies grit and fury.
Their set wasn’t just performance — it was provocation. Between songs, they broke from music into raw monologues, addressing immigration struggles, censorship, and their frustration at the bureaucratic hurdles that nearly kept them out of the UK. Their delivery was impassioned and unfiltered, a mix of anger and humour, met with cheers from their most devoted fans at the barrier.
For those already converted to The SoapGirls’ cause, it was cathartic and empowering. They shouted back lyrics, fists raised, part of a community that thrives on the band’s refusal to conform. But for others in the crowd — especially those there for The Nocturnal Affair’s cinematic melancholy or Wednesday 13’s horror-punk swagger — the reaction was more complex.
Some watched with curiosity. Others seemed unsure whether they were being confronted, entertained, or invited to laugh along. The SoapGirls thrive in that uncertainty. They blur lines between sincerity and satire, rebellion and performance art. And whether or not everyone understood the message, everyone felt it.
By the end of their set, the energy in the room was split — admiration, confusion, and fascination all swirling together. But one thing was certain: The SoapGirls are unforgettable. Love them or not, they leave no one indifferent.
A Night of Duality and Discovery
The night at Islington Assembly Hall wasn’t just a lineup — it was a study in contrasts. The brooding, emotional control of The Nocturnal Affair collided beautifully with the unrestrained chaos of The SoapGirls, each band offering a different definition of authenticity. One found power in precision and atmosphere; the other in rebellion and disruption.
As fans spilled out into the wet London streets, drenched yet exhilarated, it was hard not to feel like something bigger was brewing. The Nocturnal Affair had proven themselves a force ready for the next level, while The SoapGirls reminded everyone that art isn’t meant to be comfortable — it’s meant to challenge, provoke, and stick with you long after the amps fall silent. Two worlds. Two energies. One unforgettable night.
Live review of The Nocturnal Affair andThe SoapGirls @ Islington Assembly Hall, London, by Henry Finnegan on 4th November 2025. Instagram: @finneganfoto | Facebook: @finneganfoto
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