Tonight is The Wildhearts’ traditional December London show, a dual celebration of Christmas and Ginger Wildheart’s birthday — he turns 61 on 17th December. This year the festivities take place at North London’s O2 Academy Islington, with Meryl Streek as the sole support act.
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.
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.
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