Some gigs feel significant before they even begin. The return of &U&I, after nearly a decade off the radar, was one of them. Muthers Studio in Digbeth was already heaving long before the trio stepped onstage, the room buzzing with the kind of charged anticipation reserved for bands whose absence has only intensified their impact.
Cold Comfort, a lone performer with a laptop, eased the room into the night as people filed into the venue and found their places. It’s interesting to see what one man and a laptop can do.
Offices followed with a tight, controlled burst of post-punk anxiety. Their set leaned into sharp edges and uneasy grooves, angular guitars, clipped rhythms and vocals that swung from restraint to release. In the packed confines of Muthers’ rehearsal-space-turned-venue, their sound felt perfectly claustrophobic, drawing the crowd forward and priming them for the heaviness to come.
Death Cult Electric arrived with the subtlety of a sledgehammer. Their performance was a barrage of distortion, feedback and sardonic charisma. The highlight was their track Alligators, which instantly had the crowd shouting along to every whoo ooh, turning the room into a chaotic, joyful chorus. They filled the venue with a wall of sound that was equal parts suffocating and exhilarating. It was messy, loud and completely magnetic, a deliberate sonic assault that pushed the night into its chaotic midpoint. By the time they left the stage, the crowd was buzzing, breathless and warmed up in all the wrong and right ways.
Then came the return everyone was waiting for.
When &U&I walked onstage, they didn’t waste a second on ceremony. No build-up, no preamble. Just a sudden, explosive launch into a set that made the gap between shows feel like a myth. The years apart evaporated instantly. What followed was a masterclass in math rock precision fused with the reckless energy of a band rediscovering its own heartbeat.
Wiz’s drumming was relentlessly sharp, shifting between erratic bursts and locked-in grooves with the instinctive accuracy that defines &U&I’s sound. Tom’s guitar work cut jagged paths through each song, tangled riffs, sudden stops, soaring melodic lines, while his vocals moved from frantic yelps to sweeping melodies without ever losing control. Rich’s bass tone anchored everything, thick and kinetic, weaving complexity beneath the chaos.
The crowd reacted with the kind of enthusiasm usually reserved for cult favourites, and &U&I have clearly earned that status. Bodies pressed forward, heads snapped in time to the off-kilter rhythms and every jagged transition landed with impact. The atmosphere was electric: sweaty, loud, a little unhinged. It felt less like a reunion gig and more like the continuation of something that had paused mid-sentence.
What made the set so powerful wasn’t just the precision of the musicianship, although that was undeniable. It was the joy behind it. You could see it in the grins between the members, the shared glances during impossible tempo changes, the laughter after a particularly chaotic breakdown. This was three musicians slipping back into an old shape that still fits perfectly.
The band moved across eras of their catalogue, blending their more complex early material with the punchier, melodic force of their later work. Every song landed with weight and intent. Even in the most labyrinthine sections, they performed with a looseness that reminded everyone that this band never wrote to impress, they wrote to feel.
By the time &U&I closed their set, the room felt transformed. Not nostalgic, not sentimental, alive. This didn’t feel like a farewell lap or a one-night curiosity. It felt like a spark reigniting, a reminder of what made &U&I so compelling in the first place: the volatility, the craft, the unpredictable emotion layered beneath every time signature shift.
They walked offstage to cheers that sounded less like applause and more like a challenge: don’t disappear again. If tonight was their warm-up, their next chapter is going to hit even harder.
And after a performance like this, one thing is clear: &U&I aren’t just back, they are needed.
&U&I, 2025-11-15 @ Muthers Studio, Digbeth, Birmingham
Live review & photography by Henry Finnegan




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