On a night where the UK has just been put under severe weather warnings for heavy winds, you’d think there might be a bit more apprehension about going out than there is. The truth is, Spanish Love Songs seem to take precedence, with a sold-out show on what, by all accounts, has been an incredibly successful tour for them. And it’s great to see something like that play out, even under the thumb of the elements. Enough people have banged on about how they’re the alt-punk second coming, and not erroneously when their stranglehold on the scene hasn’t been surpassed since The Menzingers’ After The Party over half a decade ago. Maybe even more so, given how Spanish Love Songs’ reverberations have permeated outside that space, and while nowhere near as big yet (the 2,000-capacity District is very much a venue for those still on the up), that can be seen coming from a mile away.
Less auspicious right now, however, are openers SUDS, though to be fair, they’re in a much different weight class. Theirs is indie-punk with the exact type of tunefulness that the UK wave has delivering in droves, right down to the sweeter vocal tone which, after any exposure to this scene at all, you will be familiar with. To be fair, they are good at it; a slew of snappy tunes can do a lot to endear them, even without a worn identity of their own right now. There’s also a real gratitude about these being the biggest shows they’ve ever played, and as is often the norm with acts of their stripe, that humbleness and approachability makes up a not-insignificant portion of the appeal. Chalk SUDS up to another case of affability trumping ingenuity by a rather handy amount, but it also kind of working for them.
Heart Attack Man, on the other hand, find themselves benefiting greatly from a number of factors. Being closer to the wavelength of tonight’s headliners is a good start; furthermore, they just seem to ramp everything up that crucial notch more. The energy they bring is noteworthy from the start, rolled into a rough-and-tumble, old-school pop-punk shell, and topped off by the slightest twinge of hardcore in how frontman Eric Egan presents himself. They’ve clearly got the crowd on their side, too, through a setlist that is impressively stacked in terms of melodic value. Freak Of Nature cuts that might not have connected on impact have only flourished more and more live, as C4 and the album’s title track sound pretty great beefed up by surroundings ideal for a no-frills punk band making tremendous use of some very limited space. Add on a lot of personality—their celebration of the Sunday roast goes down especially well—and Heart Attack Man’s presence as a general all-rounder seems pretty set. They certainly strike a chord when bigging up the UK’s musical heritage, to which, about their own home Cleveland, “all we’ve got is MGK, which…yikes…” No notes; two thumbs up.
What’s refreshing about all of it, though, is how receptive the general atmosphere seems to be. There’s definitely an uptick in buzz when Spanish Love Songs take to the stage, but it’s not a cavernous gulf like so many headliners will have placed between them and their openers. It’s the DIY ethos at play, inevitably, where a rising tide will lift all ships, from the perspective of both those on the stage and off it. That said, Spanish Love Songs can sometimes feel like a different breed from the rest. With how hard they’ll routinely hit, and how much humanistic weight will be spilling from the seams of their work, they’re hitting heights way further ahead. The Killers’ Human is their walk-on music, a strong choice to represent both the synth-heavy swerve the band have adopted recently, and the universal enormity that’s at play. With an opening combo of Lifers, Losers, Clean-Up Crew and Self-Destruction (As A Sensible Career Choice)…need we elaborate?
There is more to say, of course, mostly in the form of superlatives about how Spanish Love Songs couldn’t miss if their lives depended on it. Even on Here You Are with Dylan Slocum’s evident frustration about technical issues with his pedalboard, you’d struggle to pick up on much detriment. When everything is going right, the swell and the surge of it all coalescing is palpable. It’s amazing how well-integrated new material is with old, to where the discrepancy in style is barely even noticeable. That heartland-rock sweep among an alt-punk tautness has lodged its way into nearly every aspect now, as the guitars and bass and synths crest and move with such power and fluidity. The one-two of Pendulum and I’m Gonna Miss Everything is the pinnacle of showcasing where that grandeur extends; Spanish Love Songs have clearly transcended the stage they’re cramped onto, in sonic profile alone.
Old songs do rear up, but they’re sprinkled in as reminders of the melodic gold that’s always been such a key component of this band’s DNA. There’s a mid-set double-hit of The Boy Considers His Haircut and Beer & NyQuil (Hold It Together), whose footprint might not be as large as what’s succeeded it, but provide evidence for the genesis of something special that was always there. And practically everything they’ll pull from Brave Faces, Everyone and No Joy applies to that; it’s frankly ridiculous how each song seems to erupt just as iridescently as the last, with nary a lull to be found. Further to that, Slocum is clearly running on overdrive throughout, with the sweat and the exertion that’s so integral to the core of these songs, contrasting with his jocular gratitude for simply being here. When they’re still doling out the hits right up to the sets dying moments (Haunted isn’t the closer, but would utterly soar as a set climax), the feeling is absolutely mutual.
Words by Luke Nuttall
Photos by Faye Roberts (Instagram)
