There’s probably a reason that, after every re-up or innovation, Sound City goes back to how it was. Last year, centralised in Liverpool’s Mountford Hall and a single core lineup, it was more accessible, but maybe outside of the spirit of this festival. The ever-present image of Sound City is one of discovery, scouting out the tiny venues with likeminded explorers to find bands and artists literally just getting their start. It was nice to have it streamlined last time, but it was also an entirely different experience.
The idea of the showcase is clearly the bread and butter of Sound City. It’s why, outside of the couple of bigger venues and designated ‘main stage’, there aren’t headliners in the traditional sense. Honestly, it’s as close to everyone being on equal footing as your likely to get; it’s hard to assert you’re ’better’ than anyone else in the compared environments of a café and a pub’s basement. And with a lot of the acts being brand new with next to no exposure, you do get swept up in an anything-can-happen mindset. That said, there’s also the case of tickets needing to be shifted, which means things can’t go too off script. Oddities can be found, but a lineup heavy on the indie is what you’re likely to find most of the time. Much of what’s available is represented by an act like Coal Mob—five upstarts crammed onto a stage that can just about house them, playing post-punk-flavoured indie-rock with an eagerness that’ll hopefully take them far.
You could maybe say it was more of an outright issue last time, though, when there was no greater variety to supplement a wave of acts that—if we’re being honest—can be functionally identical. This time, the range is definitely more noticeable, with a spread of—ugh…—‘proper’ rock music, pleasantly gracious in how the set times fall. Sadly, it’s Red Coven who are far and away the ones bringing up the rear of that crop. They play the classic rock fundamentals with conviction, but also give off the impression of a band who’ve sprouted literally this minute. A guitar that’s barely audible only compounds the Local Band Syndrome they’re chronically afflicted by. Not so for Yee Loi, though, for whom this is actually their first ever show, and yet have an ear for pop-punk scruff that’s already impressively fully-formed. When the natural early nerves are shed with time, these could really go some distance; they’re already precocious enough for it.
As for Britrock that’s already beginning to get its foot in the door, ARXX bring an immensely fun, likable demeanour to riff-rock that’s stretched extremely taut and loaded with pop flourish. As for VENUS GRRRLS, they’ve got a more explicitly big-time finish to them already, for what would feel right at home among certain waves of punk right now. It’s brooding and a bit gothic at times with considerable dense, dark edges, to where even an obnoxious group of lads determined to be as loud as possible during every quiet moment can’t sink this. There’s good stuff from Interlaker, too, the new vehicle for ex-Lonely The Brave frontman David Jakes and Arcane Roots drummer Jack Wrench, effectively serving as the spiritual successor to the former’s tenure with his old band. Burly, churning alt-rock with obvious emotional heft is the default state for Jakes (and Wrench as well, actually), but they’ve still got it in spades.
Leaving the greatest impression of all, though, are Home Counties, packing the Kazimier Stockroom on their debut album’s release weekend to illustrate the exact sort of flair that post-punk needs right now. As the six of them pack shoulder-to-shoulder onstage, doling out kinetic dance-punk basslines and synth stings with unerring fixations on pinprick sharpness, they’ve channelled the energy of players whose name is now properly out there, and run for miles with it. That’s what this side of Sound City is all about—newcomers and risers getting themselves out there, and hopefully striking enough of a chord to see some tangible returns. It’s always good to see how full a lot of these smaller showings are, as if people recognise how much there is to be discovered, outside of singular, clearly-designated highlights.
Speaking of which…
You’d be forgiven that a perfunctory branding of ‘afternoon headliners’ meant something with Red Rum Club. Theirs is a classic case of the unending symbiosis between Liverpool scenes and their beneficiaries—a packed crowd ready to give a hero’s welcome, and a band fresh off a hometown arena headliner making an unquestionable step down in size to give back. Now, they’re in Grand Central Hall, former site of goth watering hole Quiggins turned into an impressively lavish venue in its own right. And with their more refined, sophisticated take on your usual Scouse-indie fare, Red Rum Club do fit in. Admittedly it’s not the incredible showing any and all reactions would have you believe. Sure, Joe Corby’s trumpet makes a clear difference in producing dusty, western clops or a blue-eyed swing, but it all becomes a little much of a muchness before long. At the same time, it’s hard to come down too hard on what’s kind of a unique sound for the environment, and one that, when the crashes and gallops are amplified by sweltering brass as a point of immediate focus, can be a lot of fun when it hits the right angle. Clearly everyone here thinks so, too. It’s a textbook local crowd, taking the rowdiness and receptiveness of those watching their own hit it big, and mixing it with the cider-drunk persuasion of middle-aged punters indulging in a bit of live music that’s friendly to the oldies, but cool enough to stand on its own. That just says it all, really, doesn’t it?
That older contingent is quite a prominent factor at Sound City; it always has been, actually. Maybe it’s the fact that smaller spaces and a heavy smattering of indie and singer-songwriter risers appeals to an older music fan more cognisant of discovery. Perhaps, then, that’s why Good Neighbours and a profile based almost entirely on online virality draw a bit of a sparser crowd presence. That’s a shame when, of all the acts on this bill looking to break it big, these are the ones for whom it’s the most believable. In the right setting, anyway; the big, whooping melodies and indie-pop gloss are perfect fodder for the big festivals they’ll inevitably be treading the boards at through the summer. Coupled with a DIY feel to how they’ll switch around their instruments, and a shabby, mismatched Gen Z aesthetic, and there’s undoubtedly something to be tapped into here. Even when the songs are all basically unknown (save for Home, where, yeah, it’s quite obvious where its smashiness comes from), there’s a likability all over to cover the cracks. Much, much greater things surely beckon.
Unfortunately, some technical issues find Deco at a disadvantage that’s a bit incredible. As a band for whom the maximalist gloss of ‘80s pop is their raison d’être (and with their debut album on the horizon that’ll inevitably hammer it home), their set being shorn down to about 20 minutes can be a tough outcome. Still, as clear fan favourites and one of the few returners from last year’s Sound City, it’s not like there are doubts here. They’re still bold and exuberant as ever; maybe even more so, with even their previously iffy cover of Bittersweet Symphony sounding refreshed. With a big, buoyant synthpop sound, Max Kendall giving every ounce of his energy as a frontman, and Lucy Kendall’s saxophone as the ever-perfect accompaniment, Deco appear to be rushing headlong into the territory of a genuinely terrific pop band in every sense. New song Forever only seals it—another sharp, pound hit-to-be in which any notion of a dud in this band’s catalogue is provably quashed.
A last minute showing from the people’s champs of indie-pop The Lottery Winners lays down everything they’re great at—big songs, big energy, and a big photo gallery to show off it all.
With just a brief scan down the rest of today’s bill—certainly the acts on the bigger end—you can tell from the jump that Caity Baser seems misplaced as a headliner. Actually being in the room that’s about a third full, and pretty spottily so, it only settles it. As a much younger artist deep in mainstream pop atop a wall of indie with a far wider demographical penetration, it’s not the most auspicious of bookings for right now. There’s cause for this to be a real shitshow, in fact, when multiple mics refuse to work throughout the first song, leaving Baser’s antics and the small crowd’s dedication to see it through. It goes without saying that a lesser artist could’ve crumbled there and then. The fact that Baser doesn’t speaks pretty highly of what she’s capable of. She can roll with the punches with the best of them, keeping going with a demeanour that seems unfazed by a crowd certainly unfitting of a star currently rocketing up the mainstream ranks.
In a way, she does feel like a different breed of pop star than the 2020s would often produce. Throw things back a couple of decades and that’s where she’d feel more at home, in her kicks and over-the-top, occasionally cartoonish profile. She is, under no definition of the word, cool, but there also isn’t a single other artist in her bracket who’d embrace that as much as Baser does. It’s why she’ll pull from rockabilly or plastic ‘50s pop with no sense of irony, or parlay her animated profile into interpolations of ABBA’s Dancing Queen and Queen’s Another One Bites The Dust. Maybe her own work isn’t the catchiest in the current pop canon, but you’d find few struggling to hold in all the personality of their performer as much as these. All eyes are on Baser in a clear demonstration of freewheeling fun, despite the odds. Pop as a whole could do with more like her.
Words by Luke Nuttall
Photos by Faye Roberts (Instagram)
