At the very end of last year, Mallory Knox announced their comeback. Not just any comeback, though—a comeback where Mikey Chapman would be returning as frontman, set to re-debut at this year’s Slam Dunk. Just a couple of days before that, this tour was announced, celebrating 10 years of Asymmetry, and reinforcing Mallory Knox’s full-force commitment to their return. Bear in mind, this all came about before there was even a feel for demand. Their era of Britrock is a smouldering husk of what it once was, and the years where Sam Douglas took over as frontman (could be ‘year’ singular, in fact; it wasn’t long) had been met with the nonplussed shrug that did them in in the first place. And yet, Manchester welcomes a sold out show. People are clearly still invested in Mallory Knox, as the proponents of Britrock’s function-over-fashion ethos that flew among the highest thanks to it.
And as a band who’ve never been big on unique ideas, it makes sense that they’d bring a support bill coated in a resounding flavour of vanilla. HRTLSS begin, with the usual rock / R&B / alt-metal fixture that’ll already send eyes rolling, and the lack of a solitary individual idea to wedge them in their sockets for good. This is only their second ever live show, but it’s not fledgling baby steps that are why they’re held so far back. Rather, it’s how they’re plying a sound that’s already burned out to its core without the most marginal effort to remedy that, and a presentation of it that’s just as cookie-cutter. With Mr. HRTLSS himself up front (who’s apparently on the ‘mysterious, unnamed frontman’ train with no mystique or identity obfuscation in place, so…okay), he carries the exact silhouette of your bang-average 2010s metalcore vocalist, down to the black, sleeveless T-shirt. The spoken beats are the same, too; “loving the energy, keep it up,” he says, despite there being not one moving body on the floor. Even when they bring out Mallory Knox’s guitarist James Gillett on the last couple of songs, there’s nothing added besides a fourth, marginally higher-profile presence onstage. Just…no good.
Honestly, it’s the sort of showing you could well imagine Call Me Amour replicating. Their music is also not very stimulating—more dense, dark alt-rock flecked with customary hints of neon—but the benefit of Harry Radford as an experienced performer is what’s getting them across the finish line without a chronic limp. Even if the music of the Yashin days has aged like milk on the surface of the sun, the expressive, mobile energy is evergreen. After just the second song, he’s already strolling through the crowd to get accommodated with the room, a personality value above that of a mannequin held by your average frontman of this vintage. ‘Punk’ is extremely pushing it, but at least there’s a tangible livewire there to keep an otherwise pedestrian sound going. Nevertheless, the night’s first considerable wave of excitement comes when Mikey Chapman arrives to join in on Good Day, so Call Me Amour aren’t exactly in a lapping position just yet.
Speaking of which, Chapman’s looking really good. His demeanour is notably happy and refreshed, as anyone would be to return to prior successes unbothered after more than half-a-decade’s worth of hiatus. In no small part, this is Mallory Knox returning to the status quo of no-frills, earnest alt-rock; the intro tape of We Are Never, Ever Getting Back Together is about as tongue-in-cheek as they get. And for a shtick that can sound a little thin and treacly on paper, it’s worth remembering how generally unimpeded Mallory Knox’s ascension up the Britrock ladder was, for the most part. They’re obviously loved, with the bulk of that adoration channelled into the music itself, and how it still clicks in the right environment without a second thought.
Thus, the expected ‘celebration’ of Asymmetry—i.e. a full playthrough, at a time when nostalgia tickets like that are all the rage—doesn’t quite surface in that way. Those songs fill the most space, but it’s a greatest hits set by any other name, which isn’t an objectionable thing for anyone. There are real hits to be found all across this catalogue with more uses of the word ‘darling’ than anyone else’s, and with the intent of a momentous return, Mallory Knox clearly aren’t looking to skimp. Beggars drops as just the fourth song; Sugar as the fifth. The self-titled album is the only chapter unaccounted for, but that’s not such a big deal. The concentration of anthems comes thick and fast enough as it is, with not a hair out of place to really hammer home how doggedly committed Mallory Knox are. It’s the showcase of their skills with ballads that takes wing the highest, and arguably set them apart the most from their peers in the first place. The pairing of When Are We Waking Up? and Heart & Desire is crystalline and towering, and later gets reinforced by an equally strong Shout At The Moon and Dare You. Other than Oceans and the heavier, tenser feel of a primordial Mallory Knox (and the shock of giddiness at how, after all this time and mainstream movement, it’s not a portion of themselves they’ve excised), it’s where they’re undoubtedly at their best.
Not like there’s a point where they put a foot wrong, mind. They’ve clearly tailored things to where the music itself takes precedent, and thus mitigating the chances of dips or inconsistencies. It’s likely why the stage production is so unobtrusive—plumes of smoke come up at various intervals, and the big ‘MK’ lights at either side of the stage aren’t bright enough (or, indeed, on enough) to be too distracting. That leaves Mallory Knox themselves to shoulder the weight, a task that they’re more than equipped to handle. A stampeding Ghost In The Mirror kicks things off with nary a dud or blank to be found. When they reach She Took Him To The Lake—already among the more daring and imposing cuts of this era of alt-rock—it’s still basically in a class of its own.
To cap all of that off, the humbleness that’s always been characteristic of Mallory Knox has never gone away. It’s probably there even more now, just from how circumstances have fallen and landed resolutely in their favour. With the closing notes of Lighthouse ringing out, Chapman mouths a little “wow” amid the rapturous reaction that’s clearly bringing his own emotions out. You’re never going to get the flashiest capital-S show from Mallory Knox, but they’re not a band designed for that. Back in the day, they were among the crowd that made the life of a successful, well-moving rock band seem achievable, and keeping a firm distance away from the rockstar bullshit in the process. As trite as Chapman’s asides about chasing passions to the twinkling intro of Dare You can be, it’s entirely on-brand. That’s true of Mallory Knox as a whole tonight, picking right back up from what worked, and proceeding to show how it still can. The comeback is justified, and the gratitude—from both fans and band—is palpable.
Word by Luke Nuttall
