They just don’t stop, do they? Dead Pony’s crusade throughout 2024 has seem honoured among the year’s graduating alt-rock class, in no small part because of just how inescapable they’ve been. That was especially true during festival season, where you’d barely make it a weekend in the UK’s fields without having Scotland’s most precocious risers popping up. All of that’s been in aid of a profile that’s been masterfully cultivated, as a tremendous debut IGNORE THIS and a live reputation for fizzing and sparking off in all the right places really have done wonders for them. They’re yet to properly break beyond the scene, but that’s only a matter of time away. If anything, a small-venue tour to usher in another year of Dead Pony delights is the perfect stepping stone. The room is crammed by the time they hit their full stride anyway, already not too surprising a sight.
A pair of fellow Glaswegian noisemakers join them in tow, with Soapbox easily making the most immediate waves. How could they not when the primary sight they leave is frontman Tom Rowan, a gigantic man in his too-small T-shirt, gym shorts and sunglasses shimmying away to distinctly Scottish-flavoured post-punk? Clearly, they’re playing to audition for a seat at the table among your Soft Plays, your Kid Kapichis et al, and they aren’t lacking the technique for it. The sound is meaty and throbbing and danceable, or in the case of Private Public Transport, teetering and lurching under its own mass. Furthermore, the sardonic, man-on-the-street brand of humour and commentary is an easy shortcut welcomed by the style (“£8 for a fucking lager in the O2—heads have been chopped off for less.”) Get them on the right bill or a cannily placed 2000trees slot, and Soapbox’s place among the UK punk spearhead could be all but secured.
Meanwhile, Gallus’ propensity for smacking you upside the head is less forceful, but not by a great deal. In a set built from a lot of new songs and self-deprecating attitude to go with it, their consistency in rolling forward is ultimately what seals it for them. Frontman Barry Dolan perches himself at the head of stage crammed with noisemakers and the jumpy post-hardcore and post-punk they forge, convulsing along with an undeniably punk energy brought to bat. He’s the only performer on tonight’s bill who’ll get in the crowd, if that says anything more. And although this is a more churning, intricately crafted sound, the highs do show up. Eye To Eye has a chorus lifted directly from Scottish alt-rock’s playbook and soars all the more for it, and Just Desserts has this taut, twanging stomp that sees Gallus at their most propulsive, without question. The permeating air of underrated talent and creativity that follows a lot of dynamic alt-rock has affixed itself here in earnest; it’d be nice if some more eyes could land on Gallus from it.
That being said, Dolan’s biggest moment comes a lot later in the night, when he and Soapbox’s Rowan return to assist Dead Pony in a cover of Limp Bizkit’s Break Stuff. Parsed through three varying layers of Scottish brogues, it’s the kind of big, fun, walloping moment that only a band so confident in their abilities can instigate this well. It also seems to be the replacement for the Smells Like Teen Spirit snippet that made its way into Dead Pony’s festival repertoire this summer, swapping out on rock club staple for another to fully reinforce which lane they’re in. If there’s an endgame for Dead Pony, this feels the clearest—a catalogue of all-encompassing, all-purpose rock hits where size matters most. They’re basically there already if the opening two-hander of IGNORE THIS and MK Nothing is anything to go by. These are songs that have been primed for months on end the cudgel and clobber with total abandon.
You also note how much the months-long workout they’ve received has done for them. Although Dead Pony have never been particularly slack, now, they’re right in the pocket of what’s proven to work for them. Anna Shields brings in all the bits of choreography that have become something of a calling card for her—the kung-fu poses that would leave MK Nothing feeling incomplete without them, for instance—with typically excellent energy. She admits to being under the weather (which would leave the next night’s show in Leeds to be postponed until the new year), but there’s no sizable knock here. She’s very much the superstar of this band through and through, as a piercing, hard-edged voice plays through explicit femininity and unbridled rock power. For rock this otherwise uncomplicated, the livewire crackle is definitely appreciated, and definitely used to potential here. It’s the issue of dynamism that can stump many a likeminded band, whereas Dead Pony are complete naturals at it.
Again, it’s the outcome of getting to stretch their legs so much this year, while also knowing the right tweaks to make to shift the spotlight onto themselves. In performance and, really, set construction, there isn’t a whole lot different than what Dead Pony nailed months ago, but what is new makes all the difference. Another one-two of Bad Girlfriend and X-Rated is great, if only for the reassurance that a pair of bangers as tight as these hasn’t been omitted from the live catalogue entirely. (Also, plucking out crowd members to dance onstage to the former is a total joy to behold.) Then there’s the new song Everything Burns, heralded by a clip from The Dark Knight to turn the mood right down, and the band’s heaviest, buzziest work yet to bring the flames back up. It’s not had long enough to sit to be a real highlight, but it offers a great feel of how flexible Dead Pony’s formula can be, where it’s not just a dense, stagnant series of noise-blocks.
If that were the case, the strides they’ve taken wouldn’t feel nearly as earned as they do. In terms of size, The Deaf Institute does feel a bit conservative when they’ve proven their mettle on main stages and through key support slots. Maybe it’s the reticence to outgrow this level just yet; maybe it’s the send-off to the ‘upcoming’ tag that’ll be sloughed off very soon. Either way, Dead Pony being more than capable at greatness is a known truth by now. For just under an hour, all signs point to a band with strength to burn and little else to say otherwise. It’s the consolidation of every good fortune that 2024 has brought, with not a single one of them being wasted. Don’t expect anything different going into 2025, either; chances are, Dead Pony don’t know how to do this differently.
Words by Luke Nuttall
