LIVE REVIEW: RedHook – Deaf Institute, Manchester – 27/04/2025

As RedHook’s UK tour arrives in Manchester, it’s also the day of the Manchester Marathon. As soon as you leave Oxford Road Station and turn onto the main road, you can clearly tell—bins are overflowing; rubbish is strewn everywhere; people are spilling out of pubs or, in some cases, just lying in the road. It isn’t the most pleasant sight to greet RedHook on their debut headliner in the city, and their fourth overall outside of their native Australia. Still, there’ll be chances to see a prettier version. The fact they’ve sold out the Deaf Institute would imply a bigger return, ideally in a bigger, more lavish environment. It would probably suit them better, as a band who’ve devised the formula for fusing pop-rock and alt-metal with much greater odds of success.

It isn’t easy, either, as tonight’s opener Eville proceed to show wholeheartedly. They’ve aligned themselves with a wave of ‘brat-metal’—so much so that it’s the only piece of notable branding their merch carries—but it’s not like they engender much of what that actually means. When you perceive what ‘brat-metal’ might mean, you don’t get the image of flat, by-the-numbers alt-metal with a singer that has no effective brattiness to her. Half the time, Eva Sheldrake barely looks like she wants to be here, staunch and mannequin-like without a hint of fluidity. When we do get a couple of struts and hair flips—y’know, the epitome of what brat-metal should be—none of it looks the least bit natural or comfortable for her. At least the wall of death on Get With Me that about four people get involved with is kinda funny to watch. There’s more of a positive reaction there than anything else Eville can offer.

Defences, thankfully, come around far more capably. Even before they set foot on stage, their touches of visual flair are appreciated—flowers and vines wrapped around the keyboard stand and candleholders on each side of the drum kit, all of which is a nice complement to the birds and plants on the wallpaper. They also just sound like a much better band. With as sweeping as their alt-metal is (with a lot of retained from on record), they have no business being in a venue as compact as this; they could easily level up all on their own. And sure, it isn’t unnoticed how deeply embedded in a sameness their material is—it’s all the more conspicuous with how long their set feels—but it can’t be said that they aren’t good at their one trick. When there’s a singer like Cherry Duesbury at the helm with ‘powerhouse’ written all over her, the floor of quality is significant. Worse bands have achieved way less than this with more at their disposal.

Truth be told, though, everyone’s just playing for second place. It becomes apparent within mere moments of bomb.com, an aptly-named opener for RedHook to make their explosive entrance. There’s not a chance of them leaving here without fully occupying the headspace of everyone in attendance, even if that means pulling out as many stops as they can. They’re surprisingly nimble in that regard of showmanship for such a small show. Obviously there won’t be scorching pyro displays, but a bubble machine on Hot Tub gets the job done. That’s not to mention how they’re already bringing in costume changes, where Emmy Mack’s wardrobe selections encompass a puffer jacket and shades for that street-metal aesthetic, to an orange jumpsuit on Pyromaniac (RedHook branded, of course), to more standard hot-girl attire everywhere else. She also has a hand puppet on Pyromaniac; not too sure why, but hey, it’s something else!

Throughout, it can’t be impressed upon enough how much of a star Mack already is. She’s unquestionably the lifeblood of this band, just through simple presence alone. It’s another case where there’s so much to suggest a band ready to break micro-venue containment. Not only is Mack is fantastically raw singer (excluding the chunks taken out by an occasionally wonky mix), she can wrench out a hell of a scream, and even a believable uncanniness that gives the mania of a song like HEXXX yet another dimension. Add on how game she is for convulsing and throwing herself to the ground when needed on Off With Your Head, and she feels like the kind of performer who’d rip these walls down herself if it’d mean a better show.

There’s also the case of absolute, unquestionable synergy between Mack and her bandmates that solidifies how ready RedHook are for more. They’re already embracing the tightness of pop-rock’s giga-stars, albeit in a way that suits their interests. Namely, they pride a metallic edge that’s so well realised, without any kind of strain or stretch. Special mention should go to bassist Ned Jankovic there, for the genuine metaller sihouette he cuts on HEXXX and Kamikaze that’s impressively intense for a band still nominally in pop-rock. Not that that isn’t entirely fluid; RedHook actually lean on the crunch far more than anything else. For the balance of heaviness and poppiness, the whole thing is right on the money, barely a hiccup in sight. Even the return of Eva Sheldrake on HEXXX seems to turn to the right settings, given how it’s the most switched-on she’s seemed all night.

But that’s a good way to intuit what RedHook are all about—they’re a very charged act. It’s true even at their absolute lightest; it never gets more poppy than Soju, but Craig Wilkinson swaps out his guitar for a saxophone and the blast of heat that naturally brings. It’s Jabberwocky that carries the most of that charge, though, a song about Mack’s own sexual assault that has her singing the first verse and chorus from the bar, and by the end, she can barely keep it together at the 200-odd people singing it right back at her. It’s the moment where RedHook’s growth has the most weight, swollen from gratitude at how their many, many efforts are paying off, even at such an early leg. Make no mistake—RedHook will not be in venues this small for much longer. In their own marathon, their lead is getting further and further.

Words by Luke Nuttall