“Spending your Saturday night at the emo function,” says Arm’s Length frontman Allen Steinberg of tonight’s crowd, who you’d wager would rather be nowhere else. Rarely do emo shows this stacked with ready-to-blow talent come around, taking root in the appropriately basement-like climes of Manchester’s Club Academy. Oh, and let’s not forget our headliners, who released There’s A Whole World Out There last year, where it was soundly declared as a top-end example of its genre from the jump. If emo is your bag, this’ll likely be as good at 2026 gets, and the sold-out status of this show would suggest resounding agreement.
Right from the beginning, there’s little trepidation to be had. Shoreline were here around a year ago opening for Four Year Strong, and have clearly grown as performers from what was still solid back then. Needles is the perfect earworm to start on, and frontman Hansel Seung’s kicks and clenched punk jaw before it even gets going shows some real heat in the tank already. The well-roundedness of Shoreline really has grown impressively, between an ear for pop-punk hooks that newer song Sweet Spot indicates has only gotten sharper, and the dedication for creating safe spaces at shows like this that’s iterated before Seoul. With a new album out next month, there’s no reason that Shoreline’s moment isn’t right around the corner.
For Ben Quad, meanwhile, they seem to be right in the midst of theirs. Wisher was a wonderful surprise at the tail end of 2025, packing the likes of Painless and Very Big In Sheboygan that sit among the choruses of the night so far. Live, their ace in the hole is guitarist Edgar Viveros, a math-rock shredder in the zone at all times, with the sort of single-minded energy that raises him head-and-shoulders above his compatriots. Not that they’re bad at all, of course; there’s such a blistering willingness to perform that a cable is kicked out of place during the intro of It’s Just A Title and the sound cuts completely. At the same time, a genial goofiness like that is well in character for those who’ll use Super Mario 64’s Dire, Dire Docks as the breath-catcher before their closer Blood For The Blood God. The other end of proceedings contains some ragged yet totally congruent screams, and a vibe through the double-time drums and Midwest emo guitars of You’re Part Of It that’s almost akin to Touché Amoré. Impressive stuff, through and through.
By comparison to all that’s come before, Koyo seem a bit of a weak link, though that sounds much harsher than it actually is. It’s mainly through Joey Chiaramonte’s vocals being so drowned out, a consequence of a meatier, more forceful sound that a live environment like this can be a little testy towards. Still, that instrumental presence is hard to fault. Rock-hard punk that plainly wears its brotherhood with hardcore is served up by the spoonful, to where the night’s first crowd-surfer is certainly justified. And even if Koyo have less emo-pop sheen than their tourmates (i.e. none), having a proper pop-punk rager like Mile A Minute in their pocket achieves a lot on its own.
Surprisingly enough, though, the night’s first prickle of contention comes just as the headliners arrive. It’s nothing to do with Arm’s Length themselves, mind; people just seem a bit torn on Ed Sheeran’s Galway Girl as entrance music. Get to opener Funny Face and have the exquisite melodic foundations set, and we’re all good. And really, a band as unassuming and humble as Arm’s Length are do thrive on how well their music is conveyed. It’s a great, clear sound they’ve got, given the chance to soar whenever possible, and knowing the value of a good crescendo to keep things moving. The latter proves pretty commonplace though by no means tired. There’s just a feel to this that continues working—not opulent or extravagant, but massive in stature all the same.
It says a lot how the majority of Arm’s Length’s hour draws a reaction typically reserved for genre staples. It first lands on In Loving Memory and just gets clearer and clearer from there. You feel the air shift for Palinopsia’s teary-eyed, hoarse-throated reservation; it happens again for the crowd-led final chorus of Garamond. Remove the venue’s barrier and this wouldn’t be far from emo’s natural, communal habitat, such is the elation poured out from both band and fans. With as often as Steinberg calls for lights on the crowd for him to see, the gratitude is palpable. At the same time, Arm’s Length are clearly still here to forge forward, not rest on already-evident successes. And thus, Object Permanence pips its closest competition for the new Biggest Singalong of the Night, and Morning Person reaches the apogee of this band’s creativity in its grand ending, swirling and swelling with no need to stop.
Honestly, it’s hard to pick faults with any of this. For the healthy cadre of superfans in attendance tonight, that sentiment applies tenfold, at least. Arm’s Length feel special and important here in a way that deems flash and spectacle totally irrelevant, instead drilling down to the core of what lets emo like this withstand so much. An encore of Overture is the final breath of truth into that, introduced as “like if Arm’s Length had a national anthem” and carried out with just as much gravity. It’s got intimacy but also power, with the flawless execution of a band at the top of their game. Clearly, the emo function is the only place to be this Saturday night.
Words by Luke Nuttall
Photos by Will Robinson (Instagram)
