This has been a long time coming, by anyone’s measure. It’s Casey’s first ‘proper’ UK tour since reforming in 2022, and after an extended break from live shows in 2024, the first real chance to support their last album How To Disappear. That came out over two years ago now, and while it’s admittedly not their finest work, to see Casey finally give it its run is still a great thing. They’re one of the most celebrated bands of their generation of British post-hardcore, famed for an emotional rigour that few similar could surpass. The fact that they’re back in business at all is a great thing.
You’d definitely believe that both supports would be in full agreement with that sentiment, too. Casey’s influence has always felt more pervasive than their peers’ (typically with regards to atmosphere), and Mirrortalk are the night’s first main proponents of that. They’re also the one who could use the most work, but it’s not totally their fault. Being saddled with the muddiest vocal mix of the night isn’t an advantageous position to be in. Then again, their deliberate, dense emo with little distinction from song to song could often use a more endemic pick-me-up more than a better sound system. The passion for what they do is always good, though, even if there are still growing pains to contend with.
By comparison, Lastelle introducing themselves with Freddie Whatmore swapping out his bass for a trumpet line is immediately more ear-catching. Their parallels to 2010s post-hardcore are even clearer than Mirrortalk’s, in the widescreen, greyscale approach that flits into Holding Absence territory. (The similarities between The Silence Hurts The Most II and Wilt can feel especially stark.) But also like Holding Absence, there’s the feeling of a much bigger band barely contained by Rebellion’s meagre size. Blessed with a far more charitable sound, the continuous sweep of Lastelle really is impressive; there’s not an undynamic moment to be found. Add in some great performance energy and Adam Rigozzi wrenching the most out of his Britrock vocal palette, and Lastelle unquestionably seem like ones to watch.
For the obvious stars of the show, though, it couldn’t be anyone other than Casey. The room is nice and full at this point, though not to overshadow or disquiet what’s still very humble. There’s no grand declaration to be made outside of Casey’s clear appreciation that they’re still able to do this, and that’s enough. For a band whose entire oeuvre is reliant on vulnerability and frankness, it’s a natural extension of what’s already here. Perhaps that’s why there’s such a seamless flow from start to end. This is an hour set that feels nothing of the sort; you’d struggle to isolate even any dead weight or unwanted slowdown.
The whole thing sounds excellent too, far beyond what you might expect in a venue of this size. Unique Lights opens with rippling guitars and glassy shimmers, where there’s not a live blemish to be found. It’s still unfalteringly human, though, as Tom Weaver stands stalwart at the head of the stage, delivering with clear fervour. There’s composure here, breaking slightly as Weaver steps back to catch his breath during one of Haze’s quieter moments, but not shattered. Thus, there’s a naturalness to Casey that, even so far removed from any significant release, goes undisturbed. Screams especially slide into place with little friction, first noticeable on Puncture Wounds To Heaven and reappearing through Great Grief, Fluorescents, Bruise…basically, it’s a masterful way to do this. Get to Hell and its grinding hardcore riff, and its bloody, wrenched-out expression is an immaculate payoff.
None of that resonance shifts, either. What might seem unassuming from the outside really draws you deeper from inside its orbit, constantly and consistently. Bruise with its deliberate, rolling tempo or the emo earthiness of For Katie are doused in Casey’s natural magnetism, as divergent from ‘normal’ as they are. How To Disappear, meanwhile, is the only real instance of visual language coming into play, with its accompanying bright lights almost as a way to coax out its ethereality. It’s also where the first stagedivers of the night come from, if a reminder were needed that Casey are ostensibly still a hardcore band. Pits will form, but even they’re nestled in the communality of release.
Again, it all circles back to the resonance that Casey command. In every guitar shudder and shouted-back line, there’s a real palpability here that few others in this style can really replicate. You get big, zinger lines all the time, but rarely do they have the spirit of every single person in a room like Teeth’s “Yours is the only love I’ve ever known”, or the raucous send-off to Little Bird, “Someday you will ache the way I ache”. To fully tie that together, former drummer Max Nicolai is in the crowd, acknowledged and thanked by Weaver where the love and camaraderie hasn’t faded. For all involved—band; fans; even those who have stepped back from it all—the return of Casey feels like such a singular, important, arresting thing. Whichever way you look at it, that’s not even slightly deniable.
Words by Luke Nuttall
