Review by Alan Steenson for MPM
Some bands you grow out of. Some bands grow old with you. And then there are the Levellers, who somehow manage to do neither.
I first encountered the Levellers back in 1989 when they were supporting New Model Army, and I’ve been a huge fan ever since. Almost four decades later, here I am watching them bounce around a Belfast stage with the same raw energy, passion and conviction that made me fall in love with their music in the first place.
The only difference is that my knees are considerably older, even if the music still manages to convince them otherwise.
Last night’s occasion was the 35th anniversary celebration of their magnificent Levelling the Land, an album that, for me, has lost absolutely none of its relevance over the years. If anything, given the state of the world, much of what they were shouting about back in 1991 seems even more relevant today.
But before the Levellers took to the stage, we were treated to something rather special.
Hailing from Essex, The Meffs are a politically charged punk duo consisting of guitarist and vocalist Lily Hopkins and drummer Lewis Copsey. Two people, one guitar, a drum kit and enough energy to power a small town. And what a racket they make.
From the opening blast of Business, Lily was an absolute force of nature. Pouting, prowling, strutting and constantly engaging with the audience, she has that wonderful punk attitude that instantly reminded me of Bow Wow Wow. All that glorious angst, defiance and complete disregard for playing nicely.
There’s something refreshing about watching musicians who clearly have something to say and aren’t remotely interested in whether everyone agrees with them. Tunes including Stamp and What a Nightmare only added to the frantic pace, while the early Belfast crowd was initially a little subdued, perhaps still deciding whether to commit themselves to an evening of bouncing or preserve their knees for the main event.
Lily, however, was having none of it.
At one point she announced what she described as their fastest song, Fight, clocking in at a ridiculous 23 seconds, and encouraged the audience to separate to create a mosh pit. Twenty-three seconds! I’ve had sneezes that lasted longer. But it was exactly what the crowd needed.
A bit of encouragement, a bit of chaos and suddenly the evening began to properly ignite.
There was plenty of political commentary, some wonderfully entertaining Farage bashing and absolutely no attempt to disguise where this band stands.
Their merchandise rather brilliantly summed up the philosophy: “We will be less activist if you be less shitty.” Hard to argue with that.
There was a lovely nod to punk history with their take on X-Ray Spex’s Identity, a fitting homage to the wonderful Poly Styrene, while a ferocious version of The Prodigy’s Firestarter demonstrated that you don’t need a stage full of musicians to generate an extraordinary amount of noise.
Elsewhere the likes of So Modern (Keep Up), Breathe, Disorder (Wake Up) and Like Gravity kept that same wonderful fury rolling along.
But the real joy was watching Lily.
There was something almost mischievous about her stage presence, constantly winding up the audience, demanding a reaction and looking as though she was enjoying every single second.
And just when you thought she couldn’t possibly squeeze any more energy out of the evening, she decided the stage was clearly far too restrictive a place to finish the set.
For their closing number, Clowns, Lily abandoned the stage and headed straight into the audience, guitar and all, continuing to belt out the song without missing a single beat.
There she was, surrounded by the very people she’d spent the evening encouraging to make some noise, playing away as though wandering through a Belfast crowd with a guitar was the most natural thing in the world.
It was wonderfully chaotic, gloriously punk and completely in keeping with everything we’d witnessed. No elaborate production, no theatrical nonsense, just a seriously talented musician getting right amongst the audience and delivering one final blast of glorious noise.
The Meffs didn’t simply warm up the audience for the Levellers.
They grabbed Belfast by the scruff of the neck, gave it a bloody good shake and left it thoroughly ready for what was coming next.
THE LEVELLERS — 35 years and still bouncing
And then came the main event.
The Levellers took to the stage to celebrate 35 years of Levelling the Land, opening with One Way, and from those opening moments it was abundantly clear that nobody was going to be easing gently into the evening. They bounced. We bounced. The whole bloody place bounced.
And they continued bouncing throughout the night, slowing down only when the songs themselves demanded something a little more reflective. The Game and Fifteen Years came charging along next, before The Boatman and the accompanying Boatman Jig sent the room off again with the digeridoo being unleashed.
With Mark saying ‘…and now a word from our sponsors’… Jeremy shouted LIBERTY and off we went headlong into Liberty Song kept everyone moving, while Far From Home and Sell Out showed exactly why these songs have lost none of their bite.
What has always appealed to me about the Levellers is their absolute sincerity. There’s no manufactured rebellion, no carefully rehearsed political posturing and certainly no sense that they’re simply going through the motions.
These are songs written by people who believed every word when they wrote them and, more importantly, still believe every word when they perform them.
Another Man’s Cause, The Road and the wonderfully thunderous The Riverflow carried us deeper into that album, one that has accompanied so many chapters of my life. Hearing it live, with this kind of passion and commitment, was a reminder of just what a remarkable record it remains.
And onto our Belfast connection with the band Dan Donnelly
Long before Dan became part of the Levellers, I spent many a Friday and Saturday evening in the Empire watching him perform with Watercress, and subsequently followed his musical adventures with The Wonder Stuff.
Even back then he was an extraordinarily talented multi-instrumentalist, with wonderfully clear, sharp vocal delivery and that infectious enthusiasm that makes certain musicians such a pleasure to watch. I have particularly fond memories of him playing the didgeridoo during those Empire nights, so seeing him rekindle that instrument onstage with the Levellers brought a smile to my face.
There’s something rather wonderful about watching someone you remember as a young musician playing in a Belfast venue all those years ago now standing onstage as an integral part of a band you’ve loved for almost four decades.
Since Simon Friend’s departure, Dan has stepped into what I genuinely believe is his natural musical home. His crystal-clear vocals provide the perfect foil to Mark Chadwick’s distinctive lead, while his versatility and obvious enjoyment of performing have brought another dimension to the band’s sound.
He doesn’t feel like somebody filling another musician’s shoes. He feels like he belongs there. And that, in itself, is quite an achievement.
Then came Battle of the Beanfield, one of the standout moments of the entire evening. For those familiar with the song and the events behind it, this has always been one of the Levellers’ most powerful pieces of work. Last night’s rendition was nothing short of extraordinary.
Bathed in blue and white lighting, the stage took on an almost haunting atmosphere as Jon Sevink’s fiddle cut through the music with a sound that, mimicked a police siren.
The tension built and built, the music becoming increasingly furious, before that final, venomous cry of “BASTARDS!” from Dan.
Bloody hell. Even after all these years, that song can still send a shiver straight down your spine. It was one of those moments when the music, the lighting, the musicians and the emotion behind the song all came together perfectly.
And it served as another timely reminder that the Levellers have never simply been about creating a good night out. Their music has always carried a message, and they have never been afraid to deliver it.
They continued with Julie, which was bathed in pink and had the crowd in sync…then World Freak Show and Carry Me, two reminders of just how much watching back in 89 made me hooked.
Then came Dirty Davey. That one carries its own personal connection for me because of my brother Davy, who ironically isn’t quite as dirty now… but in the 90’s ….. It’s one of those songs that immediately brings certain people and memories to mind, and hearing it live again was another special moment in an evening already overflowing with them.
That’s perhaps the wonderful thing about following a band for so long. Their songs become intertwined with your own life. They’re no longer simply tracks on an album. They become reminders of people, places, friendships and moments that might otherwise have slipped quietly into the past.
Hope St. and The Cholera Well (probably less known to a lot of the crowd) brought the main set to a suitably energetic conclusion, but thankfully nobody was going home just yet.
For the encore, The Meffs returned to join the Levellers for This Garden, with Lily taking lead vocals. It was a brilliant collision of generations, bringing a fresh edge to a song that already has plenty of attitude of its own. Watching Lily share the stage with the Levellers felt entirely natural.
Then came The Devil Went Down to Georgia, another opportunity to showcase the band’s instrumental prowess, before the inevitable and glorious finale of Beautiful Day. And what a beautiful day it had been.
The most satisfying part of the entire evening had nothing to do with the performance itself. It was sharing it with my 21-year-old son, Charlie.
Before last night, Charlie’s knowledge of the Levellers extended to Beautiful Day. That was pretty much the beginning and end of it. By the time we left Mandela Hall, however, I think it’s fair to say he’d been well and truly converted.
There’s a particular pleasure in watching your son discover something you’ve loved for most of your adult life, especially when that discovery happens in the way music was always meant to be experienced. Not through a playlist, not through some algorithm telling you what you might enjoy, but standing in a room full of people, feeling the energy coming off a stage and recognising that what you’re witnessing is something genuinely special.
And perhaps, just perhaps, realising that his old man hasn’t been talking complete bollocks about music all these years. Although I’m sure he’ll continue to dispute that on plenty of other subjects.
Thirty-five years after Levelling the Land, the Levellers remain an extraordinary live band. They haven’t softened their message, haven’t abandoned their principles and, judging by last night’s performance, certainly haven’t discovered the meaning of slowing down.
And in The Meffs, they’ve found the perfect touring companions. A younger band carrying that same rebellious spirit forward, proving that angry, intelligent, politically conscious music is very much alive and kicking.
For me, the night was more than simply another gig. It was a journey back through nearly four decades of music, a reminder of Friday nights spent in the Empire, memories of family, old friends and the bands that have soundtracked so much of my life. And, most importantly, it was an opportunity to share a little piece of that history with my son.
I’ve always believed that the very best music comes from people who genuinely believe in every word they write and perform.
The Levellers have been doing exactly that for almost four decades. And last night in Belfast, they proved once again that there’s absolutely no substitute for the real thing.
One Way of Life? Too bloody right….
Photography by MPM
