Just like that and we’re into the final month of 2025, the year is winding towards the inevitable finalities of the beholden calendar. Above, in between brooding clouds, the moon is waxing towards its concluding fullness until the new year whilst all the while, as we enter the darkest weeks nature can assemble, the winter solstice approaches.
Winter is truly here on this cold and brisk December evening. As we approach the beautiful and eye catching Waterfront Hall, we observe the diversity of eager fans to see the majestic yet dark Gary Numan.
Second night for me up at the historic Ulster Hall and I am interested to see what the age group is like compared to last nights Answer doing Zep gig, decent sized crowd in here already on a wet Sunday night.
It was another one of those Wolverhampton nights where the cold doesn’t just sit in the air, it lays claim to the whole street outside KK’s Steel Mill, turning people into silhouettes hustling in through the doors because they know warmth and noise are waiting on the inside.
With a growing reputation as one of the best singer/songwriters to come out of Suffolk since a certain Mr Sheeran emerged onto the scene, Cam T certainly has music in his blood.
It is a brave task to step up and take this on, iconic band and set, absolutely packed house tonight as well, but, I can’t think of a better band to attempt this one, it’s near 9pm and the lights go down!
Things have a habit of going ‘full circle’ in life. Whilst the warm welcome from the Tramshed’s security and front of house staff remains constant behind the scenes there’s change.
The doors at bp pulse LIVE had barely finished humming when the first chords cut through the cavernous bowl of the arena and, for anyone who came for the whole ride, the night announced itself as one of those rare shows where each band, opener, support and headline, felt like its own fully realised universe but somehow also part of the same, fevered dream.
The Apollo AC always feels a little too dark when the doors open. Not ominous — just lived-in. The kind of dark that carries the weight of years of boot prints, bar fights that didn’t escalate, and guitar solos that did.
For many of us here tonight at the iconic Ulster Hall this has been one of the most long awaited gigs of the year. There have been many nostalgic Anniversary tours in 2025 but the return of All Loud. All Wild. The Allfuckingmighty has been one of the most eagerly anticipated.
On a crisp November evening, the BMO Center in Rockford, Illinois, transformed into a sanctuary for classic rock devotees. Styx, the legendary band that has been weaving musical tapestries since the early 1970s
Winter is fast approaching and we feel the brisk wind and rain as we pile into the car, to head to the big smoke for tonight’s gig Rotting Christ.
The Sylvee felt restless long before the doors opened, the kind of low buzz that builds when three different breeds of heavy music collide in one room on a cold Wisconsin night.
I’d been to The Corporation in Sheffield enough times to know how a night like this would feel before the first guitar was even struck: the familiar smell of beer and old plaster, the chatter folding into the stage lights, a crowd that leans forward like it knows something it can’t yet name.
We arrive in Dublin on what is a miserable and extremely wet evening, however, this does not dampen our spirits (excuse the pun) as we are ready for a night of American Punk. We meet up for a drink in The Green Room with other rockers ahead of the gig.
There can only be one front man from a band that formed nearly 50 years ago with the gall, the nerve and, indeed, the confidence to stand in the centre of a stage with a huge grin right slap bang in the middle of a raucous gig and calmly announce that the next song is (and I quote) “the biggest pile of shit ever written”!