LIVE REVIEW: The Futureheads, Northumbria University, Newcastle, Friday 13 December 2019
As post-election pick-me-ups go, this was probably as good as it gets: a local band recently returned from a long break firing on all cylinders in front of a (nearly) hometown crowd.
Indeed, what better way to spend Friday the 13th, as the nation came to terms with a landslide Tory victory at the previous day’s general election, than with The Futureheads.
The Sunderland indie/post-punk band had nailed their colours firmly to the socialist mast in the run-up to #GE2019, and were despondent at Boris Johnson’s runaway victory. But what better way to take out your frustrations than by smashing out a night of adrenalized guitar music, in front of an adoring crowd.
Roxy Girls, a Sunderland four-piece described by no less a sage as Radio 6 Music’s Tom Robinson as “awkward, angular, angry and inventive”, opened the show, and you could see why they were chosen, as The Futureheads are obviously a huge influence on their sound.
Next up were Indoor Pets, a Kent band who added their condolences to those still smarting from the election result, and said they were pleased to be in another part of the country which stayed red. Their guitar-driven ‘dirty pop’ slipped down a treat, and paved the way nicely for the main course.
The Futureheads formed in 2000, when Barry Hyde (guitar and vocals), Ross Millard (guitar and vocals), David ‘Jaff’ Craig (bass and vocals) met at Sunderland College. Barry’s brother Dave joined later on drums.
Their jagged guitar-based indie rock, influenced by the likes of Gang Of Four, XTC and Wire, quickly gained a local following, and after a handful of well-received EPs and singles, they released their self-titled debut album in July 2004. It was well-enough received, but it was the release as a single of the only non-original track, their take on Kate Bush’s Hounds Of Love, which give them lift off.
The album achieved gold status, and they released four more before taking a break in 2013 to pursue other interests. To their fans’ delight they reconvened this year and released a new album, Powers (reviewed here).
But tonight was all about celebrating the past, with the show billed as part of a short tour called ’15 Years of The Futureheads’, as that’s how long had elapsed since their first and best-loved album.
They never bettered its No 11 UK chart position, and tonight promised to play it in full, from start to finish, so it’s an understatement to say anticipation was high by the time they took the stage amid a blinding lightshow.
Frenetic opener Le Garage was here and gone in less than two minutes, followed by fan favourites Robot and A To B, and it was clear the boys were pouring their frustration at events in Westminster into their performance.
Decent Days And Nights, four songs in, was greeted like the indie club classic that it is, and Meantime and Alms lifted the fever pitch even higher.
One song – I forget which – saw a fan shout ‘again!’, which prompted the bemused response from the stage: “That’s not how it works – who does that? If this the first gig you’ve ever been to?” But it was all good natured, and we ploughed on, with First Day and Stupid And Shallow standing out from the pack, to the song everyone was waiting for.
The crowd needed little encouragement to help out with ‘uh, oh oh, uh, oh oh’ parts of Hounds Of Love, the ‘Heads most successful single; this was what they had come to hear above all else, and it produced the biggest singalong of the evening.
A quick Man Ray later and the boys took their bow, returning in due haste for an encore, though they explained they might have to change things about a bit, as Barry was losing his voice through laryngitis.
It’s one of the band’s strengths that they don’t rely on one singer, instead sharing vocal duties, and they sped towards the finishing line with a five-song salvo including non-album single Christmas Was Better In The 80s and Good Night Out from latest album Powers.
They ended the 75-minute show with The Beginning Of The Twist and were gone, promising we’d see them again, though gigs these days have to be arranged around Jaff’s day job as a teacher. Perhaps he could persuade his school that exultant nights like this should be added to the curriculum…
