Author Archives: Jason Miller

Twenty years on, Hopes and Fears remains a masterpiece, untouched by time. Few bands will have a moment like this, and even fewer will stick around to celebrate it at this magnitude. I saw this original tour in Houston, Texas in 2005 and now nearly two decades later, I’m amid 20,000 fans at a sold-out night two at the famed O2 Arena in London. The energy is electric, the music transcendent, and Keane’s timeless sound isn’t just enduring—it’s thriving, with the crowd’s roaring approval as proof.

Tim Rice-Oxley hammers on the keyboards like a heavy metal guitarist shreds during a face-melting guitar solo. You really can’t take your eyes off this guy as he’s clearly having the time of his life, pouring his heart and soul into every smash of the ivories. Tom Chaplin’s voice was the best I’ve ever heard it. Maybe it was made for arenas? It was just next level, and I’ve seen him perform Queen songs where I thought he was peaking. Add to that his signature charismatic leaps, swirls, and fist pumps, and you’ve got that 2004 magic refined and elevated.

The rhythm section of Richard Hughes and Jesse Quin keep it simple but elegant while locking in that signature Keane groove that lays the foundation for their biggest hits. It’s easy to forget that there’s no guitar in this band, something that was a bit of a talk trigger twenty years ago but Keane proved that it’s just not needed for what they do best. The songs, it’s all about the songs. And on this night it was hard to argue with the setlist.

The star of the night was of course Hopes and Fears played in its entirety, and let me tell you, this record still holds up like it was released yesterday. It’s not only one of the all-time best-selling albums in the UK, clocking up more than 3.5 million sales in the UK alone, but it’s a damn near perfect album. You could call it the Hysteria of brit pop with five singles dominating the chart as the hits just kept coming.

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Entering the Eventim Apollo on a brisk Tuesday evening in London felt like stepping into a chapter of my personal soundtrack.

My first encounter with Mika’s music was a chance stumble upon “Grace Kelly” while living in San Francisco. As someone deeply appreciative of bands like Jellyfish, Queen, and Badfinger, Mika’s sound struck a chord with me—bold, inventive, and refreshingly unique. That track alone was a game-changer, and diving into his album was akin to discovering a pop music gem, brimming with disco, funk, and those falsettos and harmonies that instantly pull you in. It was as if the energy of the Scissor Sisters’ debut had been reborn.

Mika’s 2024 tour kicks off on the heels of a spectacular year. His French-language album not only snagged the “French-language Album of the Year” at the Pure Charts Awards, but he’s also made waves on television, earning critical acclaim for his roles on The Voice in France and The Piano in the UK—the latter winning Best Original Programme at the 2024 Broadcast Awards. His venture into film scoring also earned him a nomination for Breakthrough Composer of the Year by the International Film Music Critics Association, showcasing his remarkable versatility as an artist. To say he’s at the peak of his powers would be an understatement.

Seeing Mika live again was like reuniting with an old friend. His Apocalypse Calypso Tour might have featured just one song from his latest album Que ta tête fleurisse toujours, but it didn’t matter—the energy was through the roof. The crowd was pumped, eager for a night packed with Mika’s greatest hits. He delivered big time, diving into the songs that first hooked us, making sure the evening was filled with those signature Mika moments we all came for.

To fully grasp Mika’s unique artistry, you really had to be there. The show kicked off with an unforgettable spectacle—Mika, decked out in massive red wings and enclosed in a symbolic cage, delivering “Bougez.” His performance swung from beautiful to intense, capturing the full spectrum of human emotion. From that first song, it was full steam ahead. Mika was on a mission to energize every person in the crowd, keeping us grinning from ear to ear for the next two hours.

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Tuesday night at the Troxy in London, Liam Gallagher and John Squire delivered a performance that could only be described as a serendipitous collision of rock ‘n’ roll giants. When the news of their collaboration first broke, skepticism and excitement swirled in equal measure. Gallagher’s unmistakable vocal presence, combined with Squire’s masterful guitar work, sounded too good to be true. Yet, there we were, witnessing a partnership that seemed destined by the rock gods themselves.

The crowd at the Troxy was a testament to the magnetic pull of Gallagher, a figure whose fans exhibit devotion that borders on the spiritual. The scene could easily be mistaken for a political rally, if not for the oceans of beer and the electrifying anticipation of music rather than rhetoric. The mood was intense, a heady mix of throwback vibes and the buzz for something novel, as the crowd geared up knowing they were about to witness something far from the ordinary.

What truly set the evening apart was the duo’s bold decision to eschew the expected Oasis and Stone Roses hits in favor of their new collaborative material. The gamble paid off spectacularly, with tracks like “Just Another Rainbow,” “I’m So Bored,” and “Mars to Liverpool” proving that this partnership was not just a novelty but a potent new force in music. Their cover of “Jumping Jack Flash” was a nod to their influences while firmly establishing their own identity. I was standing there in complete awe of how well it worked, Gallagher’s snarl over the psychedelic ’70s sonic landscapes from Squire; it really was something special, something I never thought I’d see.

The origins of this unique collaboration, as Gallagher revealed, were as unconventional as the show itself, beginning with a simple gift of Portuguese moccasins from Gallagher to Squire. This gesture, emblematic of their mutual respect and friendship, sparked a creative partnership that has since captivated the UK music scene. It’s a reminder that sometimes the most extraordinary projects arise from the simplest acts of thoughtfulness and connection. Who would have thought that Gallagher was such a good gift-giver?

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Strap in and brace yourself for a metal odyssey that breaks the mold, where Dragonforce, Amaranthe, and Infected Rain come together in a lineup that’s a rarity in today’s landscape—a trio where no band is the weak link, each elevating the bar for what a metal tour can be. Gone are the days of filler acts; this tour is all killer, no filler, channelling the spirit of the late ’90s and early 2000s when lineups were so impeccably curated, you’d swear the stars had aligned.

Amaranthe, with their unparalleled trio of vocalists, elevates the metal scene into an electrifying spectacle. Elize Ryd’s enchanting melodies, Henrik Englund Wilhelmsson’s raw growls, and Nils Molin’s robust cleans interweave, creating a vibrant tapestry of sound that’s both aggressive and melodious. This vocal dynamism sets the stage for performances that blur the lines between genres, cementing their place in what some affectionately term “dance metal.”

Their latest endeavour, The Catalyst, is a testament to this evolution, showcasing a blend of razor-sharp precision and boundless energy. However, as someone who holds Helix as their favourite album, its absence from the setlist strikes a personal chord. Despite this, the overall brilliance of Amaranthe’s performance remains undiminished, offering a glimpse into a future where metal is not just heard but felt in all its multifaceted glory.

Dragonforce orchestrates a journey that’s a high-octane blend of nostalgia and spectacle, weaving an adrenaline-charged realm where power metal is sovereign, arcade games cast their luminous allure across the stage, and pop classics undergo a metamorphosis into power metal masterpieces. Their renditions of Taylor Swift’s “Wildest Dreams” and Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On” exemplify their knack for blending the unexpected with sheer technical brilliance.

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When Filter unleashed their first record nearly 30 years ago, it was like a sonic sledgehammer smashing through the music scene’s norms—unadulterated industrial metal at its purest. Yet, as they evolved, shredding the playbook for a sound that melds gut-punching riffs with a denser, more organic metal, their creative trajectory has only ascended.

Their London gig on Saturday was no mere concert; it was a tempest of sound, helmed by the indomitable Richard Patrick, whose genius has only intensified over the years. The Algorithm marks a zenith in their journey, marrying the ferocious energy of their early days with a sharp modern edge that cuts through today’s musical clutter.

Having seen Filter live a dozen times over the years, I can assert without a hint of hyperbole that now is the ultimate time to experience them. The setlist—a seamless blend of their immense catalogue with the blistering tracks from the new album—showcases a band at the peak of its powers.

Onstage, the atmosphere was electric, a visual spectacle of deep purples, blues, and enveloping smoke, making for a photographer’s nightmare but a fan’s dream. Patrick, in his signature Ray Bans, was a force of nature. His voice, commanding and potent, anchored the night, drawing us into a shared journey through Filter’s evolving soundscape.

The setlist was a masterful raid on Filter’s arsenal, zeroing in on the raw power of their first three albums while snatching some gems from soundtracks and their more underrated works. “Jurasitol” and “Trip Like I Do” detonated with epic force, while “You Walk Away” and “American Cliché” hit harder than ever, each riff a sledgehammer to the senses.

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Back in 2016, when the UK’s damp air first wrapped itself around me, I stumbled upon a sound so ferocious, it felt like a sonic uppercut. “Juggernaut” by Frank Carter & the Rattlesnakes was a revelation—imagine Quicksand’s grit, Lamb of God’s fury, and Fugazi’s defiant edge all mashed into one. It was more than music; it was a call to arms. Carter’s live performances elevated this fury, with a presence so intense it could ignite a fire in the rain. The man was angry, and his music was the storm.

Fast forward to the embrace of 2024, and Frank Carter has done what few dare—he’s swung the pendulum from fury to finesse, embodying a transformation akin to the Arctic Monkeys’ genre-defying leaps. Donning the mantle of a big band leader, Carter croons with a finesse that belies his punk roots, showcasing a creative evolution that is as unexpected as it is captivating. The latest record, Dark Rainbows, is nothing short of brilliant, a testament to Carter’s unyielding drive to explore and expand his musical landscape.

Dark Rainbows marks a significant shift in Frank Carter’s musical direction, showcasing his vocal talents amid broader, more experimental soundscapes. This departure from the intense, raw energy of his past work is evident in standout tracks like “Honey,” which combines catchy melodies with a depth of emotion and a distinctive ’80s new wave feel, and “Man of the Hour” which introduces a ’70s AM radio vibe, adding a slow jam feel to the album.

These tracks speak to a more refined artistic vision, highlighting the band’s willingness to explore different musical eras. However, this change has not been universally praised. While some listeners appreciate the experimentation, others miss the direct, aggressive edge that characterized the Rattlesnakes’ earlier music, criticizing the album’s slow start and its focus on atmosphere over guitar-driven rock.

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In a world where the theatricality of power metal reigns supreme, the recent Gloryhammer and Beast in Black show at the O2 Kentish Town Forum in London stands as a testament to the enduring allure of a genre that marries the epic to the electric. Dubbed “Glory and the Beast,” this tour has become a sold-out sensation, a gathering of metal aficionados eager to partake in the high-octane energy, massive guitar solos, and over-the-top theatrics that define this corner of the musical universe. 

The Kentish Town Forum, one of London’s most iconic venues, became the epicentre of a power metal odyssey, offering an ideal backdrop for the sweeping soundscapes of the evening. This venue, nestled perfectly for acts bridging the gap between the intimacy of smaller stages and the grandeur of places like Hammersmith, became the crucible for a sold-out show that highlighted the unique appeal of both bands. Their ability to master the genre’s essential elements—catchiness, heaviness, and theatricality—while fostering a communal experience, has consistently drawn large crowds. Their music transcends the bounds of mere performance to become a shared adventure through fantastical lands crafted by their imagination.

Gloryhammer, a band that has carved its niche within the metal scene with a laser-sharp focus on fantasy and science fiction narratives, brings more than just music to the table; they bring stories. Founded in 2010 by Alestorm’s Christopher Bowes, the band’s discography is a rollicking ride through an invented universe of intergalactic battles and legendary heroes, all served with a side of tongue-in-cheek humour. Their significance lies not just in their sound, which is as potent and catchy as any power metal ought to be, but in their ability to create a world within their albums, inviting listeners to partake in an ongoing saga that is as immersive as it is musical.

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The View’s gig in London last week wasn’t just a throwback to the mid-2000s music craze, it was a full-blown resurrection. Back in those days, I was knee-deep in the music biz stateside, witnessing UK bands like The Zutons, Kasabian, and of course The View, trying to strike gold in the US. It was a hit-and-miss game, mostly misses, if we’re being honest. The View, with their Scottish roots and Libertines-esque sound, caught everyone’s attention with “Same Jeans” and their debut Hats Off to the Buskers. But like many others, they were just a blip on the American radar.

Fast forward to the present, and a chance encounter with an article about The View reignited that old spark. Learning of their onstage “brotherly bust up,” I knew I had to catch them live before any potential split. Scala in London was the perfect setting, a sold-out show pulsating with energy and anticipation. From the first note to the last, it quickly became apparent that this was one of those cases where the record Hats off to the Buskers didn’t capture the magic and energy of the live show. It’s night and day to me, maybe it was the major label polish or maybe it was digital trumping analogue. 

Seeing The View in 2023 is like watching a band reborn. On stage, they radiate a confidence that teeters on the edge of cocky, yet somehow, it suits them perfectly. Gone are the days of leaning on their past hits. Instead, they’re dishing out fresh tracks from their latest album Exorcism of the Youth. Among these, “Dixie” is a standout. Kyle Falconer has morphed into a master of pop anthems, crafting songs that grab you by the collar and demand your attention.

This wasn’t one of those gigs where everyone was waiting for that one hit song. The audience was there for the ride, start to finish. Every new song built on the last, and by three-quarters in, the place was electric. The jam-packed crowd looked to be on the verge of a full-blown pit at every second. They ended without an encore, and honestly, they didn’t need one. They’d already proved their point.

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Last week, London was treated to a rare and intimate journey into the origins of one of the UK’s most seminal rock bands. Death Cult, the early incarnation of The Cult, concluded their UK and Ireland tour with a final, electrifying performance at the Islington Assembly Hall. This followed two sold-out nights at Electric Brixton, testifying to the band’s enduring appeal. Far from being just another gig, this tour finale offered a profound exploration into the raw, unpolished beginnings of a group that would go on to shape the landscape of goth, hard rock, and alternative rock for years to come.

With Lili Refrain setting the stage with her ambient sounds, the night was already off to an unorthodox start. But it was The Cult’s performance that truly captivated the audience. Ian Astbury appears to have tapped into a timeless wellspring of rock ‘n’ roll energy. He was a powerhouse on stage, belting out classics with a fervor that could rival bands of any era. The band, clearly at a peak in their musical journey, delivered a performance that was both a nostalgic throwback and a vibrant showcase of their continued relevance and dynamism in the rock scene.

The audience was a mosaic of generations—from weathered rock veterans to fresh-faced newbies, all united by their love for The Cult’s enduring sound. The atmosphere was electric, a testament to the band’s ability to transcend time and trends. Celebrating 40 years of musical evolution, the setlist was a meticulously crafted trip down memory lane, covering their metamorphosis from the post-punk Southern Death Cult era to the hard rock heights of The Cult. Highlights like “Spiritwalker” and “She Sells Sanctuary” weren’t just songs; they were anthems that reignited the fire in the hearts of fans both young and old.

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In the heart of London on a shadowy Sunday night, the lost boys of metal, Finnish goth rockers The 69 Eyes took the stage. These enigmatic figures stand somewhere between the haunting melodies of Sisters of Mercy and the rebellious spirit of Billy Idol. Their music transcends boundaries, merging gothic rock with glam metal and a dash of classic rock ‘n’ roll—a unique concoction affectionately known as “goth ‘n’ roll.”

At the forefront of this dark spectacle was Jyrki 69, the charismatic Finnish singer who has long been the face and voice of The 69 Eyes. The band’s musical journey has seen them evolve from their glam metal roots to the captivating world of gothic rock, epitomized in their latest creation, Death of Darkness, released earlier this year. Over the years and since their inception in 1992, The 69 Eyes have produced a formidable catalogue of 13 studio albums, each a testament to their musical prowess.

As the lights dimmed, the audience was transported by the opening chords of the classic “Devils,” setting the stage for an enchanting night. The setlist was a carefully curated selection of their extensive discography, featuring four mesmerizing tracks from “Blessed Be” and a dynamic duo from their latest release, Death of Darkness—the eponymous title track and the pulsating “Drive.”

Jyrki 69, in his prime, prowled the stage, casting his spell with an alluring charisma that held the audience captive. The band’s performance was an electrifying spectacle, executed with precision and boundless energy. It was clear that these Finnish vampires had discovered the elixir of eternal youth in their music.

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Hailing originally from Long Beach, California, Rival Sons, with two Grammy nominations to their name, has seemingly discovered a more fervent following in Europe than in their homeland.

Their core lineup features the charismatic Jay Buchanan on lead vocals, the guitar maestro Scott Holiday, the reliable Dave Beste on bass, and the powerhouse drumming of Michael Miley. The band began their career on Earache, known primarily for their epic metal roster, and eventually moved to their current home, the legendary Atlantic Records, a label that housed many of their influences and stands as one of the most important record labels in history.

Touring in support of two new records in 2023, Rival Sons kicked off their UK tour on Friday at the legendary Roundhouse in London. With a career spanning over a decade, Rival Sons have not only carved their own path but have also evolved into something truly extraordinary—a modern-day equivalent of the mighty Led Zeppelin. Forget all the hype around Greta Van Fleet; Rival Sons are in a league of their own and continue to pave the way.

Look, I know everyone’s sick of the Zeppelin comparisons, but f*cking hell, the new album sitting alongside that classic Atlantic Records retro logo immediately took me back to the first time I heard that epic Zeppelin debut. You simply can’t deny the influence nor the ability of Rival Sons to put their own spin on it while continuing to evolve their sound.

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Princess Goes, the band spearheaded by the multi-talented Michael C. Hall, graced London with their presence at the EartH theatre in Hackney this past Sunday. The night was charged with the electric anticipation of a band returning in support of their freshly released album.

For everyone seeing the band live for the first time, the burning question is does Princess Goes live up to its theatrical title, and can Hall match the buzz of his acclaimed acting career with his musical prowess? The answer is a resounding yes. Hall doesn’t just shine on screen; the man possesses remarkable vocal chops. Their eclectic mix of tracks is hard to pin down, but the set exuded vibes reminiscent of a fusion between a polished Sisters of Mercy and a slightly less flamboyant Scissor Sisters. Picture the richness of synth sounds blending with dark undertones, interspersed with bright, pop-inspired melodies. Notably, Hall’s foray into falsetto was a highlight.

Princess Goes is not your run-of-the-mill ensemble. Their history is as impressive as their sound. Born from the creative camaraderie of working on Broadway’s Hedwig and the Angry Inch, the trio boasts some significant credentials. Hall, of course, stands out with his iconic roles in Dexter and Six Feet Under, and a musical track record including Broadway stints in Chicago and Lazarus.

Peter Yanowitz, the band’s drummer, boasts a remarkable musical resume. As an original member of The Wallflowers and with significant contributions to Morningwood, particularly the standout hit “Nth Degree,” his musical prowess is evident. He also collaborated closely with Natalie Merchant, playing an instrumental role in her brilliant debut Tigerlily. Yanowitz’s influence is clear in tracks like “Let it Go” and “Blur.”

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While queuing for a beer at the majestic Royal Albert Hall, the guy next to me, impressively nursing his third pint just five minutes after doors opened, struck up a conversation. “How many times have you seen Hawkwind?” he asked. Admitting it was my inaugural voyage, he laughed, “You’re in for a treat! I’ve seen them over a dozen times.” As he regaled me with stories from past concerts, my excitement for the evening ahead intensified.

Royal Albert Hall is more than just a temple of music; it’s a treasure trove of British musical history. Tonight, it morphed into a cathedral of cosmic sound, dedicated to the pioneers of space rock, Hawkwind. From the BBC Proms to iconic performances by the likes of The Beatles, Led Zeppelin, and Eric Clapton, this venue has seen it all. As I strolled its corridors, the walls boasted photographs capturing these legendary moments, a silent testament to its storied past. Among these greats, there I was, clutching my camera. Intimidating? Certainly. But, camera in hand, I dove in, eager to capture a slice of tonight’s interstellar magic.

Dave Brock, the heart and soul of Hawkwind, stood firmly in his element, wielding his guitar and belting out vocals that echoed through the grandeur of the venue. He may have skipped the keyboards this time around, but that void was more than filled by the inclusion of William Orbit, who painted massive aural soundscapes, blending seamlessly with the band’s trademark sounds.

Alongside Brock, Richard Chadwick’s thunderous drumming reverberated with a powerful pulse. Magnus Martin showered celestial melodies from his guitar, while Doug MacKinnon’s bass, like an anchor, ensured we stayed connected to the band’s cosmic rhythm. Yet, amidst these stellar performances, it was Thighpaulsandra who became the sorcerer of the night. His mesmerizing play on the keyboards and synthesizers felt like magic dust sprinkled across the universe, enveloping us in layers of sonic wonder.

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Marc Bolan was not just a musician, he was a phenomenon. In the electric haze of the ’70s, he emerged as the glittering comet of glam rock, leaving a trail of stardust in his wake. Bolan’s artistry was an intoxicating cocktail of rock ‘n’ roll tenacity and dreamy, otherworldly charm. Every guitar riff, every sultry lyric, felt like an invitation to a universe where fantasy and reality beautifully intertwined.

The groundbreaking album Electric Warrior by T. Rex wasn’t just my introduction to their unique sound, it was also the first album I ever purchased with my own money at the tender age of 10. I can still vividly recall the day “Bang a Gong (Get it on)” resonated from my local rock radio in St. Louis, Missouri. Its alluring call drew me irresistibly into Bolan’s mesmerizing world. And while the cassette tape has since worn, its label faded from non-stop play, the thrill of that initial discovery and pride of ownership endures.

Bolan’s untimely departure from this world left a void, but his melodies, his spirit, and his influence have proven indelible. Although I never had the privilege of seeing Bolan perform live, there was no way I would miss the 45th-anniversary concert commemorating his legacy. Held at the Shepherd’s Bush Empire in London last week, the event boasted a stellar lineup: T. Rextasy, The Dirty Pretty Strings directed by Tony Visconti, Neal X, Dana Gillespie, Richard Barone, Andy Ellison, Boz Boorer, and the ever-dynamic Marc Almond.

The evening unfolded masterfully. Marc Almond took the helm as the evening’s magnetic MC, introducing T. Rex’s legendary producer Tony Visconti and the Dirty Pretty Strings, who added a depth of orchestral resonance to the performances. T.Rextasy, hailed as the ultimate tribute to Bolan, not only opened the show but seamlessly wove their presence throughout the evening as the house band. Under the dynamic leadership of Danielz, they resurrected Bolan’s mystique with electrifying finesse. Their renditions of classics such as “Jeepster” and “I Love to Boogie” stood as a testament to their unparalleled homage to the music legend.

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