Live Review: Cory Wells - Boston Music Rooms, London 08/10/2022
On the 8th of London, Cory Wells and Youth Fountain travelled to the Boston Music Rooms for a long overdue post-Covid return to the UK. Despite the show seeming somewhat cursed — the postponements from Lockdown restrictions back in February are understandable, but the recently announced train strikes in London landing squarely on the new London date seem either rotten luck or a cruel twist of fate — a fantastic night ensued, and we were lucky enough to be there.
Before getting onto the emo-screamo connoisseur that is LA-based singer-songwriter Cory Wells, however, let’s talk about Youth Fountain.
Not to add to the stereotype, but Vancouver-based Tyler Zanon is possibly the smiliest, friendliest frontman this side of Canada. Walking on stage, made seemingly solely of tattoos and smiles, his infectious joy at playing his set immediately converted anyone left in the room who didn’t already know him — though the large scene of emos at the front of the crowd ardently screaming along to every word suggested that there weren’t many of those present. As Tyler, under the name Youth Fountain, serenaded the crowd with his acoustic and heartfelt brand of pop-punk, it became obvious as to why Coryhad chosen him as his tour buddy. As well as letting the two coin the string of shows as their Hobbit tour — and the ring on Cory’s hand wasn’t the only reason — it was because Tyler, too, was a captivating and talented singer and storyteller. Strumming through a set laden with honesty, pain and hope in equal measures, the half an hour flew by painfully fast — from opener Rose Coloured Glass and new song Birthright to final track Deadlocked, Tyler’s half an hour was fantastic; and it was only made better when calls for a mosh pit to the still-acoustic-guitar-led Scavenger resulted in some humble and genuinely happy laughs from the stage. “It’s amazing seeing people actually caring about my music”, he told us at one point. Suffice to say it’s just as amazing hearing it!
Half an hour later, the audience slowly swelling as some more people found their way towards Tufnell Park, it was time for the main man himself. Walking sheepishly on stage, seemingly amazed that anyone had even turned up, Cory Wells had a gentle, almost incredulous way around him, as if he couldn’t quite believe that he was there, and that we were there, and that the show was happening.
And then he started playing, breaking into the relatively upbeat Patience, and any questions about nerves were immediately washed away. A sense of hope warred with painful loss in his voice, and, as the whole thing was reflected back at him by practically everyone in the room singing along, you could tell it was going to be special. Second song Keiko — already breaking away from the setlist aligned on the floor next to him, but then isn’t it more rock and roll to break even the rules you set yourself? — is just as good, with Cory serenading the crowd, the broken fantasy contained within the pseudo-love song bursting from his lungs, straining to be let out. Broken, played almost as both a promise and a love letter to a constant barrage of requests from fans for it to join the set, is almost jolly in its despondency; meanwhile, fourth track Fear was a deep cut in more ways than one, a throwback that still seemed to lacerate in its poignancy.
Yet for all the emotion and passion, it was the unreleased track, Hopeless, that was the first to truly hit hard. ‘I want to be something more than nothing’, he cried, ‘because I’m not anyone any more’. The fact that the track was unreleased, meaning no one knew the words, meant that weren’t any anthemic choruses to hide behind. Instead it was just one man, his guitar, and a set of lights beading down on him from across the stage. With the past few years leaving Cory uncertain whether he wanted to continue doing music, it was only his family that gave him hope to continue on; with many of them there on Saturday, travelling over as a family trip, the song’s dedication to his parents felt all the more significant.
The recently released Breathe Again was up next. Written about being in a relationship with someone you love, someone desperately unhappy through no fault of your own, and desperately wanting to help them, it’s at once both a devoted love song and an acknowledgment of helplessness. Following it up with the fan favourite — yet Cory-hated — End of a Good Thing, and the impressively-high-note-hitting Cement, it became obvious to everyone that the set was slowly, inevitably, coming to a close.
But there were still some special moments to come.
The next track was one of them: Harbor. If you haven’t listened to the lyrics, you might be forgiven for thinking it was the same as a lot of other slow, acoustic, sad songs. And yet, if and when you do, the heartbreak becomes palpable and you wonder how you ever missed it. Cory’s ‘favourite song’, written from the ‘deepest and darkest hole’ anyone could ever be in, and something that people can’t bear talking about. Harbor is somehow heart-crushingly, intensely relatable, and yet somehow so far separated from anything you can or will ever likely experience that it doesn’t bear thinking about — the death of your kid. And with each lyric wrenched from his mouth, you can tell that ever getting over it is a nigh-insurmountable, and probably unwanted task, especially peeling the scab back with the song each night. But the beauty still shines through.
Avoid The Blame and Wildfire followed in quick succession; both about the pain and heartbreak that comes with failed relationships — one leaving a wreck, and the other leaving a man filled with a scathing, vitriolic sort of hate — before it was time for the final song. After extracting a promise not to do the typical ‘one more song!’ chant from the rapt audience, and thanking everyone for being crazy enough to like his ‘bullshit’, it was time for Cory Wells to Walk Away.
To play the song, I mean, not to head off just yet. With a plea for everyone to be as loud as possible, the final few minutes felt almost rapturous, a hundred odd people singing and crying along one last time, punctuated by one final, brutal scream emanating from the stage, and a promise to come out after and take the time to meet everyone.
A fantastic night, taking advantage of the intimacy of the venue by having both sets completely stripped back — it’s just a shame there weren’t any songs to call the two on stage together.
Let's hope they both come back soon!
Words by James O’Sullivan
Photography by Kevin O’Sullivan
