Live Review: Sprints – Patterns, Brighton 09/04/2024
Karla Chubb is not to be trifled with. The lead singer and guitarist of Irish rockers Sprints has just called out a middle-aged catcaller with her trademark ferocity. “Are you seriously going to catcall me during a feminist song?”, she sighs disappointedly. There’s no apology from the man in question. “Do I need to send you to the back?”. She isn’t asking. Embarrassed by this public dressing down, the man quietly slinks to the back with his tail between his legs. It won’t, unfortunately, be the last we see of him.
At the start of the evening, no one could’ve predicted the course it would take. Brighton’s 320 capacity venue Patterns is filling up nicely, with some ticketless punters asking if there’s any on the door. There isn’t. The Dublin four-piece have sold it out, like the rest of their UK tour. The atmosphere inside is one of fervent anticipation, with friends and couples getting their drinks in, preparing themselves for the high-octane garage punk to come. The ever-increasing crowd- a diverse bunch, from the alternative girls to the 6 Music dads- are in high spirits. You’d be forgiven for assuming it was a Friday or Saturday night, not a Tuesday.
Into this buzzy scene step goth-grunge outfit Venus Grrrls, launching straight into the ethereal pop-rock of ‘Divine’. Hailing from Leeds, the all-girl 5 piece are a magnetic presence from the off, their gothic fashion sense and Riot Grrrl sound equally captivating, and brilliantly complementary. Lead singer Grace Kelly (AKA GK) moves effortlessly between angelic falsetto and raspy, earth-shattering head voice, recalling Jeff Buckley at his most audacious. If that sounds like hyperbole, it isn’t. Go and see for yourself - her vocal control is just astonishing. The rest of the band drive the songs forward with sparkling synths and dangerous riffs alike, resulting in an enthralling cacophony of punk, goth, pop, and grunge. The crowd are impressed, to say the least.
When GK introduces a cover of Siouxsie and the Banshees’ ‘Spellbound’, no one is surprised: Venus Grrrls feel like spiritual successors to such classic goth bands, as well as Riot Grrrl trailblazers like Bikini Kill. “Can we be friends? / Take my shoes out on lend/ Play some Siouxsie Sioux / And pretend that we’re cool”, sings GK on final track ‘Goth Girl’. At this stage, there’s no need to pretend. It’s wonderfully obvious that Venus Grrrls are one of the coolest bands to emerge in years.
It surely won’t be long before queen Siouxise herself champions them.
In the 20-minute break before Sprints take the stage, a seemingly unending flow of people pile in. When Kid Kapichi sold out their debut album Patterns gig - Sprints are here in support of their debut LP, ‘Letter to Self’ - it was busy, but not like this. The place is absolutely rammed, from the barrier all the way up to the very back steps. As the tongue-in-cheek intro of ‘Murder on the Dancefloor’ rings out, you can sense that this is going to be a gig to remember. And it is.
Without a word, the band - consisting of bassist and co-vocalist Sam McCann, guitarist Colm O’Reilly, drummer Jack Callan, and, of course, Chubb – plug in and dive into the brooding build of ‘Ticking’. Callan’s hypnotic drum beat kicks the song off, guiding it through its steady ascent, which ends with a brief but brutal full-band workout, before they switch seamlessly into the next song ‘Heavy’. Possibly the best track on ‘Letter to Self’, it’s another slow-burn which really takes off live, the crowd bellowing back its “1,2,3” chant with aplomb, before the raw, rousing chorus sends those who came to mosh into the wild pit they’ve been waiting for.
There’s barely time for them to catch their breath before Chubb and co. tear into ‘I’m in a band’, from 2022’s ‘A Modern Job’ EP. A deliciously sardonic response to the same old questions she’s sick of hearing, the song crackles with dry wit: “Everybody asks are you in a band? / Yeah I’m in a band/ Everybody asks are you any good? / Yeah I think we’re good”, she drawls over McCann’s fuzzy bassline, before the chorus explodes with repressed frustration. It’s fair to say that Chubb isn’t the only one who thinks Sprints are good - just three songs into their set, and they have everyone on side.
Well, almost everyone.
It’s at this moment that the man in his mid-fifties pipes up. “You’re coming over the barrier”, he says to Chubb in a manner which feels strangely serious, and rather threatening. “Nah I’m alright here”, she replies, but he isn’t taking no for an answer. When she quite rightly refuses to oblige, he wolf whistles her. The room goes silent as she confronts him, and from here on in there is, unsurprisingly, noticeable tension in the air. “This one’s for all the men in the front row losing their hair, making me lose my will to live”, she retorts before launching into a ridiculously relevant- and particularly angry- rendition of feminist anthem ‘Adore Adore Adore’. “Well, do you adore me? / Does this picture now not suit your taste/ Have I disgraced what you built with your very eyes?”, she snarls in what feels like a direct response to his blatant sexism. It’s enough to shut him up for the time being, but the atmosphere has shifted.
This intensity spills over into ‘Cathedral’, a dark exploration of Chubb’s experiences growing up queer in Catholic Ireland. The amusingly titled ‘Delia Smith’ is also explosive, with its IDLES-esque instrumentation and revealing lyric “Who wants to be different anyway? Me, fucking me, and I’m not ashamed”. It’s the kind of ambition most post-punk acts wouldn’t care to admit, but with her striking red hair and stylishly unzipped Metallica jacket, Chubb is clearly- refreshingly- embracing the rock star life. “We’ve got you all warmed up, but we’re gonna do a slow one now, sorry”, smiles McCann, introducing the subdued yet spirited ‘Shaking Their Hands’. Next up is the subtle ‘Shadow of a Doubt’, which nods to the Sex Pistols’ ‘Pretty Vacant’ in its delicate riff. Apparently, according to one disgruntled older man (most likely the same loudmouth as before), this is unacceptable. “Oh here we go”, he shouts sarcastically, implying that Sprints should either cover ‘Pretty Vacant’ or leave it alone completely, rather ironic considering Glen Matlock openly admits to borrowing the riff from ABBA’s ‘SOS’ for the Pistols classic.
In any case, the catcaller appears to have made his way down to the front again, a troubling turn which gives the next song ‘Can’t Get Enough of It” an eerie power, Chubb’s declaration that “This is a living nightmare/ And I am living so scared”, uncomfortably close to the bone. “Didn’t I ask you to go to the back?”, she challenges. “Relax”, he replies dismissively. Chubb doesn’t take well to his condescending attitude. “Is it really not possible to dance without the misogyny?”, she asks, exasperated that archaic attitudes are threatening to overshadow what should be a triumphant evening. “That seems reasonable”, a different older man agrees.
‘Up and Comer’ transferers this fury into a thrilling musical fuck you, Chubb’s vocals gritty and emotive as she channels all her anger into song. “I wear your smile like it’s a runner, your despise like a badge of honour/ They say she’s good for an up and comer”, she growls pointedly, the lyrics acting (once again) as a blunt rebuttal of the man’s behaviour. By this point, some of the decent men down the front have taken issue with the man on Chubb’s behalf, and as she howls with rage over crashing drums and scratchy guitars, the place really does feel like it could combust at any minute. The situation is depressing, but the performance is utterly exhilarating.
Everyone is on edge as the song draws to a dramatic, distorted close, and sure enough, the man pipes up again, his words incompressible, but their meaning all too obvious. The crowd has had enough. “Oh fuck off, mate”, one man interrupts. He’s met with slurred screams before an army of other voices join him in telling the man-child where to stick it, and it’s not long before he cracks under the communal pressure. “Oh, fuck you then”, he screams at Chubb before storming out to a chorus of boos. Glorious. ‘Letter to Self’ follows this, and with its themes of perseverance, self-acceptance, and triumph over adversary, it couldn’t feel more fitting. “You took my hopes and suffocated them to fears/ [..] But I am alive”, sings Chubb with defiance. “Maybe my life don’t look like yours/ Maybe I don’t wanna look like you”, she spits as the song builds to an empowered crescendo. The man may have left, but every scathing lyric is still addressed to him- and all his kind.
Following this, Chubb leaves the stage, and for a moment it seems like she’s called the gig off early, and who could blame her. In fact, she’s gone to find GK of Venus Grrrls, who she brings on for a joyous cover of Le Tigre’s ‘Deceptacon’. Cowbell in hand, Chubb is relishing the chance to actually enjoy the gig, while GK bounces around with a huge grin on her face, living her Riot Grrrl dream. The positive energy is reciprocated by the audience, who sing along at the top of their lungs. A euphoric ‘Literary Mind’ is the crowning glory of the gig, with Venus Grrrls guitarist Eliza Lee joining, and Chubb prefacing the performance with a heartfelt message of unity, dedicating it to those who are marginalised in our society. For an evening which felt at times like it could end in violence, it’s a pleasant surprise that the overwhelming atmosphere at the end is one of hope. Having said that, there is a return to darkness as Chubb pours her soul into the foreboding extended intro of ‘Little Fix’, but it’s with good reason: once the song gets going, she heads over the barrier for an epic, subversive crowd surf. Like the man demanded, she did go over the barrier.
But having seen him out, she did so on her own terms.
Words by Ben Left
