Festival Review: The Great Escape // Brighton // May 2026
Twenty years ago, the very first edition of The Great Escape festival was held in Brighton, kickstarting two decades of unrivalled musical discovery. In the intervening years, the new music extravaganza has shone an early spotlight on an extensive list of future stars, with the likes of Adele, Ed Sheeran, Raye, Charli XCX and Fontaines D.C. all playing at the start of their careers.
Joining a large percentage of the semi-mythical Music Industry, we returned to Brighton’s fabled shores to catch the next wave of artists in ascension.
Like last year, we start our four-day delve into what’s next on the familiar pebbles of Brighton beach. Unlike last year, it’s absolutely pissing down. Huge gusts of wind from the crashing sea make it a bold choice to join the queue for buzzy math rock duo Angine de Poitrine, and that’s before it starts to hail. Nonetheless, by the time the storm clears a large line has formed, reflecting just how hyped the enigmatic French-Canadian duo have become in recent months.
When we finally make it into the Deep End tent, it’s already rammed, though that doesn’t stop a seemingly never-ending number of people piling in. By the time the band take to the stage, it truly is like a tin of sardines. Walking out to huge cheers from the crowd, the masked duo inevitably make a visual impact, with their polka-dot costumes and extensive head gear making it look as though Inside Out’s Bing Bong merged with Mr Blobby in some sort of psychedelic experiment gone wrong. Not to mention that when they do occasionally ‘speak’, it sounds like a Dalek without a dictionary. Oh, and their triangle shaped ‘eyes’ sporadically light up yellow. You’d be forgiven for thinking you’d accidently walked onto the set of a sci-fi movie, but no, this is a gig, although not a traditional one - at least as far as festivals go.
Aside from a gurgle here and there, the set is entirely instrumental. Luckily, the musicianship on display is interesting in and of itself, even if the actual music won’t be for everyone. At once intricate and hook-laden, dynamic and repetitive, it’s a fascinating study in how much two extremely talented musicians can achieve in a live setting, with bass loops acting as the groundwork for increasingly complex guitar parts and precision drumming. At any other festival in the UK, it’s hard to say quite how this would be received, but here at Brighton’s tastemaker showcase the audience are, for the most part, utterly enthralled.
Unsurprisingly, Angine de Poitrine have amassed a dedicated cult following, and the fans show their appreciation by making a triangle with their hands, mirroring the band’s signature gesture. Some even go so far as to gurgle back to the pair in their own brand of gobbledygook. It’s a weird and wonderful start to the festival, and a timely reminder that at The Great Escape, anything goes.
Thursday begins with a very different but equally provocative experience. We descend into a dark and relatively full Komedia Basement at 1pm, just as Australian punk-rapper Mudrat is being introduced. Wearing a white t-shirt emblazoned with red lettering that spells ‘Kill All The Billionaires’, it’s immediately obvious that this will be an incendiary set.
Backed by crunchy riffs and pounding drums, he spits out impassioned rebuttals of wealth inequality and political corruption with a venomous velocity, before his drummer takes things down a notch with a surprisingly melodic vocal performance. It’s not long before we’re back in the mixer though, Mudrat peppering the set with socio-political statements which give extra context to the punchy songs on display. It’s uncompromising stuff, pairing nicely with our first pints of the day, and waking us up with a welcome jolt.
There’s more energy in store for us at The Prince Albert, the beloved multi-coloured pub which is home to Banksy’s famous ‘Kissing Coppers’ stencil. We manage to squeeze into its packed upstairs venue as Cork City five-piece Babyrat soundcheck, much to our (and their) amusement. Once they’re off, however, there’s no stopping them. Lively frontwoman Zoe Callanan is a hugely entertaining presence, bouncing around the stage as her bandmates provide tight, driving rhythms. Lyrically, her witty tales of love and rejection recall the likes of Olivia Rodrigo, and the band have certainly taken inspiration from Rodrigo’s smart update of 90s & 00s pop-punk. It all makes for a rather electrifying set, with an orchestrated singalong and earworm finale (the unreleased ‘First To Know’, which already feels like a classic) leaving punters on a high as they filter down the steps and out onto the damp streets of Brighton.
We jump straight in a cab to catch the end of Japanese MC-rock duo EMNW at Revenge, who have the place jumping with their high-octane mix of rap and nu-metal. After a quick lunch break (Tapas, since you’re asking) we walk down to seafront nightclub Quarters, only to find a large queue that shows no sign of shrinking. Our fellow festival goers quickly inform us that the venue isn’t letting anyone in yet, while the sun finally starts to peek through the clouds, as if to celebrate the fact that we haven’t missed rising Argentinian rockers Pacifica. The start time comes and goes, and just as everyone is wondering whether to cut their losses and move onto one of the nearby venues, three people rush up to the door, explaining to the bouncers that they’re meant to be performing. Two minutes later we’re in, another two, and Pacifica are reminding us exactly why we waited.
Originally formed as a cover band - after internet friends Inés Adam and Martina Nintzel met in real life to share their love of The Strokes - Pacifica built their following covering noughties indie classics, before releasing two albums of original material. That garage rock spirit is clear to hear as the duo (accompanied by their drummer) launch into their set under smoky blue light.
Adam’s guitar playing is casually kinetic, all bright, propulsive chord work, while Nintzel’s bobbing bass style perfectly complements each song. The two trade vocal duties, keeping the set dynamic despite every track drawing more or less from the same well. Thankfully, that well is effortlessly melodic, with a lightness of touch that keeps the crowd grooving, not least during disco-stomper ‘Indie Boyz’, a vintage floor-filler which nods to Arctic Monkeys’ ‘Old Yellow Bricks’.
The next track ‘Fixer Upper’ is so Strokes-like that it’s almost a surprise Casablancas and co didn’t write it. Indeed, these two friends from Argentina have mastered the indie sleaze formula where many NYC wannabes have failed. They may have begun by just wanting to be one of The Strokes, but Pacifica are a band who will surely inspire devotees of their own.
After that it’s a 10 second walk to Players, where Peterborough lad Raynor delivers an uplifting set of simple-but-effective indie pop tunes, before we make the trek to Brighton’s end-of-pier bar Horatios to catch self-proclaimed cool girl Lynnie Snow. With a striking look reminiscent of Debbie Harry, Snow immediately captures the crowd’s attention, compounding it with a selection of songs which are as offbeat as they are beautiful.
Next up is enthralling singer-songwriter Ava Joe, bringing her chic, atmospheric style to Patterns’ upstairs space. Taking to the stage in an elegant red dress, Joe is clearly inspired by the glamour of old Hollywood, and those nostalgic sensibilities also make their way into her music. ‘Black Smoke’ finds her bandmates re-purposing the iconic James Bond chord progression while she sings -in a delicate voice dripping with drama - of a dangerously intoxicating relationship. It’s easy to imagine her rising to the challenge of a Bond theme in 10 or 15 years, though that’s not her only speciality.
‘Lost In The Woods’ has more of a freewheeling Woodstock vibe, while closing number ‘Try Me’ has the sensual swagger of Amy Winehouse’s ‘You Know I’m No Good’. Perhaps the most appropriate comparison, though, would be Lana Del Rey. Joe shares the Californian singer’s love of melding vintage moods with a more modern sense of melancholy, leading some to dub her as a UK Del Rey. Whether Ava Joe can break through to that sort of chart-topping, stadium-filling success remains to be seen. Judging by the mesmerised audience, however, it’s a career trajectory that’s very much to play for.
In a screeching change of tone, we then rush down to nearby nightclub Volks to catch the tail end of Australian-born, Greek-raised hard rockers Frenzee. As usual at the Great Escape, rave central Volks is now the go-to destination for rock, punk and metal lovers. Frenzee combine elements of all three genres with a ferocious energy, exemplified by their exceptional lead shouter Apollonia, who stalks the stage while her brothers Nikos and Adonis provide filthy riffs and pummelling percussion.
When Apollonia announces that they’ll be playing an unofficial gig at Brighton’s legendary Irish bar Fiddlers Elbow at 12:30 am, we rejoice. If ever a band was destined to smash beyond the confines of official limitations, it’s Frenzee. Before that, though, we have a couple more acts to discover, so we head to the Waterbear venue to wind down with the slick confessional pop of Lily Moore. Afterwards, it’s up to The Green Door Store for Canadian hardcore punks Piss -although getting in to see them proves near impossible.
Even after making it in the venue, the queue to get into the actual performance space stretches to the bar, and though we do eventually get to the very back, it’s hard to experience the band in the way they must’ve intended. What is clear is that they’re passionate about what they do, and all the more popular for it. More power to them, but for us Thursday’s true crescendo is a riveting second helping of Frenzee. Unleashed in a crowded Fiddler’s Elbow, the trio are utterly exhilarating, facilitating makeshift mosh pits and audience crowd-surfs as Apollonia snarls her way through a set of pure, unfiltered firepower.
Frenzee are every bit as impressive as the awesome Amyl and the Sniffers - who of course have gone on to achieve significant mainstream success from similarly DIY beginnings - so to be there, deep in the mix as Apollonia ends the show with a triumphant closing crowd surf, feels like lightning in a bottle. Not a bad way to conclude our first full day at the festival.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, Friday gets off to a relatively slow start, as we recover from our hangover with copious amounts of tea, chocolate and Frasier. When we do make it out mid afternoon, it’s straight down to Komedia to check out the hotly tipped Heidi Curtis. As we head down the stairs into the dark glow of the basement, it becomes clear that we’re not the only ones who have heard good things about Heidi. The room is heaving, and Curtis matches the sense of anticipation by making a big entrance after her bandmates have already assumed their onstage positions. With her ruffled sleeves and flowing curly hair, Curtis looks like she’s stepped straight out Fleetwood Mac, which is fitting as her music sounds like an amalgamation of the 70s rock icons and Florence + the Machine - also fitting, as Curtis will support the indie favourites on their Irish dates next month.
Like the titular Florence, Curtis possesses a powerhouse pair of lungs, switching from understated falsetto to commanding chest voice with ease. And that’s to say nothing of her songwriting prowess, which is of the very highest calibre. Closing song ‘Come Undone’ is so tightly written and performed that it feels like an understatement to call it a future classic. Like Curtis herself, ‘Come Undone’ is ready for the biggest stages, right now. As the extensive audience filters out into the light, everyone seems to share the opinion that what we just witnessed was truly, truly special. Distinctive, spiritual, and anthemic, Heidi Curtis is a fully formed star who seems destined for the Pyramid Stage.
It’s back to Patterns next, though this time we swap out the airy upstairs space for its grungy downstairs counterpart. The room is about half full, though its smaller size makes it feel pretty busy, which is just as well, as German punk Lina-Mariah hasn’t shown up to exchange niceties. Starting out with a selection of upbeat pop-punk tracks, Mariah, backed by her drummer and guitarist, is full-throttle from the off.
About four songs in, she takes things down with a quiet number that shows off how just capable she is as a pop singer, her emotive voice cutting through Patterns’ pint-stained purple hum. As if to solidify this, she holds the mic by her side, relying on pure projection to get her vocals out to the crowd. It’s a neat trick which has everyone leaning in, listening intently when... BAM! We’re shoved back in the mixer by forceful drums, grinding guitar and - most significantly - a side to Mariah’s voice we haven’t heard yet.
Suddenly it’s not talky and tongue-in-cheek, nor clean and delicate, but harsh and angst-ridden. Mariah takes us into this electrifying new section of the set with aplomb, switching effortlessly between finely tuned pop refrains and brutal, confrontational outbursts. All this is wrapped up in the melodic pop-punk sensibilities of before, combining to create a sound that is undeniably addictive, and dangerously alive.
Her lyrics, too, are vivid and uncompromising, with tracks addressing her psychotic mother and severe mental health struggles. Having said that, there’s a warmth to her performance which makes these songs a lot of fun to listen to, in a blackly comic kind of way. She’s also mastered the art of crowd interaction, telling us that she forgot to bring her passport, and was only allowed to stay in the country after officials saw her Great Escape confirmation letter!
She’s not afraid to get serious, either, prefacing her final song with the context that she wrote it to help her cope in the aftermath of an attack, dedicating the track to all women and girls who have suffered at the hands of men. It’s a powerful moment, and the song in question - last year’s ‘Girl With A Gun, Angry’ - feels all the bolder for it. Beginning with hushed vocals before exploding in a cacophony of screams and guitar, it’s ridiculously catchy, but also suitably nerve-shredding. Concluding with the kind of guttural scream which can only come from deep in the soul, Mariah ends the set having totally won over a largely unsuspecting crowd, in the middle of the afternoon, no less.
Feeling a little frazzled (in a great way) we step outside and take stock. After a quick trip to the cultural institution that is Quadrophenia alleyway, we head down to Quarters for something completely different: LA singer-songwriter Arima Ederra. Clad in a sparkly silver tie and accompanied only by a laptop, Ederra represents the modern way of making music. Unfortunately, there are some technical issues early on, but once she has her backing tracks lined up, she delivers a stylish set of soothing, understated soul.
After that it’s off to Volks, where another tonal 180 awaits, in the form of Scottish punks Cowboy Hunters. Composed of Megan Pollock and Desmond Johnston, the pair waste no time tearing into the dreaded Delegates (you know what, valid) as their boisterous brand of electro-tinged talk-punk kicks in. With Pollock and Johnston sharing not only vocals, but also drumming and bass duties, it’s a wildly entertaining set, only heightened by the pair’s brilliantly deadpan sense of humour.
A quick trip up to Komedia sees Irish duo Dea Matrona bring their sleek, guitar-driven harmonies to the basement, before Chicago-born, Manhattan-based Ally Nicholas takes centre stage at a packed-out Daltons. Almost like Billie Eilish if she made a full-on rock record, Nicholas is a very natural presence, not opting for theatrics of any sort, but instead offering up a selection of rocky-yet-relaxed grunge gaze songs, much to the delight of the audience. The time flies by, and before we know it we’re walking down to the beach to catch Villanelle.
Now, the elephant in the room is that the trio are fronted by Gene ‘son of Liam’ Gallagher, which has obviously attracted some criticism, but also a significantly larger crowd than usual at the smaller Soundwaves stage. And yes, watching Gene perform is like seeing (and hearing) a ghost of the Oasis frontman circa 1994. But thankfully, the band don’t attempt to imitate Uncle Noel’s generational classics, instead opting for a grungy, Nirvana inspired sound that’s actually not half bad.
After that it’s a race up to the Brighthelm Centre, which takes a moment to find as it’s tucked away down an alley. Once we do find it, we quickly realise an unfortunate fact - so did everybody else. The delegate wristband comes in extremely handy here (sorry Cowboy Hunters), as Georgian soul man Brother Wallace has already been on for about 15 minutes. It’s not long before we’re whisked into a room that, while technically a community centre, now feels like a church, with Wallace’s gospel-infused songs filling the air. Backed by a talented band and trio of backing singers, Wallace radiates pure joy, his expressive voice eliciting abandon amongst almost every punter.
As vibrant multi-coloured lights shine down from the ceiling, the songs keep getting funkier, and the atmosphere increasingly communal, until we're all repeating after Wallace and clapping our hands in unison. This is one of the few sets which could go on for hours without complaint, but all good things must come to an end, and so it does.
While people pile out onto the darkened streets of Brighton, we realise that Lina-Mariah is playing again, just round the corner at The Hope and Ruin. We head upstairs for round two, making our way through a jam-packed room already in thrall to her spirited performance. The only discernible difference from earlier is that she’s clad in a red leather jacket as opposed to a black one, though of course, the energy that comes from playing to a full venue takes her crowd-friendly anthems to an even higher level.
We’re considering calling it a night when Dutch trio Fellatio saunter onto the stage, like the drunk pirates they’re seemingly dressed as. One of those bands that are probably a lot more fun live than on record, they keep Hope and Ruin swinging until the early hours with a surreal mix of disco sleaze and sea shanty chic. Frontman Abel has a touch of Jarvis Cocker about him, doing away with his shirt but never his captain hat, naturally. It’s an infectiously weird, surprisingly danceable set, and a great way to bid adieu to another eye-opening day at The Great Escape.
As you may well have guessed, Saturday gets off to an even slower start than Friday. Pleasingly, Brighton’s own Opal Mag are on hand to guide us, gently, into the final day of the festival, their melodic, shoegaze adjacent soft-rock working wonders under the purple neon of Komedia’s upstairs studio. After that, there’s a rare dry spot in the schedule, so everyone still gig-going heads down to Patterns to see Parade, who apparently consist of “musicians from jazz, electronic, punk and rock backgrounds”. Like so many of these ‘art-punk’ collectives, they turn out to be a lot less punk, and a lot more art.
Which is fine, except this description, paired with a lot of people at loose ends, has led to a room full of people who aren’t particularly interested in listening to a set full of hushed vocals and sporadic sax breaks. There’s an awkwardness in the air as a significant number of people realise what they’re in for, and promptly leave. Worse still, about half the people remaining proceed to talk loudly over what is supposed to be an intimate experience. It’s hard not to feel a bit sorry for the octet, though a severe lack of dynamics didn’t do them any favours.
The other option was the Australian Music Showcase on the beach, and as soon as we arrive on the pebbles to catch the tail end of rising indie-pop artist Charli Lucas, we instantly regret not joining sooner. Happily, she still has a few songs left, and her light, knowing pop songs prove to be the perfect antidote to the previous set. In particular, her signature tune ‘FKN EMBARRASSING’ is a total earworm, with some punters already singing the chorus back to her by the end of the performance.
We’re then informed by the showcase host - a genial middle-aged man with a penchant for a well-placed quip (think Bradley Walsh, but Australian) - that the final band of the showcase, Teenage Joans, will be on in 20 minutes. We use the time wisely by paying a visit to both the urinals and the bar, before taking our place a little way away from the stage. When the time comes to welcome the Adelaide duo onstage, our host encourages everyone to get down the front and “huddle like penguins”, in order to counter the cold wind whipping over the beach.
The huddling never materialises, but people do move much closer to the stage, and we end up stood right by the barrier as the pop-punk pair launch into their latest single ‘Coming Up From Hell’. It’s a ferociously fun opener, introducing us to the interplay between guitarist Cahli Blakers and drummer Tahlia Borg, who share vocal duties.“This beach is a bit different from the ones we’re used to in Australia”, laughs Blakers, who goes on to express her love for “the UK, and your Sainsburys meal deals”, prompting laughter from the windswept crowd. “I got shat on by a pigeon in London”, adds Borg. “It’s not good luck”, grins Blakers. “That’s just something you guys say to make yourselves feel better”.
We’re treated to many such observations throughout the set, and it’s incredibly endearing. The pair have a natural charisma which makes them easy to root for, though even if they didn’t, the songs speak for themselves. Fast-paced, hook-laden and propelled by a fizzing energy, tracks like ‘Bandits’ connect exceptionally well in a live setting. There’s a primal fascination in hearing Blakers hit the high notes of the chorus, with one of those vocals which sounds like it could crack at any moment, though of course it never does, creating an incredibly satisfying sonic tension. Her guitar solos are also a joy to experience close up, all high kicks and quick jumps, à la Townshend & Weller. As Junior Soprano might say, Teenage Joans can fucking sell it.
Another change of pace follows, as we shelter from the rain in the Deep End tent, where London 8-piece Orchard are just getting started. Boasting a buoyant three-person horn section, talented guest vocalist, and exceptionally adventurous bassist, the band sound like a sunny day. Although they describe themselves as jazz, their set sidesteps the (perhaps unfair) public perception of the genre as pseudo-intellectual ‘lift music’, instead serving up the party-starting grooves more commonly associated with funk and soul. It’s a wonderful half hour, so uplifting that you almost expect the sun to come out in approval. It doesn’t, but we head to Volks regardless, in the hope of catching Belgian rockers Arson.
When we arrive a good five minutes prior to the start time, the band are already well underway, with people piling into the increasingly limited space. Luckily, there’s a viewpoint near the bar which looks directly onto the stage, so we join the other punters watching from afar. All dressed in brown waistcoats and sporting ties, the 5-piece might look like a 60s throwback band, but they sure don’t sound like one.
Built on a filthy concoction of pummelling drums, relentless guitar, and raw, screamy vocals, their sound is like a mix of Motorhead and The Hives. Every member exudes unbelievable levels of energy, with frontman Jeroen Vraken quite literally climbing up the walls, performing up there for a while, then launching himself into the crowd, who duly catch him. Back on the ground, he takes a swig from his bottle of Jack Daniels, before offering it out to those in the raging pit. It’s sweaty, bombastic stuff, leaving you with the impression that people must simply be built different in Belgium.
A quick walk up the Pier proves to be a rather majestic experience, the dark, stormy sea lending Brighton’s most recognisable feature an almost gothic quality. We only catch the final song of New Jersey born, Brighton based Lonnie Gun, but the atmosphere set by the walk up is a fitting match for Gun’s brand of fuzzy alt-pop.
We pop into post-metal trio Psychonaut on the way to Congratulations at Quarters, where the in-your-face four-piece have quite a party going, at least for their numerous fans in the building. A short cab ride up to The Hope and Ruin allows us to catch the end of Yorkshire band The Slates, who sort of sound like Arctic Monkeys covering Limp Bizkit, if you can imagine such a thing.
At this point we’re exhausted, after three days of almost non-stop walking, drinking, and headbanging. It’s been amazing, but a burger and bed seems like an increasingly tantalising prospect, until we notice that the next band have apparently been endorsed by Noel Gallagher. We decide to get one last pint, and settle in for the appropriately named Cusp.
It’s the right call. Fronted by singer-songwriter Dan Stock, Cusp cut through the lively late-night crowd with their nicely layered, effortlessly anthemic indie rock sound. They’re not flashy or provocative, but they’ve perfected their particular craft, which counts for a lot. As their catchy chord progressions ring out across the room, we reflect on what has been yet another fantastic long weekend in Brighton.
Twenty years on from its very first edition, The Great Escape feels more vital than ever. In a creative climate in which small venues are under siege, popular tickets increasingly unaffordable, and AI ‘artists’ shoved down our throats by those who only care about their bottom line, it remains an essential reminder of just how much genuine, human talent is still out there, just waiting to be discovered.
Words by Ben Left
