Music / Reviews
Review: Heavy Lungs, the Louisiana – ‘If in doubt go into a tiny room and sweat it out with strangers’
Sometimes a gig exceeds your expectations and sometimes your mate carries the drummer out of the venue.
This was a secret gig wasn’t it? I’m not sure if it was or not, but it sold out, so it must have done the trick. Having two of Bristol’s finest helps, with Milo’s Planes and Heavy Lungs playing a homecoming gig to see out January and all its stupid blues.
It’s Independent Venue Week and the Louisiana is the best place to be. Fuck the Bristol Arena – this is where music is born.
Milo’s Planes are fronted by Joe Sherrin, the singer with Bristol band Mould which plays a sold out show at Crofters at the beginning of March
Up first and loud it’s Milo’s Planes. This gig finds the band on the eve of recording their first new material since Belly in 2022.
Their set is bursting at the seams with new songs, ideas and lyrics. Singer Joe Sherrin admitted to writing and attempting to learn some of the lyrics on the day of the gig.
If anyone hadn’t heard Milo’s Planes before, set opener Catalyst makes their sound crystal clear, smashing together a mix of At the Drive In & Fugazi, loud and ear plug-busting.
Ghost is built upon a rumbling funk bassline, left to breathe at points before being blown to pieces by double drums and Sherrin’s frantic and frenetic vocals.
The band took the opportunity to try out some new material
Milo’s Planes’ songs change dynamically throughout, abruptly switching styles as if to let each member have the spotlight, letting each instrument tell its crazed story then colliding back together in a mass of riffing brilliance.
The second half of the set sees the new material take precedence as they blast though two minute punk rock songs, one of which seems to be called Rock DJ, though this may be a working title.
I’m very keen to see what comes out of the band’s long overdue recording session, taking place possibly as I write this. Milo’s Planes – all the songs, none of the merch. Sort that out!
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The place now resembles a sold out Louisiana, with upstairs and down both full of Heavy Lungs fans.
I admit this gig found me in a lacklustre state, wondering if the crowd would be lively or just head nodders.
Heavy Lungs frontman Danny Nedelko thankfully makes this impossible. His stage presence is one of angry, lustful humour as he flails his limbs, cavorts and winks, with his groin never too far from my face.
Danny Nedelko, immortalised in an Idles song, never fails to put on a good show
All Gas No Breaks drops like a January rain, bass player James Minchall swinging and chucking his bass around with all the joy of someone discovering it for the first time. He eats his guitar strap and swipes the guitar, narrowly missing everyone each time.
Amid the chaos drummer George Garratt, dressed in sweatshirt and a pair of Thai boxing shorts, has a demonic look on his face as he delivers impromptu dodgy rapping to the tune of Kelis’s Milkshake.
The band have cult status in Bristol
It’s time for tops off now as we get down to business with a blitz of Heavy Lungs bangers. Nedelko has his sights set on the front row. He’s very rarely not in it or on it. He grabs at the front, yanking them nose to nose and screaming into their skulls.
The blitz sees Caviar into Dancing Man into Mr Famous. The crowd is split in two and reunited in a mass of tangled bodies parts.
The sweaty high energy gig is the perfect antidote to the January blues
Saunas are all the rage in Bristol at the moment: come to the Louisiana and you get music as well. It’s RIP to the air con as one crowdsurfer rips a piece off and chucks it on stage – a very happy accident.
More sad news sees the farewell of guitarist Ollie who is set to leave the band, this being his last Bristol show. There was talk of him surfing the crowd but instead Nedelko leaps on us as we support him throughout (a bit of) Birthday.
Band and audience got involved in the crowdsurf
Heavy Lungs are danceable, moshable and enjoyable, all wrapped up in a bundle of heavy punk rock.
If in doubt, go into a tiny room and sweat it out, jumping with strangers. Dry January ends soaked in sweat and smiling.
All images: Matt Barnes
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