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Review: Little Comets, Jam Jar – ‘An artful balance of playful, personal and political conversations’
What better way to spend the first stretched evening of 2025 than reliving summer festival memories of years gone by?
Tyneside based Little Comets emerged from the indie-rock scene in 2009, another quintessential group of lads that would go on to be an expected addition to festival line-ups.
Their first two albums arrived in quick succession, and contained a handful of tracks that encapsulate that nameless feeling of being sixteen and drinking warm ciders with the best people you know.
is needed now More than ever
Instead of a sea of sunburnt brits in a balmy tent at Reading and Leeds, the crowd at Jam Jar were kindred in their age and vibe. Bucket hats and sunnies swapped for microbangs and translucent rimmed specs, we were all a decade older but still eagerly anticipating the ensuing nostalgia this double headline set would provide.
Little Comets supported themselves, playing a solid nostalgia set and one with newer material, all of which gave the longstanding fans in attendance the feels
In a uniform of black t-shirts, Little Comets emerged onto the red hued stage and dived straight into the likes of Little Italy and Jennifer, the crowd unearthing lyrics that had sat dormant in their heads since 2012.
The band flit between crowd pleasers from In Search of Elusive Little Comets (2011) and Life is Elsewhere (2012) like Joanna and Adultery, welcomed with a cacophony of whoops, and newer tracks like American Tuna and the politically ambiguous King Prawn.
As a band their strength lies in their lyricism. They enact an artful balance of playful, personal and political conversations with their listeners.
One of their newest releases HIJKL is typical of this, beginning with “Now I burn another Union Jack” and closing with “Have I just killed love?”
Sandwiched between these lines are motifs of national tensions around British identity, the refugee crisis and the pull of a hopeful tomorrow, all married together with the slightly jarring chirpy sonics of a summery bassline.
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Instead of feeling disappointed that they hadn’t played some of their classics when they exited the stage, we just had a short pint break before they returned for an entirely new set.
The concept of an almost three hour set and no support was initially a hard sell for some of the band members. Lead vocalist Robert Coles eventually won them around by reminding them that all of their support acts “go on to be huge”, name dropping the likes of Sam Fender. Why not play the system and support themselves instead?
For their second set they came back with more energy, their harmonies tight and familiar and their geordie twangs adding to the punctuating political undercurrents in My Boy William, Violence Out Tonight and A bientôt.
As they sang Western Boy, a 2012 throwback, there was a poignant wistfulness in the room as the crowd joined in with “One day I’ll wake up and I won’t need you anymore”. Each song was a window to teenage years gone by, the lyrics keeping us tethered to the people we spent them with.
We got a taste of the band’s evolving sound as Mickey Coles swapped backing for lead vocals for the “fourth time ever”. He delivered a more folk-like sound with songs he’d penned alone in lockdown, supported heartily by his bandmates.
The venue was the perfect spot for a Sunday night gig, but felt almost too intimate for this length and style of set. The warm lit bulbs and jam jars dangling above and stage designed like a print you’d find at St.Nicks Market too soft and artsy for the energy in the room.
After an electric vibe and literal proposal in Brighton for their last gig, our cosy roomful at Jam Jar had a lot to live up to – and it was hard not to feel like we didn’t.
Between sips of Smart Water, frontman Coles reflected on how “polite” we were compared to the likes of crowds up North – their chants of “Yorkshire, Yorkshire, Yorkshire” swapped for a few shoulder shakes and the odd cheers.
Bathed in multicolour lights, we did our best to live up to our predecessors for the final two songs. The evening closed off with the highly anticipated crowd favourites of One Night in October and Dancing Song, a combination we’d been waiting for all evening.
It was no festival tent, but our bodies moved in erratic harmony to these songs from simpler times free from Brexit, lockdowns and the 7am alarm that would be coming for us all tomorrow morning.
All images: Andrea Loftus
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