It’s the first date of Manchester rockers Witch Fever’s European tour and things are off to an iffy start. Drummer Annabelle Joyce has food poisoning. It was touch’n’go whether the band would play. But they do. Singer Amy Walpole advices us that Joyce may need to leave and puke at any point. But the crop-haired drummer’s made of sterner stuff. They hold their own. The band shaves two songs off the set but it matters little. Witch Fever rock.
But let’s rewind. Support act Cowboy Hunters have a buzz growing. It’s easy to see why. The Glasgow duo are an original. They appear to an initially ambivalent audience in this 200-cap upstairs venue, go straight into the crowd, and perform a half-hearted, self-conscious dance routine to German cheese-core act Scooter’s 2008 Euro-banger “Jumping All Over the World”. “A wee joke” say drummer Desmond Johnson as they clamber back onstage.
They kick off with “Money for Drugs”, giving Kneecap vibes. They’re a two-person gang. Johnson (pictured above, albeit playing bass), with a blond not-yet-mullet, in a Toronto Raptors vest, is energetic and giggly. Megan Pollock (pictured below) – long hair, bowl fringe, pierced eyebrows, multiple tats, including black-sleeved entire lower right arm – has a presence that’s simultaneously belligerent, sullen, and world-weary. It’s her stage armour and it works.
“Any Lady Gaga fans in?” she says, at one point, to a cheer. Then, “Fuck Lady Gaga!”. At another, “This is our last song.” A cheer. “Just kidding – idiots!” In this age where 90% of bands suck up to the audience like we’re all in some light entertainment hell, it’s refreshing.
As are their drums-and-bass-backed, potty-mouthed songs. “The world’s fucked so let’s all get cunted,” runs “Have a Pint”. And they swig tinnies throughout – also welcome in our tedious gym’n’coffee times. Halfway through, they swap instruments and are equally capable, their rhythmic sound mingling barked raps, explosion of punk noise, and shouty, ribald choruses.
They conclude saying that this really is their final song. The sound system plays a hard-dance version of DJ Casper’s millennial primary school party monster “Cha Cha Slide”. They slowly put their kit away, post-gig, making occasional dance-adjacent gestures. The crowd stays, watching bemused, until they’ve finally packed up and leave. It’s a brilliant Dada-ist gag, and I’ve never seen a band do it before.
Witch Fever (pictured above) have quite an act to follow, and they do so with aplomb. For starters, they look great, like a band, rather than rando’s in leisurewear, like many contemporary bands. Frontwoman Amy Walpole is affably charismatic, eyes wide and present, a bright red line made-up under her lower lip. She wears a black cropped tee and pants (Brit definition) embossed with glitter and ribbons. Her hair is unique, curtains bobbed high and fluffy, at jawline level, with two long plaits down each side. When a crowd member shouts, “Love the haircut,” she responds, “It was an accident.”
They kick off with, “Dead to Me”, the scorching opener to last autumn’s Fevereaten album, from which most of their set is drawn. On record, the dirgey, heavy metal aspect is to the fore but, live, these songs take on new life, often boasting a real post-punk roll. Bassist Alex Thompson, a striking, tattooed, Cleopatra-eyelinered gothic in an off-the-shoulder top, comes into her own on cuts such as “Safe”, driving the gig forward with propulsive, fluid and, yes, funky playing.
All night there’s been an issue with the crowd being sedentary. It’s the BBC 6Music dad/grandad issue again. Middle-aged men standing still, watching. I’m surprised there are so many of them. I expected a younger crowd. I’d hazard the audience is three-fifths 50+-years-old and two-fifths young fans (including a good smattering of the queer and trans community, with whom the band has strong connections).
A few songs in, Walpole encourages movement. She’s successful and moshing begins. Unfortunately, the BBC 6Music dads stay stolid near the front, pushing the action to the back of this curiously shaped venue, so that the crowd is crashing into the feeble crash barrier protecting the sound and lighting desks. I spend much of the gig helping protect these from flailing bodies as I scribble, my foul peach-flavoured ale pint being knocked entirely all over me.
But no complaints. The gig has come alive. Guitarist Alisha Yarwood, clad in an oversized leather jacket, black shirt and red tie, attacks her instrument with gusto, carving out doomy patterns on the slow-rolling “Amber”. She’s also great when they return to the the religion-rejecting title track of their debut album, Congregation, all moody Cocteau Twins-ish clanging, until it explodes to something harsher.
Witch Fever may have had to cut the gig slightly short due to their drummer’s health, but they deliver, closing on full-on rock-out “I See It”. Probably for the best. Had it gone on longer and thrashier, the entire technical set-up at the back may have been overwhelmed by falling, head-banging bodies. Instead, a sweaty, exhilarated crowd wander off into the biblical rainfall of the Nottingham night.
Below: Watch the video for "Dead to Me" by Witch Fever
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