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December 12, 2017

BREVIEW: Thomas Bock & Edmund Clark: In Place of Hate @ Ikon Gallery – running until 11.03.18

Words by Lucy Mounfield

Ikon Gallery’s latest programme introduces two individual exhibitions, showcasing the work of two seemingly discordant artists, packaged together tonight in a single opening event.

First up is Birmingham-born Thomas Bock (1793-1855), in the inaugural UK exhibition of his work. This collection forms a sort of retrospective, although it mainly spans the period after 1823 when Bock, an illicit abortionist, was convicted of ‘administering herbal concoctions with the intent to induce miscarriage’ and shipped to Australia for fourteen years. Bock was convicted during the tumultuous period of British settlement, and his reputation as one of the most important artists working during the colonial years is clearly identifiable in the many drawings, paintings and photographs on display. These works are in many ways not just a selection of his artistic output during his time in Australia, but a detailing of the sudden and chaotic change in both his personal and public life as a painter.

This sudden shift is made visible in the first room of the exhibition. One wall contains small landscape drawings of English villages and St. David’s Church (early 1820s), which are either quick sketches en plein air or from memory as he was making the journey from Birmingham to Van Dieman’s Land (now known as Tasmania). These works are small, detailed sketches, which showcase Bock’s skill, whilst the simplistic composition evokes the sense that they are distillations of his love for his England – the rural countryside scenes are idyllic as only memories can produce. Opposite are small portraits of aborigines; Larratung (larratong) (1832-1835) and Untitled, Wurati (woreddy) (1831) stare confidently outwards, meeting the gaze of the viewer, whilst forcefully confronting the earlier images of Bock’s homeland on the opposite wall. Wurati has a dominant posture and a commanding presence that confidently acknowledges the pride with which he holds himself. Taken together with the landscape sketches, these images confront the ideology of their time, of the undignified and primitive aboriginal people, and this curatorial trope heightens their aggressive gaze.

The exhibition separates several of Bock’s images into categories such as nudes, frontal portraits, landscapes, portrait profiles and families. Clear contrasts and comparisons are made between the English settlers and the aboriginal people, with the physical juxtapositions seeming to reinforce the democratic way in which Bock depicted both.

There are several pencil drawings of domestic scenes, including Woman and baby (1840), where a young woman is holding a small baby in their home. Here, the domestic space is the female space. Study of an aboriginal family (1832-35) is similar in and style – the small pencil drawing is an intimate depiction of family life. Whereas the English woman and baby are alone in the domestic space, the aboriginal family shows the father holding a spear in the foreground, whilst the mother and small child sit in the background. This is an outdoor scene and one that clearly identifies the roles taken within the family, with the father as the hunter and the mother the caregiver. Bock has treated this image in much the same way as the English familial scene and in doing so has imparted much of their character into the drawings.

There is a depth of warmth in these portraits of aboriginal people. Mithina (1842) is a watercolour portrait of a young Aborigine girl. It is a full-frontal portrait in an oval shape that replicates the intimacy of miniature paintings. The girl is wearing a red dress; her hands are clasped together and she is smiling outwards meeting the gaze of the viewer. Beneath that smile belies a self-consciousness that hints at the awkwardness she must have felt posing for a white man who is clearly in the position of authority, even if he was lower in rank to many of his colonialist countrymen.

In much the same way Bock treated the aborigine portraits, his portraits of the middle-class English women are skilfully treated – accents of white on lace in Woman with bonnet possibly Mrs. Georgina Butler (1840s) add characterful elements to the piece and accentuate her self-importance. However, his portraits of the aborigines are treated with much more depth and understanding. Where the Woman with bonnet included her accoutrements and trappings of wealth, the portraits of aboriginal people hold their weapons and wear their tribal clothing as a badge of honour. Their gaze does not arrest our sympathy, but asks us to look at them as we would our own countrymen and women – not as savages, ‘noble’ or otherwise, but as individuals.

Whilst Bock’s images of aboriginal people can be deemed dignified and aesthetically interesting, they are emblematic of the seriousness with which he took himself as an artist. The three hand-coloured daguerreotypes in the last room of the exhibition hint at his miniaturist background, but show his commitment to developing new techniques and processes. Together with the handwritten personal colour chart, they are evidence that Bock considered himself an artist rather than a convicted criminal. Van Dieman’s Land has become his home rather than his prison, and similarly he depicts the settlers and aboriginal people as individuals with respected traditions rather than as the warden and prisoner binary that so often characterises the period of the British settlement. With Bock’s personal understanding of this situation, he treats the portrait sitters with equal respect.

In much the same way as Bock depicts people as individuals, Edmund Clark, in his exhibition In Place of Hate, reappraises the prison system and the figure of the inmate. Edmund Clark is Ikon’s official artist-in-residence at HMP Grendon in Buckinghamshire, a role he has taken on since 2014 and will continue until 2018. Established in 1962, HMP Grendon uses a democratic and therapeutic approach to enacting punishment, asking the inmates to accept their prison sentence and to take responsibility for their crime.

Clark uses a sequence of rooms to portray the innovative prison system at Grendon. What struck me whilst walking through the rooms was that the structure and layout mirrors Foucault’s theory of the Victorian Panopticon – a prison design in which the centrally located warden can see everything at all times. Clark himself offers this view about the prison system at HMP Grendon:

This panopticon effect can clearly be seen in the second room, which has a circle of chairs with three video monitors on top of them. These video monitors represent the prisoners in group therapy and once I sat down, I too felt compelled to start talking and listening to the voices of the video as if I were joining in. The videos use actors to recreate stories from Greek tragedies. Mythologizing the prisoner’s experiences like this is an interesting way to convey their trauma and background without revealing private information. On the walls around the circle of chairs are posters entitled, ‘Therapeutic Community Model of Change’ and ‘Personality Pathway’. The posters provide a psychological background to the prison system and offer a pattern of abuse that suggests a prisoner has learnt behavioural methods from other people.

The prisoner mug shot is examined as an undermining and problematic image. Clark uses the image of a flower throughout the exhibition, to stand in for the traditional photograph of the prisoner. For me, the flower is a metaphor for how the inmate at HMP Grendon is treated and arguably how the penal system should consider the convicted criminal; much like a flower, the inmate can grow and flourish to their full potential. The first room contains a large white u-shaped structure that displayed pressed flowers. For me, each flower poignantly represents each prisoner at HMP Grendon.

The next room further explores the problematic issue of the public image of the prisoner. Four rectangular screens hang down from the ceiling and each one is playing a video that shows the inside and the outside parameters of the prison building. We see the interior from the perspective of an inmate and some parts of the videos are blurred, which is reminiscent of CCTV footage on news reports where the offender has been pixelated.

What looks like an empty prison building is populated by these pixelated figures, creating an eerie and dystopian atmosphere, ultimately alluding to the erasure of the prisoner from the consciousness of the both the public and the prison system itself. Similarly, the last room projects blurred mug shots of black and white figures onto fabric interspersed with images of flowers. These projections again hang from the ceiling, allowing the viewer to walk among them as if they are people. Our shadows are caught on the fabric and further blur the images. The criminal here appears as an absence. Who are they really? Clark’s exhibition can elicit such questions from the viewer, challenging us to re-evaluate what a prison should do.

The Thomas Bock and Edmund Clark: In Place of Hate exhibitions at Ikon Gallery can be viewed together or separately; they work well in their own right, but taken together can highlight themes of identity and representation. Running both exhibitions concurrently until March 11^th 2018, Ikon has presented a unique and thought-provoking exhibition program.

For more on the Thomas Bock exhibition, visit www.ikon-gallery.org/event/thomas-bock

For more on Edmund Clark: In Place of Hate, visit www.ikon-gallery.org/event/edmund-clark

For more on Edmund Clark. visit www.edmundclark.com

For more from the Ikon Gallery, including full event listings and online ticket sales, visit www.ikon-gallery.org

November 29, 2017

THE GALLERY: PVRIS @ O2 Academy Birmingham 23.11.17

Words & pics by Eleanor Sutcliffe

I doubt I’ve ever seen O2 Academy this busy. As we are filed into the venue, I’m truly surprised and slightly overwhelmed at the number of people who’ve come to see PVRIS tonight. In hindsight, this shouldn’t have been surprising – with frequent airplay on Radio 1, they’ve become a staple in the alternative rock scene and are gaining more and more fans by the minute.

First up was Tyne, a 19-year-old chill pop artist hailing from Cambridge. She set the bar exceedingly high for the evening – if you’re a fan of the likes of Lorde, Halsey and Gabrielle Aplin, then you’ll love her stuff. Tracks like ‘Crawl’ and ‘Girly’ crept under my skin and had me yearning to hear more, while her cover of Bring Me Horizon’s ‘Avalanche’ was executed to soul splitting perfection.

Tyne has the ability to combine meaningful lyrics with electronic rhythms without beating the life out of it like so many other artists do. She’s clearly destined for great things; I’d highly recommend catching her at a show and giving her a listen.

The next act couldn’t have been further from the last. COIN owned the stage for the next thirty minutes or so, belting out track after track of indie pop perfection. Their energy was intoxicating as singer, Chase Lawrence, cavorted across the stage, jumping on and off the drum kit to thrash out melodies on the synthesizers. The crowd adored it, dancing along to the summery beats of tracks like ‘Talk Too Much’. If the Arctic Monkeys and Circa Waves were to have a lovechild, then Nashville based COIN would be the result.

Then, finally… PVRIS. I’d heard mixed views of their live performances from friends and through work, and was really hoping for a show I could rave about for hours on end.

And to an extent, I could. Visually, the setup was stunning – strobe lights lit the stage while large screens projected flickering flames and embers as Lynn went to town on hits such as ‘St Patrick’ and ‘My House’. PVRIS’s setlist was varied enough to have a taste of their newer material from their latest release, All We Know Of Heaven, All We Need Of Hell, while still recalling back to tracks from White Noise.

However, Lynn’s gospel-like voice seemed to struggle at times against the heavy crescendo of guitar and drums from bandmates Alex and Brian. And although many members of the crowd were happy dancing at the front, I’d have enjoyed the show much more if I was sat up in the balcony of O2 Academy.

PVRIS more than made up for these few flaws, as I truly am nitpicking here. Their interaction with the crowd was heartfelt and genuine too, with Lynn exclaiming how, apart from at festivals, this was the largest crowd they had ever played to.

PVRIS @ O2 Academy Birmingham 23.11.17 / Eleanor Sutcliffe – Birmingham Review

For more on PVRIS, visit www.pvris.com

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COIN – supporting PVRIS @ O2 Academy Birmingham 23.11.17 / Eleanor Sutcliffe – Birmingham Review

For more on COIN, visit www.thisiscoin.com

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Tyne – supporting PVRIS @ O2 Academy Birmingham 23.11.17 / Eleanor Sutcliffe – Birmingham Review

For more on Tyne, visit www.officialtyne.com

For more from the O2 Academy Birmingham, including full event listings and online ticket sales, visit www.academymusicgroup.com/o2academybirmingham

November 18, 2017

BREVIEW: J Hus @ O2 Academy (B’ham) 09.11.17

Words by & pics by Cameron Goodyer

Arriving at the O2 Academy and seeing the expected throngs of people congesting the street eager to see J Hus was a pleasant, but unsurprising, Thursday night experience.

Over the past few years, J Hus, the young Londoner, has made a strong impact on the grime scene. His particular style of African influenced pop/grime collaboration has driven his success to a near sell-out Common Sense European tour and this occasion is no exception as the evening was sold out well in advance.

It’s common to expect a familiar format of support-act, support-act, headliner at these sorts of events but the old saying ‘expect the unexpected’ still holds true as the typically interminable waiting was cast aside in favour of a DJ set kicking straight in, energising the crowd and offering a ‘taster session’ for the rest of the evening. A selection of hip-hop, grime and R&B set the mood very nicely as the sound system pushed out hits and classics alike and the crowd began moving.

With the DJ still in mid-flow, the first official act of the evening took to the stage; a man going by the name DC. DC, sporting a striped orange t-shirt, offered the crowd a friendly welcome before diving into his act; a machine gun spray of lyrics, faster than anyone I have seen before. The crowd seemed on-board with this and impressed with his skill and I found it frankly memerising to behold. As well as speed, DC has good annunciation and the clarity of what he was saying wasn’t lost, something that would have been noticeable in the slower parts of his balanced set.

DC was set to be followed by an act called NSG and at their allotted time, first one man took to the stage, then another. And another. And another, and so on until the stage seemed packed full of bouncing energetic bodies. Too many to keep an eye on all at once by far. Unfamiliar with NSG’s music (I had only heard of them in a VICE/ID article), I found their strong afro-beat sound very fitting to the evening and it was clear to me they were a good support for J Hus’s set.

The flow of the evening was broken slightly following NSG as the next act, Young T & Bugsey, were unable to attend. Rather than move the timings for the evening, the decision seemed to be made that two men would take the stage and fill the time hyping up the crowd.

Unsure of how long a slot they were set to fill, it certainly felt long and rather than any set songs being played, the DJ seemed to play sections with the two men onstage belting out the odd word here or there. Passable at first, but soon it became clear the momentum of the evening was being lost and I could hear people in the crowd beginning to question when they would stop and the main act of the evening begin. Not something I could blame them for as my own energy, alongside all of the build-up from NSG, slipped away.

Luckily, without further delay or interlude, J Hus took to the stage; exactly what was needed and seemingly that had been noticed by J Hus or his team. His appearance turned the atmosphere back around and the crowd became elated, screaming loudly as smoke flooded the stage and blue and red lights (imitating police lights) flashed.

One of the key features of this staging shift was the DJ’s booth. For the first part of the evening this had seemed like an overly large dark space now the black cloth covering the area was removed to reveal that J Hus had brought two gleaming private number plate adorned Mercedes Benz cars onto the stage, seemingly working, with headlights streaming through the smoke.

Fittingly, J Hus himself walked out to the strains of the tour and album namesake track ‘Common Sense’, diving straight into his set with his biggest hit of the moment. With the sell-out O2 Academy audience drowned in smoke J Hus’s stage presence was impressive and it felt like he had instantly won over the 3000-odd people and made the night his own. Never was this more clear than, when asking for everyone to hold up the torches on their phones, the venue became bathed in the soft light that only a small lithium battery can provide. J Hus himself made for an impressive sight, suited as he was in an array of jewellery firing the already strobing lights in even more erratic and interesting ways.

J Hus moved through his set and began to bring out the bigger hits in his arsenal. As ‘Bouff Daddy’ began, he told the crowd to “mash up the place” and mash it up they did, including J Hus’s own hype-man who had returned to the stage and was seemingly having the time of his life. It was fantastic to look around and see everyone on the outside edges of the room moving and counterpoint to the crush closer to the stage, in those areas many people had space to move freely and were really expressing themselves, dancing with great enthusiasm.

This continued until the instantly recognised introduction to one of J Hus’s earlier hits began; ‘Lean & Bop’. As this reverberated around the room, it became clear that many people knew what to do and they had stopped dancing in their own way, instead following the signature dance to this well-known song, smiling broadly as they did so.

As the evening began to wind down and the end was approaching J Hus announced to mixed reaction that he would be performing a new track that the audience would never have heard before. The mixed reaction of the audience to this was down, I feel, to the fact that while many of them were happy to be part of this new experience, the audience as a whole were keen to be singing along and to have set dances in mind for the tracks, something not offered by a new song.

After this, J Hus hit the audience with two of his biggest tracks to date – ‘Fisherman’, a song that got a much bigger more positive reaction than I had expected, and ‘Did You See’. ‘Did You See’ is the bigger of the two and undoubtedly a track that most people had been waiting for. It was worth the wait. Taking everyone by surprise, mid-song J Hus left the stage and headed into the crowd. Before you could blink, everyone in this main section of the room rushed forward, lyrics on their lips, clamouring for a piece of the main man himself.

And so ended the evening and with the lyrics of ‘Did You See’ resonating in my head I made my way out of the O2 Academy. J Hus’s post crowd-dive question ‘Did you see what I done?’ wouldn’t leave me and the answer is simply; yes. I saw you take a Thursday evening in the O2 Academy in Birmingham and turn it into an event people will talk about until the next one. Until the next one.

For more on J Hus, visit www.jhusmusic.com

For more from Birmingham O2 Academy, including full event listings and online ticket sales, visit www.academymusicgroup.com/o2academybirmingham

For full gig listings from SJM Concerts/Gigs and Tours, visit www.gigsandtours.com

November 3, 2017November 14, 2017

BREVIEW: Black Rebel Motorcycle Club @ O2 Academy 28.10.17

Words by Molly Forsyth / Pics Phil Drury

Beaten leather jackets, faded skinny jeans, slightly greying hair and classic rock band tees… a seasoned crowd of music fans are with me at the O2 Academy to see Black Rebel Motorcycle Club (BMRC).

Formed in 1998, the San Francisco trio have anchored themselves as one of the Noughties’ most memorable rock bands, with a die-hard fanbase to boot. Traversing classic hard rock, blues, post punk and anything else from the grimier underbelly of rock, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club are a band who are proud to stick to their guns. While their contemporaries favoured disco beats and New Romantic candour back in 2005, they couldn’t cut through BRMC’s distortion and bluster. This is probably why the band are still going strong and touring in support of their upcoming eighth studio album, Wrong Creatures.

With their history in mind, it makes perfect sense for the opening act to be Restavrant, a rare breed of a band borne from the Los Angeles scene by two blues fanatics hailing from the Deep South. Restavrant come to Birmingham trucker capped, plaid clad and ready to bring the Texan heat to the stage. From the first song, the energy borders on dangerous when drummer Tyler Whiteside’s makeshift cymbals splinter from his strikes. What follows is an intoxicating blend of DIY punk and old school blues, but far more earnest than you would come to expect from an LA scene of poseur rock.

The creativity of Restavrant shines brightest for their half hour in the spotlight. Self-taught and unrestricted by traditional rock band set-ups, neither band member sticks to the beaten path in their playing techniques. Guitarist, Troy Murrah, is incapable of playing in a traditional style for more than two minutes, attacking the fretboard from almost every angle physically possible and showing the diversity of 16-bar blues with every song. Whiteside’s unorthodox kit, complete with an electronic pad, a suitcase for a kick drum and various other scraps of metal as percussion, is a perfect example of how this band infuse their Southern roots into their craft.

There isn’t much room for any respite or reflection in this stormer of a set, but Restavrant aren’t pretending to strive for anything beyond purely guttural rock, nor would you want them to. In a genre currently suffering under the rise of hip-hop and a trend towards minimalism and softness, Restavrant show determination to bring rock n’ roll back to its former glory, even if only for half an hour.

What follows from the main act of the evening doesn’t really match the pace or excitement that Restavrant incite within the crowd. I’m not expecting Black Rebel Motorcycle Club to have a full-throttle set for 90-plus minutes, but the 24-song set starts to drag from ‘Beat The Devil’s Tattoo’ onwards. I don’t want to suggest an experienced live band could sound amateurish, but it wouldn’t be unfair to suspect that tonight Black Rebel Motorcycle Club are suffering from sound engineering problems. There’s no emphasis on any harsh or soft moments, or indeed barely any change in dynamic at all from song to song. The guitars start to bleed into a drone that is hard to distinguish, save a few recognisable riffs; the issue is so prevalent that I didn’t realise they were covering Tom Petty’s ‘It’s Good to Be King’ until around a minute into the track.

Sound issues aside, I get the feeling that BRMC are aware of their longevity and find comfort in it rather than a challenge. There is definite fan service being paid, with the hardcore faction of the crowd clearly enjoying every second. For anyone else with a slightly more casual appreciation however, it’s a tough set to sink into. As a band famed for their live abilities, tonight Black Rebel Motorcycle Club aren’t quite delivering what they are known for during a live show. They remain mostly static, crowd interaction is minimal, and any playfulness with songs they’ve been entertaining with for years is hard to come by.

Drummer, Leah Shapiro, holds the fort perfectly as the rhythmic core of the group but seems almost bored of her role, rarely breaking away from the studio versions even though she definitely has scope and ability to. The stark, primary-colour lighting and moody smoke effects are reminiscent of early Interpol shows done as a gimmick. All in all, the set is unfortunately nondescript.

Their two biggest singles to date – ‘Spread Your Love’ and ‘Whatever Happened to My Rock and Roll’ – are unsurprisingly left till last. Frustratingly, it’s only now that the band come alive; a few plastic pint cups start to bounce off the crowd’s increasing undulation. Levon Been shows a little rowdiness and whips up the front row into a frenzy. After an hour of sleepwalking through their hits, all of a sudden it starts to resemble a rock show, albeit too late for me.

But there are brief moments of magic from Black Rebel Motorcycle Club tonight. ‘Ain’t No Easy Way’, ‘Stop’ and ‘666 Conducer’ are able to break through the onset ennui. Peter Heyes’ solo take on ‘Devil’s Waitin’’ is also impressive.

I leave the O2 Academy with no less respect for Black Rebel Motorcycle Club but a little deflated, having been pumped up with high expectations. I will make sure I give Wrong Creatures a listen upon its release, and my lingering hope is that the next time BRMC make a live outing the quality of the performance matches the undeniable quality of their back-catalogue.

Restavrant – supporting Black Rebel Motorcycle Club @ O2 Academy 28.10.17 / Phil Drury – Birmingham Review

For more on Restavrant, visit www.restavrant.bandcamp.com

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Black Rebel Motorcycle Club @ O2 Academy 28.10.17 / Phil Drury – Birmingham Review

For more on Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, visit www.blackrebelmotorcycleclub.com

For more from the O2 Academy Birmingham, including full event listings and online ticket sales, visit www.academymusicgroup.com/o2academybirmingham

For more from SJM Concerts/Gigs and Tours, visit www.gigsandtours.com

November 2, 2017

BREVIEW: Kioko + Kofi Stone, Ed Geater, Wuzza Mill @ O2 Academy 26.10.17

Words by Giles Logan / Pics by Rob Hadley

Anyone doubting the vitality of Birmingham’s music scene would have done well to spend Thursday evening in the company of 600 clued up and revved up punters at the O2 Academy. Escaping the chilly evening air for a full on sweat session rammed in amongst a multitude of smiling faces, positive energy and good vibes to get down with three of the city’s finest artists.

Opening the gig is impossible human beatboxing singer songwriter, Ed Geater. He is one of those people possessed of an assured likeability that is infectious. It shines through in his music and demeanour, as he seamlessly slips through a range of styles with an affability that invites warmth and affection.

Ed Geater is an artist with a clear vertical trajectory towards success, recent release ‘Symmetry’, which got an outing here, displays a maturity and sound that could easily crack the mainstream. His one-man band live performances are utterly breathtaking.

Without pause, beats and rhythms are sampled and looped building unique melodies over which Geater’s vocals veer from mournful to uplifting with ease. It was a set ripe with new material, is there an album due…? There should be.

Time to get funked up with the smooth hip hop of Kofi Stone. A full live band adds a sharp frisson to Stone’s raps, relaxed and confident his verse trills easily and rapidly with just a hint of Dizzee about it. For several moments throughout the audience nods appreciatively in unison as the laconically soulful beats carry Stone’s ‘real’ stories, delivered with a humble panache. Stand out track was the chilled and just a little melancholic ‘Stories in Pyjamas’, a laid back nod to innocent days.

With Kioko moments away the audience has swelled dramatically; getting served at the bar is a mission best left for the critically masochistic, room two at the O2 Academy is certainly as full as any gig we can remember.

That thrilling electrical buzz of anticipation begins to energise an eager crowd, exacerbating that is the violent bass switched to almost ear drum bursting levels as Kioko’s intro, Led Zeppelin’s ‘Immigrant Song’, rattles senses and the PA. Kioko take to the stage in a blur of riotous fizzed up energy which they incredibly manage to maintain throughout. Trumpeter and backing vocalist, Ewan Whyte, is a rocket fuelled missile of skanking effervescence; flailing arms, stomping feet and quite possibly the world’s most relentless grin. And he still has the breath to blow into his trumpet. Ewan we salute you.

The seven piece Brummie reggae band are having the time of their lives and this transmits effortlessly to a bouncing crowd. Yes, the songs are great, but that connection with their audience is immutable and very special.

At one point the band run through a roll call of city suburbs to establish fan demographic, with each location receiving a loud cheer as they are announced: Harborne, Bearwood, Kings Heath, Northfield and on, but curiously no cheers for Stirchley (where were you?). Participation is irresistible and even the most recalcitrant of punters, yes us, found ourselves getting down low in a crouch, jumping from side to side, waving our hands in the air or grinning at our neighbours following Kioko’s instructions to, “get the fuck down”.

Songs that stuck out for us were new track ‘Mercy’, which was dedicated to Theresa May, the stripped back emotion of ‘Kiss Away’ and the mighty dub rhythm of ‘Kioko Skank’ – Keeeeooooookoooo. Most impressive was an encore of the anthemic ‘Deadly Roots’, with the band joined on stage by Ed Geater and Kofi Stone.

A triumvirate of essential Birmingham musical talent sharing one stage, what a moment. An incredible gig and thrilling testament to the impact a growing number of artists are having in the city.

Wuzza Mill – supporting Kioko @ O2 Academy 26.10.17 / Rob Hadley – Birmingham Review