Cyrus Larcombe Moore
Cyrus is a poet and journalist with Essential Tremor from Devon. He’s now based in Belfast studying MA Poetry at Queens University Belfast.
DEADLETTER took to Belfast’s Empire Music Hall to remind us just how good post-punk can be
I’ve fallen out of love with the post-Brexit Post-Punk scene but DEADLETTER’s live show has reminded me that I need to stay invested, to keep listening and to keep caring.
The 26th of September saw DEADLETTER performing their first show in a dedicated music venue since the release of their first album, ‘Hysterical Strength‘, early this month. After a string of record shop performances, they had arrived at the vaudevillian Empire in the heart of Belfast’s Botanic Avenue.
An artificial London smog (or was it a Yorkshire fog?) filled the stage, signalling the start of the show. Following the band, frontman Zac Lawrence, wearing a “Ban Sex Now!” T-shirt came onto to stage like a taught spring. The south London quintet launched into tight Dance-Punk grooves.
Whilst the acoustics at the Empire disembodies singers, as their voices float ten feet over their heads, DEADLETTER unusually benefited. The blasting simultaneous vocals from the Yorkshire trio of Zac Lawrence (vocals), Alfie Husband (Drums) and George Ullyott (Bass) made for church-like choral power, providing for me a revelation: “I still like this music.”
Opening the night at the Empire, the Dublin four-piece Basht. brought a youthful vulnerability, impressing with their lyrical candour and musical execution. The intimacy of their grunge-inflected indie sound filled the space left by four-chord jangle rock.
In contrast to the guitar, bass and drums of Basht., DEADLETTER had brought an instrumental diversity that has become synonymous with England’s contemporary Post-Punk scene. Along with the standard rock fodder, the band had a 12-string acoustic, a tenor saxophone, some extra percussion, stacked pedalboards and beers dotted across the stage amongst water bottles. “Jesus fucking Christ, not my beer”, could be heard as a bottle overflowed onto a setlist.
Tracks from DEADLETTER’s new album brought a renewed complexity to their live set. Textures introduced by renewed approaches to guitar and vocals produced an unpredictability that has matured their sound. DEADLETTER are evolving without losing their DIY streak hard won from weekends busking in Leeds.
Ullyott’s driving basslines, alongside choral vocals, pumped energy into the venue until the saxophonic lull highlighted the sets careful orchestration. Lawrence greeted the crowd with a dry “Good evening, we are DEADLETTER,” spoken straight into the face of a sprung audience. “Shall we dance,” he said, not as a question. Lawrence came to the edge of the stage, beyond the monitors, to join the crowd with his Iggy-esque squirming in a sudden dance mob.
Lawrence doesn’t encourage intimacy, he demands it, entering the crowd to be surrounded and to sing with us. DEADLETTER would have you on stage if they could. But, at the very least, they make us feel that we are.
Listen to ‘Hysterical Strength’ here: