Gurriers Live Review in Sheffield by Rob Johnson
Dublin five-piece Gurriers are currently riding the crest of the wave started by Fontaines D.C. and continued by Florence Road, Basht, Sprints and seemingly many, many others. What sets Gurriers apart from their Irish counterparts is their intensity. Nobody’s Coming to Save You, the band’s recent sophomore LP, produced by Idles guitarist Mark Bowen, has seen the band expand their sound in some ways while contracting it in others. Their new record is anxious, introspective and confrontational, so it’s only natural that their live shows follow the same formula.
Crookes Social Club, on the outskirts of Sheffield, with its low-hanging ceiling and old-school, working-class feel, is the perfect venue for a band as loud and abrasive as Gurriers. Frontman Dan Hoff casually strolls onto the stage right on time and raises a sardonic eyebrow as he surveys the crowd, before deciding that he’s satisfied with the noise levels emanating from the Sheffield masses below. It’s only going to get louder.
‘Nobody’s Coming to Save You’, the title track from the band’s recently released sophomore album, sets the tone for the rest of the night. It’s expansive, dynamic and surprisingly melodic. This is a band that means business. The air-raid-siren guitar of ‘Nausea’ and the vulnerability of ‘Pins’ provide an interesting juxtaposition, but it’s ‘Des Goblin’ and its irresistible chorus that serves as an early highlight.
The crowd, rowdy all night, goes into overdrive for ‘Nothing Happens Twice’ and ‘Party Lines’, before ‘Erasure’ sees guitarist Ben O’Neill attacking his instrument as if it’s just insulted his mother. The band deliver an incredible rendition of the title track from their first album, ‘Come and See’, while bathed in purple light. Hoff then enters the crowd for an incendiary run-through of ‘Drones’, which inevitably ends with the now offstage frontman leading a circle pit.
‘Top of the Bill’, the band’s calling card, provides a moment of respite with its almost-pretty guitar riff and speak-sing chorus, before the band close with ‘I Wish I Was’ and the new album’s closer, ‘Crybaby’. It’s a bold move to end on two of their slower songs. ‘I Wish I Was’ is as close as Gurriers get to a ballad, but it pays off in spades, as the sonic variation and apocalyptic atmosphere of both songs provide the perfect conclusion to a frankly astonishingly violent night of music.
It’s inevitable that, with songs this good, Gurriers won’t be playing venues like Crookes Social Club for long. But there’s a nagging feeling that this is where the band belong: on a cramped stage, drenched in sweat and looking the audience straight in the eye.
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