The Maccabees at All Points East review by Ryan Beardsley
Remember in the film Interstellar, where they have to run indoors and hide due to dust storms as the planet slowly dies? I don’t want to exaggerate, but it felt like that yesterday at Victoria Park. I haven’t seen so many people in facemasks since the heady days of COVID, and as a result, this morning I’m coughing like I smoke 50 Bensons a day.
Anyway, that’s the negatives out of the way, because other than East London turning into Arrakis, this had to be the best single day of live music in the UK in 2025.
First act I got to see was Irish post punk poets The Murder Capital, whose job it was to get the early entrants geared up, and they were mostly successful in a politically charged set, offering support to fellow Irish act the Mary Wallopers after this weekend’s controversial scenes at the now under fire Victorious Festival in Portsmouth. They made their mark in a set that was too short, but an epic rendition of anthemic Ethel made up for any lost time.
Everything Everything were next in front of a massive crowd on the West Stage, as soon as To The Blade kicked in with Andrew Higgins’ trademark falsetto, it was on. Banger after banger in the late August sunshine with thousands of people singing along to Kemosabe and Distant Past in a hit-filled set, they knew exactly what the crowd wanted and gave it to them in spades, the perfect festival performance.
Indie stalwarts The Cribs were next on the main stage. I sometimes think I’ve seen them more times than members of my immediate family, but they’re always welcome and reliable. It was a contrasting set, when they played the early stuff, Men’s Needs, Mirror Kisses, etc, the crowd were going mental and the mosh pit was absolute mayhem. However, each time they played anything post 2017’s Ignore The Ignorant those in attendance quite literally turned their back and continued to chit chat.. Must be frustrating for the Wakefield lads, but they did play a first new song in 5 years; Summer Seizures, let’s hope it’s the start of a return to form.
Back on the West Stage was uber cool South London act Dry Cleaning playing to a much smaller crowd than I expected. I can only assume CMAT is a big draw on the main stage these days. However, the four-piece took it in their stride and put on a great show, the always unassuming Florence Shaw on typically nonchalant form, with cult tortoise-based hit Gary Ashby going down a storm before a preview of some eagerly awaited new material. First album single Scratchcard Lanyard was another highlight before the entire crowd and apparently the entire festival descended on the site’s smallest stage…
Putting 00s indie heroes The Futureheads on such a tiny podium was an interesting choice. I’m not sure what they expected, but nostalgia is a powerful beast and the crowd flocked in their droves. The lads from the North East were typically self-effacing in the circumstances and blasted through 8 tracks in less than 30 minutes to give their fans a real treat. By the time the familiar vocal harmonies of Hounds of Love kicked in, everyone crammed in for a peak knew they had made the right choice to shun the bigger stages for a bit.
It’s non stop at APE, amazing act after amazing act with no breathing room (particularly today in the sandstorm) so it was back over to the West Stage for Bombay Bicycle Club, one of those bands that everybody likes and the goodwill was in abundance today. No one looked happier than the band themselves to be playing such a big show as the sun set on Victoria Park. Frontman Jack Steadman might be the happiest man in music, and his infectious cheeky grin permeates the place as the band perform a catalogue of their biggest hits and fan favourites before finishing with a triumphant Always Like This before the mad stampede to the East Stage…
And so to the main event, The Maccabees’ triumphant comeback. Hard to believe it was 8 years ago when I was standing in Alexander Palace waving goodbye to the band after what was one of the best farewell shows in British music history, but now they’re back and judging by the 50,000 plus in attendance, it’s exactly what people want, and boy does this show provide that.
Smashing straight into first album ode to local swimming baths, Latchmere, the crowd go suitably bonkers for the returning heroes. They look better than ever, like a band that should be headlining a massive festival, and they haven’t missed a beat either. Orlando Weeks’ voice is as delicate and smooth as it always was as evidenced by a note-perfect Feel To Follow.
Things slow down for classic early single First Love, a song that made so many adolescents fall in love with the band in their early days and it’s non stop singalongs after that, the only pauses being for band leader Felix White to emotionally thank those in attendance and tell a tale or two about how they got here.
Just when you think things can’t get any better, special guest; the incomparable Jamie T, joins the band on a barnstorming Marks To Prove It, reflecting just how much the band grew from their gentle indie beginnings to life-affirming rock and roll, it’s a highlight of the night. The band then join Jamie in a rip-roaring Sticks N Stones before it’s time for the obligatory encore.
First is fan favourite Toothpaste Kisses, a sickly sweet romantic ode that must have been first dance at a wedding for a whole generation of indie kids, before we get the two finest tracks from the band’s magnum opus, Given To The Wild. Grew Up At Midnight is perfect and should have catapulted the band into super stardom if there was any justice in the world, but sadly the world at large just doesn’t like good music. Pelican wraps things up in a suitable frenzy while everyone around me begs for more, but always leave them wanting more, as the old adage goes.
As a day, it’s wonderful, as a headline comeback show it’s as close to perfection as you’re likely going to get, time for a new album me thinks, I already can’t wait.
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