Irish bands and artists are having a moment right now.
Fontaines D.C., Inhaler, Bleach 9:3, Basht, Kingfisher, Amble – the list goes on. They’re all at the forefront with their live shows a huge part of their appeal. There are few, though, that can create the kind of atmosphere that overtook Project House when Gurriers were in Leeds for Saturday night.
Some gigs are watched. But some gigs are experienced. The Dublin five-piece delivered a performance of ferocious intensity, blurring the distinction between band and crowd. From the opening chords, the crowd was bouncing, bodies colliding, voices raised, and the room threatening to blow apart at the seams.
Straight out of the blocks, Nobody’s Coming to Save You set the tone. By Party Lines and Nausea, the place was at full tilt, the crowd feeding off a band who play like they have something to prove and they’re going to prove it as loudly as they can.
Frontman Dan Hoff was straight onto the barrier during the opening song, immediately blurring the lines between stage and floor. As he orchestrated the chaos in the crowd, he accepted a pair of plastic pineapple glasses passed up from the crowd and wore them with the sort of nonchalance that suggested this was entirely normal behaviour. With Gurriers, maybe it is.
The set tore through Des Goblin, Pins and Today Is Not Enough, the intensity barely letting up long enough for anyone to catch their breath. There is a physicality to this band that makes their music feel like the room could catch fire. Every combustible riff and pounding bassline adding fuel to the fire.
Bassist Charlie McCarthy proved every bit as commanding a presence. He launched himself over the barrier and was carried above the crowd, still hammering out ridiculous basslines as the audience kept him aloft. It’s an exhilarating sight, and you can see this on the faces of the crowd, not just underneath the bass player, but under the influence of the vibe McCarthy creates.
The trademark “wall of death” began with Hoff separating the room down the middle, all the way to the back. For a moment, there was that delicious tension, two sides facing each other, waiting for the inevitable. The signal came as Waiting for Fisher gathered pace. The crowd surged and collided in a euphoric explosion of limbs, sweat and grinning faces, another mosh pit erupting as the crowd drew on the energy of the music for the push to the end.
Approachable, I Wish I Was and Crybaby brought the set towards its conclusion, although the idea of winding things down felt almost comical after what had come before. Seventeen songs, an audience pushed to its limits, and a band seemingly capable of finding another gear whenever it needed one.
Gurriers are a formidable live proposition, and nights like this explain why their shows are increasingly becoming the stuff of legend. There is menace here, certainly, but also humour, communion. It’s magically reckless. The pineapple glasses, McCarthy surfing the crowd, the wall of death: these are the moments that will be retold long after the bruises fade.
At Project House, Gurriers didn’t simply play a gig. This is a band that doesn’t want to play at the crowd or even for the crowd. They want to be in there, with the crowd – in unison, thrown headlong into the gathering storm of momentum that will carry the memory of these live shows into folklore.
