The Octagon played host to a blistering night of live music on Saturday, with The Royston Club headlining a stacked bill alongside Permanent Joy and FEET. What unfolded was one of those nights that reminded everyone why the live circuit still matters — three bands, three different takes on modern indie, and a Sheffield crowd that was every bit as much a part of the show as those on stage.
Permanent Joy opened proceedings, pulling in an impressively large early crowd. Their set was a thoughtful mix of clever, slightly melancholy-soaked songs that burrow into your head. They may not yet have the rollocking anthems of the headliners, but what they do have is substance — songs built on sharp lyricism and an unassuming charisma that suggest they could go a long way.
Next up were FEET, who brought a kinetic burst of arty, angular energy to the stage. Their Talking Heads-influenced take on indie was both quirky and irresistible, full of twists, turns, and sudden jolts of brilliance. The band threw themselves into every moment, matching the enthusiasm of the swelling crowd who were clearly on board with their every move.
By the time The Royston Club were due, the venue was a packed sea of punters and pints, anticipation fizzing in the air. When the lights dropped and the band strode out under a wash of colour, Sheffield was ready — and from the very first notes of opener ‘The Patch Where Nothing Grows’, it was clear the feeling was mutual.
The Welsh four-piece delivered a set that was both sharp and full-hearted, balancing the swagger of ‘Glued to the Bed’ and ‘Blisters’ with the warmth and wistfulness of ‘A Tender Curiosity’, which saw Ben and Tom duet to beautiful effect. The crowd sang along to every word — ‘Blisters’ in particular becoming a communal roar, voices raised and arms in the air.
Midway through the set, ‘Mrs Narcissistic’ began with a stripped acoustic intro before exploding into full band glory, while ‘Through the Cracks’ and ‘Spinning’ showed off their knack for crafting hooks that hit hard but never feel forced. Each chorus seemed to grow louder as the audience threw everything back at the stage — a genuine two-way exchange of energy and admiration.
By the time the closing notes of ‘Cariad’ rang out, the band’s connection with the crowd was undeniable. The song’s shifting moods — from quiet introspection to soaring release — felt like the perfect encapsulation of the night. The Royston Club didn’t just play Sheffield; they owned it.
Even though they hail from North Wales, they’ve clearly found a second home here. The Octagon crowd gave them everything, and the band responded in kind — a night of unity, sweat, and songs shouted back in unison.
In short: The Royston Club put on a show. But so did Sheffield
