There are gigs that entertain, gigs that satisfy, and—every once in a while—gigs that leave you slightly dazed, giddy, and wondering quite how you’re supposed to go back to normal life the next day. The Young Knives’ night at The Fulford Arms fell squarely into the third category, helped in no small part by a support slot from Leeds experimentalists Thank, who delivered a performance so weird, gripping and gloriously unhinged that they felt less like an opener and more like an unavoidable event.
Thank were—in a word—incredible. Their set was a barrage of experimental guitars, half-shouted, half-observed commentary on life, and a rhythm section that felt seismic. Drummer Steve Myles, tattooed head-to-toe and staring menacingly into the crowd like he was daring us to look away, was impossible to ignore. He hammered out rhythms that felt both punishing and impossibly tight; a drummer you don’t just listen to, you watch. It was engaging, questioning, and frankly unmissable—one of those sets where the room collectively realises it’s witnessing something special.
If Thank brought the chaos, Young Knives brought the craft.
I’d taken my 16-year-old son—someone who, by osmosis and repeated plays while I prepped to interview the band earlier in the year, had fallen head-over-heels for their latest album Landfill, one of my albums of the year. Seeing the Dartnell brothers take the tiny Fulford Arms stage, you could feel his awe. And from the first note, the band owned the room.
In an intimate venue like this, Young Knives’ peculiar blend of wit, charm and razor-sharp musicianship becomes almost overwhelming. The Dartnells tore through an extensive, career-spanning set with the confidence of a band who know exactly how good they are and the humility of a band who still seem delighted anyone showed up. Landfill tracks slotted seamlessly beside older favourites, giving long-time fans the deep cuts they rarely hear live while giving the casuals the hits that remind everyone how consistently brilliant this band has been for two decades.
The crowd was adoring, the room was full, and the atmosphere felt celebratory. Henry’s trademark showmanship—flag-waving, crowd excursions, theatrics that would seem lost or diluted in an arena—worked perfectly here. Perhaps that’s why they never made it bigger: the magic of Young Knives may simply burn brightest up close. But burn it does, from opener Part Timer, through favourites Terra Firma and Barbarians, to set closer Turn Tail, via the brilliant Your Car Has Arrived and the inevitable She’s attracted the set was thrilling, capped by encore Weekends and Bleak Days.
As the final notes faded and sweaty smiles filled the room, my son made his way over to Henry and blurted out his verdict
“It’s the best gig I’ve ever been to.”
He’s been to a fair few—but Young Knives, if you let them, can really get under your skin.
Setlist (Probable):
- A Memory of Venom
- Weekends and Bleak Days (Hot Summer)
A night of brilliance from two bands who push, provoke and perform with everything they’ve got. Young Knives remain one of Britain’s most underrated treasures—and Thank, if there’s any justice, won’t stay a secret much longer.
