Regtown 3: Reg with a Vengeance

“What’s Regtown?” “Dunno some fucking reggae festival probably”
(anonymous LS6 students)

I’ve been side questing Leeds all-dayers for thirteen years. Highlights include: Pottery at Gold Sounds (2019); Parquet Courts at This Must be the Place (2017); and Beakender (2019) where MF Doom was famously in the crowd watching an early BCNR. I’m not telling you this to gloat about my past fortunes. I’m telling you this because Regtown is better than everything that has come before. This is because, at Regtown, fostering community (and drinking a million beers) sits in equilibrium with the music.  

Saturday 31st January

The basement of Hyde Park Book Club is decked out like Nana’s front room. An old television with a big behind is situated on the stage corner, playing montages of galloping horses and clips from vintage gameshows. In the early hours of the morning, Normal Village and Bathing Suits will come to respectfully desecrate this stage, delivering their wildest performances to date. Both bands currently take the title of the people’s princess and are progressively cementing themselves into Leeds DIY royalty. However, in total, 34 artists performed across the weekend at Regtown and so, for this review, I’ve decided to focus on the action in the snug.

An early offering was Bramwell, who made the journey from Cardiff to showcase their jangle inflicted power-pop, playing songs inspired by 60s psychedelia, beat groups and anyone else who worships the hook. 

They had a recent addition on guitar, Niall Ivie, also a member of Exeter-based Pushbike. Alongside Pushbike’s George Gravell, the two co-founded independent label Spinning Sister and were kind enough to participate in a zine swap with Stub, gifting us Issue 3 of DENATURED. If only Niall was as punctual as he was charming, he may not have been absent for the beginning of Pushbike’s set. Summoned to the snug by a choral refrain of “Wheeeere’s Niall?” he appeared at the door just in time for the band to exclaim “Theeere’s Niall. Fuck ICE. Free Palestine” and launch into their supercharged setlist. Their single ‘Bet you know’ deserves a spot on everyone’s parkrun playlist.

Canned Pineapple’s performance mirrored Pushbike’s in intensity, but with indie-pop inflections. Fronted by a reincarnation of Mal Evans (Sean Drury), the band delivered a string of catchy hits including ‘Jessie met Jane’ and ‘Elvis’, both of which bore resemblance to Teenage Fanclub anthems.

The pinnacle of today’s power-pop programme came with Autocamper, who played a selection of

songs from their debut album ‘What do you do all day?’. Combining the sound of a sparkly 12-string with warm organ and backing harmonies reminiscent of The Pastels was always going to be a recipe for joy. It was refreshing to hear songs about urban street foxes rather than horrific world affairs. Maybe they were metaphorical foxes who are landlords or investment bankers, but nonetheless the song allows the listener the autonomy to decide. 

After an incredibly dark and wet January, today’s power-pop snug line-up was life affirming. It left me pining for warmer weather and having my annual Mac Demarco binge three months earlier than anticipated. Most importantly, it brought joy in a time of uncertainty. Even Pushbike’s gritty emo noise was grounded in pop sensibilities and brought nothing but exhilaration and glee. 

Politically motivated music that challenges inequality, corruption and prejudice is important. It can help people feel belonging and sometimes brings tangible change. But music is also escapism. Sometimes listening to songs about foxes is the best antidote. Power-pop summer here we come. 

Sunday 1st February 

Sunday at Regtown was thankfully billed to be a much more subdued affair. As this was also day three of events for Stub, I was almost certain that anything with a BPM close to 180 would have resulted in me being rushed to St. Jimmy’s followed by a week of bed rest. 

After setting up the Stub stall I sleuthed down to the basement to catch Dinnerbone; A Leeds-based Alt-Rock/Shoegaze outfit. My path had not crossed with Dinnerbone’s up until this point, so I descended not knowing what to expect. On entering the basement, along with the usual guitars, amps, and drums, stood a small children’s chair surrounded by a maze of wires cradling a synth. I’m not sure how or why this tiny chair ended up in HPBC, but the mass of electronics it supported sure made me excited. Then the spectacle started. To sum it up; Dan, Fin, and Austin work to build a delicate soundscape to complement, but not overpower, Sasha’s haunting and mighty vocals that lull you into an almost hypnotic state to the point where you don’t sense, as the song crescendos, the wall of sound heading in your general direction with the power to knock you over (especially if you are in a delicate state). It is basically this formula for every song and it is brilliant for it. 

After a brief stint back on the Stub stall, I wondered through to the Snug for Sam King’s set. Sam King almost definitely hails from Liverpool or a town nearby. I do as well so I’m a moth to the flame at the hint of a soft scouse accent. What a happy moth I was. Sam’s soothing vocals and light acoustic fingerpicking was like a warm hug that instantly relieved 2 days’ worth of beer fear and left me gliding out of the Snug like Mr Burns in that Simpsons episode (you know the one) pumped full of scouse folk and feeling emotionally balanced. If you could bottle that feeling the government would do its best to outlaw it. Sam, the purveyor of this magical musical elixir, is an incredibly talented and well-loved artist, so be sure to catch him if you get a chance. 

The final band I can mention within the dreaded word count is Family Art Club. I entered the Snug to chants of “Fuck the Uber Eats Robots” which gave me a sense of what was to come. I naturally didn’t join in with the chants as if one of those silent wheeled menaces had been trundling past and heard, who knows what untold AI vengeance it would have subject its tormenters to. The anti-robot chants were quickly replaced by Family Art Club’s folky wholesome goodness. With brass, a six-string guitar, melancholy vocals, and a wild drummer, Family Art Club really are a band that have it all and fully utilise it. If you are a fan of Black Country, New Road, but long for them to be a bit jollier, then Family Art Club are for you. 

Even during a brief tuning pedal malfunction, the audience couldn’t keep their attention off the band. That may have had something to do with the drummer pinging bags of iced gems and lollipops into the crowd. The sweet projectiles started without warning with the crowd only becoming aware of the danger after the first airborne confectionary ricocheted off someone’s forehead. Overall though the crowd were glad for the sustenance both musically and nutritionally. Family Art Club are a band having fun. So, remember to eat your greens, drink your water, and go enjoy the spectical of Family Art Club. Trust me, it’s all good for you. 

The weekend’s antics had by this point taken its toll on the Stub team. So, with the stall packed up, we slipped into the night while the music was still blasting. We have it on good authority though that Kiosk brought the party and Rhiannon Hope had people fighting to get into the Snug. The Private Regcords bands know how to do it. 

Regtown, put simply, was a huge success and showed the immense talent in the DIY music community. This, of course, would not have been possible without James Vardy and the Private Regcords team who put in a shift to get some of the best bands from near and far on the billing to execute Regtown to perfection. It is hard to put into words the good they are doing for the Leeds music scene, but it would be missing a certain buzz without them. 

LONG LIVE PRIVATE REGCORDS. LONG LIVE THE LEEDS MUSIC SCENE.

Words by Lucas Blackwell and the Editor (Jim Lazenby)

First picture – Dinnerbone. Second picture – Ben Parry crowd surfing. Both by Tom White (@tomw19). Third picture – Dinnerbone. Forth picture – Sam King. Both by Jim Lazenby.