Music
Review
Porridge Radio at Electric Brixton, 26/11/24
The indie rockers provide a night of catharsis and release amongst their noise
It’s cold out, isn’t it? Windy now, too – we’ve had two storms in as many weeks. It means that the walk from Brixton tube station to Electric Brixton, which isn’t particularly long, really feels like it is. Fitting then, that it was Porridge Radio who we are here to see; a band that seem to only make music for days like this. And on their latest album Clouds In The Sky They Will Always Be There For Me, even more so.
Since their inception, Porridge Radio have really been a vehicle for lead singer Dana Margolin’s emotional output – her vulnerabilities laid bare, most often accompanied by her ferocious guitar playing. Here at Electric Brixton, more so than usual: from the beginning of opener ‘Sick of the Blues’, it’s clear that playing live is a different beast altogether. While Clouds is a sparser record than previous releases, in the live setting the anger and pain behind Margolin’s songwriting is given time to flourish.
What I’m trying to say is it gets loud. ‘Sick of the Blues’ is followed by ‘A Hole in the Ground’, another of the new tracks; it too has a new lease of life on stage, continuing both the noise and the energy. ‘Give/Take’ from the band’s breakthrough album Every Bad provides a sense of familiarity amongst these new cuts and sees the crowd clapping along – the first sign that they’ve also warmed up from the cold outside.
Even if there isn’t (initially) much movement from the crowd, there is from Margolin. Whilst she is often rooted to the spot, she is by no means standing still. And when she isn’t, she is across the stage, often towards bassist Dan Hutchins. Swaying, thrashing, screaming – this is no picture of constraint. She sings as if she is exorcising herself. “It was a sickness loving you,” she screams on ‘God of Everything Else’. It is a guttural shout that builds, seemingly from deep within her, as if her pain is fresh and must be banished from herself once more. It is catharsis in real time. “It’s been good to play these songs,” she tells us, but we already know that. She’s right in front of us.
It isn’t all loud and guttural, however. ‘Wednesday’ and ‘In A Dream I’m A Painting’ provide moments of contemplation. It’s not that Margolin’s pain is any less visceral, more that she, and us in watching her, are taking something of a breather. Catching our breaths to watch it all unfurl once more. Still raw, still vulnerable and cathartic, just not quite as intense.
The second half of the set brings back the energy and intensity. ‘The Rip’ immediately perks up the crowd, although it packs an emotional heft. “And now my heart aches,” Margolin repeats over and over, increasing the intensity each time until it looks like her body can no longer contain it all. All we can do is stand and watch. After that it is straight into ‘Back To The Radio’, with its noise-laden intro acting as something of a slow burn and guiding us into some of the band’s most potent songwriting.
And then, that is the end. Except the band are barely offstage before chants of “one more song” begin. Luckily for us, we were treated to three. Unreleased song, ‘Machine Starts to Sing’, promises an exciting future and showcased a different songwriting direction for the band, before usual service is resumed. ‘Long’ brings the crowd back to life, before they decide to close out with ‘7 Seconds’. “Do you ever think about who you were then and who you are now?” Margolin sings. Many in the crowd sing it with her. It could easily be a reference to this night. And somehow, it feels like a happy ending.
The band don’t leave the stage, instead, they make paper airplanes out of their setlists and throw them into the crowd. These songs and their emotions won’t be forgotten, not least by Margolin and the band, who will play them all over again on the next stop of the tour, but they are choosing to let go of them each and every time. On a night that was all about release, it is really the only way to end.
