Review

Review

The Wonder Years take on The Underworld

Inside the sweatbox that was the biggest small gig ever played by the Pennsylvania punks legends


Dan Campbell is trying his best not to throw up from overheating, and the jovial chants of “Puke, puke, puke” being aimed at him from the crowd here at this absolutely roasting Underworld aren’t helping at all. It’s been 18 years since The Wonder Years last took over this venue, playing in front of 50 people during a tour that they are the first to admit they had no real right being on, and the emotional weight of getting to return all this time later after selling it out in three minutes is far from lost on them. And though the stage is starting to quickly resemble a slip and slide, and every impassioned singalong being levelled back at them seems to be raising the temperature another degree or two, it’s a small price to pay for rolling back the years and paying back to a scene that has given them so much.

That same sense of doing it for the scene comes through in their choice of support, too. Beauty School open proceedings, delivering their buoyant and bristling take on pop-punk with gusto and grandiose. Greywind offer a more dramatic fair with a tight blend of soaring melodies and pummelling soundscapes. Both show off a different side of what is so exhilarating about the UK’s alternative underground right now and receive a gratifying response, letting all know that the future is in safe hands. 

There’s a sense of coming full circle with how The Wonder Years are approaching this opportunity, though. It is a celebration of how far they have come as well as how much they have overcome to allow them the chance to come back around to where it all started. Their set pulls from every corner of their journey so far, with a riotous ‘Don’t Let Me Cave In’ and chest-thumping ‘Dismantling Summer’ taking us back to the adversities conquered of yesteryear, whilst fresher additions’ Year Of The Vulture’ and ‘GODDAMNITALL’ almost take the roof off with how loudly they are screamed. And the contrast of sentiments found within the band’s songwriting feels all the more palpable in such intimate surroundings. The apocalyptic damnation of ‘Low Tide’ and bile-soaked heartbreak of ‘Cigarettes & Saints’ work in tandem with the youthful hedonism of ‘Hostels & Brothels’ and parental adoration at the centre of ‘Wyatt’s Song (Your Name)’, showing off the full tapestry of life, with love, loss and learning at the forefront throughout. By the time a defiantly tear-stained ‘Washington Square Park’ and outwardly rowdy ‘Came Out Swinging’ see things out, neither band nor fan have anything left to give. 

As much a scrappy and sweltering punk show as it is a life-affirming and profoundly personal exorcism of feeling, this is a show built on contrast, which feels almost impossible to picture unless you experience it yourself. The sort of performance that exemplifies why so many devote their lives to this beautifully affecting community whilst also being a firm reminder of why The Wonder Years have achieved everything they have. Humble, heartfelt and hotter than the sun’s surface, these are the sort of nights you talk about for forever and a day.


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