There are gigs, and then there are occasions. On Friday night at The Marrs Bar, this was unmistakably the latter: an album launch show that leaned into spectacle without losing sight of the grit that defines the UK’s grassroots circuit.
RETSECROWS
The evening began with Retsecrows, whose stripped-back, garage-inflected set did exactly what an opener should. There was little in the way of theatrics, but plenty of bite: choppy riffs, a sense of urgency, and just enough looseness to feel alive rather than rehearsed. If their role was to stir the room rather than steal it, they succeeded.
The evening began with Retsecrows, whose stripped-back, garage-inflected set did exactly what an opener should. There was little in the way of theatrics, but plenty of bite: choppy riffs, a sense of urgency, and just enough looseness to feel alive rather than rehearsed. If their role was to stir the room rather than steal it, they succeeded.
JAMES KENNEDY & THE UNDERDOGS
More substantial was the contribution of James Kennedy & The Underdogs, who followed with a set that balanced modern rock sheen and muscular delivery. Kennedy, an assured frontman, understands pacing: quieter moments were given space, choruses landed with weight, and the band’s dynamic control elevated them above standard support fare. If anything, they felt like a co-headliner in waiting—polished, accessible, and increasingly hard to ignore.
More substantial was the contribution of James Kennedy & The Underdogs, who followed with a set that balanced modern rock sheen and muscular delivery. Kennedy, an assured frontman, understands pacing: quieter moments were given space, choruses landed with weight, and the band’s dynamic control elevated them above standard support fare. If anything, they felt like a co-headliner in waiting—polished, accessible, and increasingly hard to ignore.
GYPSY PISTOLEROS
By the time Gypsy Pistoleros took the stage, the room had shifted. This was no longer simply a gig; it was a performance in the older, more theatrical sense. Touring in support of Dark Faerie Tales, the band delivered a set that blurred the lines between glam rock, punk cabaret and gothic pageantry.
Frontman presence was key: commanding, knowingly excessive, yet anchored by a genuine connection with the audience. The band’s aesthetic—part outlaw, part dark carnival—could easily tip into parody, but here it was sustained by conviction and, crucially, strong material. New songs translated well live, gaining heft and immediacy, while older numbers provided familiar anchors.
Musically, the set was restless in the best sense. Flamenco flourishes collided with sleazy riffs; chant-along choruses gave way to darker, more textured passages. At times the sound mix blurred under the weight of it all—a hazard in a compact venue—but the energy never dipped.
What distinguished the performance was its sense of intent. This was not theatre layered onto songs; it was theatre embedded within them. The “dark fairytale” concept underpinning the new record was not merely referenced but enacted, turning the set into something closer to a narrative arc than a sequence of tracks.
A vivid reminder that the most compelling live music still thrives not in arenas, but in rooms like this—where ambition, however flamboyant, is only ever a few feet from the crowd.
By the time Gypsy Pistoleros took the stage, the room had shifted. This was no longer simply a gig; it was a performance in the older, more theatrical sense. Touring in support of Dark Faerie Tales, the band delivered a set that blurred the lines between glam rock, punk cabaret and gothic pageantry.
Frontman presence was key: commanding, knowingly excessive, yet anchored by a genuine connection with the audience. The band’s aesthetic—part outlaw, part dark carnival—could easily tip into parody, but here it was sustained by conviction and, crucially, strong material. New songs translated well live, gaining heft and immediacy, while older numbers provided familiar anchors.
Musically, the set was restless in the best sense. Flamenco flourishes collided with sleazy riffs; chant-along choruses gave way to darker, more textured passages. At times the sound mix blurred under the weight of it all—a hazard in a compact venue—but the energy never dipped.
What distinguished the performance was its sense of intent. This was not theatre layered onto songs; it was theatre embedded within them. The “dark fairytale” concept underpinning the new record was not merely referenced but enacted, turning the set into something closer to a narrative arc than a sequence of tracks.
A vivid reminder that the most compelling live music still thrives not in arenas, but in rooms like this—where ambition, however flamboyant, is only ever a few feet from the crowd.
