Hotel Lux live review: Ageing out of the post-punk scene
Sitting in the Boston Arms in London’s Tufnell Park has always been a pleasure. A pub quite clearly operating as the beating heart of a community is complimented by horse racing on the TV, karaoke beckoning an ensemble of dancers around the poorly greened pool table and a glut of regular guests who seem more intent on finding the meaning of life in the bubbling foam of their bitter than craning their necks ten yards down the road to see the latest guitar band take the stage at the Boston Music Room.
Yet, several times a week, this classic British pub is swarmed by a throng of gig-goers eagerly awaiting the stage times of their favourite new act and chirping wildly about the convenience of a pub next door to the venue. As the two cultures clashed, it felt apparent that another war was ensuing before my eyes, and it’s a generational conflict that has raged for decades. Bright eyes and bushy tails meet gnarled wisdom and a gruff lack of ego.
At 33 years old, and at the beginning of the evening, I wouldn’t have said I was necessarily in either camp. Sure, there are a few white whiskers in my beard, and I’ve seen guitar music thrive, die and seemingly regenerate at least once in my gig-going life, but I still had the desire to catch a new band, drink some overpriced beer, and sway with the noted aloofness that only comes with sincere concentration. With such an inclination to fill my weekend with a little culture, I crossed the river and made the pilgrimage from my south London suburb to the streets of north London, lined with organic markets, Instagram-ready butchers and perhaps the most pizza places in a square 100m that I had ever laid eyes on outside of Italy.
It was a journey headliners Hotel Lux would have likely made too. Fresh off the success of their debut LP Hands Across the Creek, the group certainly carried themselves around the venue with the air of a band about to break through the hubbub and make some noise of their own. Having been hotly tipped as one of the bright young things of the south London punk scene a few years back, the Portsmouth natives were now clearly determined to set themselves out on another path, to prove, in their own words, they were “not your idols” — or should that be Idles?
A few pints in, and the neon-lit doors of the Boston Music Room beckoned. Just on the right side of dingy, without a single poor viewing spot and bereft of any kind of pre-determined musical ‘history’, the venue hummed with exuberance. As ever, I made my way through the sea of ruler-sharpened fringes, ironically cut tailoring and perennially sniffing noses to head to the smoking area.
Long gone are my days of deeply inhaling nicotine to calm or energise my nerves, but the smoking area of any venue always provides two things: a calm spot away from a crowd quietly and menacingly jostling for position and a good glimpse of the band in their natural habitat. Hotel Lux were no different, and were neatly placed in the centre of the concrete courtyard, smoking cigs and drinking lager from plastic pint cups, clearly separated from the crowd by their confident demeanour, long overcoats and the dark circles under their eyes. They looked every part the guitar band they are — a post-punk group built out of the foundations of Blockheads, The Fall and a host of other artists, yet pleading to be seen as entirely unique.
The band depart the yellowing smog and head for the stage, with the rest of the audience dutifully following them into the main room. They don’t disappoint their fans either; delivering a performance that shook the crowd from wall to wall, building the atmosphere before unleashing an almighty crescendo.
Highlights include the gentle refrain of ‘Morning After Mourning’ which finds a calm spot in the middle of the set to bring a sense of authentic solace to proceedings. ‘Eastbound and Down’ takes a swipe at capitalism and has lead singer Lewis Duffin making his best impression of a drunk man berating a bin outside the off-licence. But there are some misses too. ‘Solidarity Song’, feels the wrong side of contrived while ‘Points of View’ has Duffin screaming about the “modern world” with an embarrassing sense of conceited originality.
Making my way out of the show and heading straight for the nearest greasy takeaway that wasn’t a sourdough pizza, I found it hard to deal with the dichotomy of being a post-punk band in 2023. Hotel Lux come complete with sardonic spoken-word vocals, acerbic bass and a penchant for proclaiming themselves an individual entity while trying to legitimately tackle a society they see failing before their eyes without feeling staged. It’s an unenviable place to be.
However, the group’s biggest hit continued reverberating around my brain as I sat on a wall after the show, eating my fried chicken burger. ‘National Team’ is an effortless anthem that digs deep into our universal fear of lost youth—focusing on the strange sensation of seeing sportspeople become younger and younger as they grow older. It was with this song that I realised the problem I was facing with Hotel Lux; they weren’t a band that lacked individuality, I had simply seen too many bands like them before.
There is no doubt that guitar music is alive and well. Bands are continuing to fill venues, leaving them dripping with sweat and returning to their day jobs. Audiences too, are growing, and most importantly, getting younger with a new generation now finding comfort in the analogue ferocity of rock ‘n’ roll. However, it’s important to remember that as this new squad of young gig-goers begin to fill the ranks, those who came before should show a little humility and let them play the game how they want to. After all, we were young once too.
