Independent Venue Week: English Teacher at The Crescent, York
With cobbled streets and buildings so close together that neighbours could shake hands, the streets of York look like they have been ripped straight from the pages of a romantic novel. The perfect setting for a first kiss and arguably one of the most beautiful cities in the UK, it can make KFCs and Premier Inns somewhat poetic. Brickwork and road layout predate most festival headliners, and every corner of this place, no matter its age or rundown look, is laced with history. The same can be said for The Crescent, where English Teacher begin their run of shows for Independent Venue Week.
“I’m anxious as fuck,” The band sit in the most literal green room ever, as walls are painted a blossoming leaf colour with illustrations of bamboo sticks shooting left and right. Opened bottles of water and empty food wrappers fill a table in the centre that Lily, Lewis, Douglas and Nicholas sit around. “I always am, pre-tour; I always get quite restless. In a good way.”
The band are tackling a sold-out tour in support of Independent Venue Week, which sees them travel far and wide, playing places up and down the country. It’s a big ask, especially given it bleeds into their next tour, which sees the band travel even farther and wider following the release of their debut album, This Could Be Texas. However, despite the long months ahead, as musicians who found their voices at small independent venues growing up and who self-admittedly have used such places to be inspired, establish a sound and build confidence, this run of shows was always a no-brainer.
“These are the venues where I did my first ever gigs,” says Lewis, “And also a lot of terrible gigs.”
“It’s where you cut your teeth,” adds Nick, “Is that what people say?”
“Yeah, I hate that expression.”
The band are scattered, each member from a different part of the country. All areas had different venues to play and develop at, but doing those gigs meant that when they eventually met, they had a sense of creativity and sound to bounce off one another.
“It’s like two separate things, isn’t it?” says Lily, “Because you’ve got us as individuals just learning how to be musicians on stage, and it’s always the small ones where you do that bit. Then, fast forward, we start a band, and when you start a project, that’s learning a whole new set of skills, isn’t it? How to work together. So, it’s helped us as musicians but also in our career development as well.”
The Crescent has an undeniable charm about it. The last time English Teacher were here, they were playing a support slot for Yard Act, but the stage, walls, and beer taps have been around much longer than that. Originally a working men’s club, the pub at the front still has much of the initial look, with the current owners reluctant to change much apart from small furnishings like seat covers and flooring.
In the bar at the front, there are posters advertising the healthy mix of talent coming to the city shortly, including jazz acts, afrobeat nights, and indie rock. A group of people gather around a pool table and take too long between shots, a mix of ages order stouts and lager at the bar, and a staff member with long hair restocks the crisp selection.
“The owners of it are two brothers and their mother,” Harkirit Boparai and Joe Coates, two of the driving forces behind The Crescent, both sit opposite the stage on one of the few tables towards the back of the room. 30 minutes before the crowds are allowed in, the space is still lit up, and with the mood yet to be set, you can see the panel flooring and amp-laden stage in all its glory.
“I met them my first week of uni; I saw Bob, who is kind of the main driving force behind getting the place open”. A well-poured Guinness sits in the middle of the table as Harkirit talks about how the venue came to be. “I saw him putting up a poster for a drum and bass night and thought, ‘Oh OK, this is a guy I need to speak to,’ he was the first person I met at uni, really…eventually, there was a couple of venues shutting down around the same time he was looking to open one up. And it all just kind of happened coincidentally.”
“Harkirit was working at a different venue at that time,” says Joe, “And I’d just finished working in venues but had been promoting in York for 18 years, the same length of time as the owners. So, I was at a bit of a loose end; in fact, I was about to leave York in 2015 when Bob managed to make this happen,” he gestures to the room, “and that all came about because the club wanted to sell it, the working men’s club.”
The now-owners bought the venue at the perfect time, given every other party interested in its purchase were developers who would likely have turned the space into flats. “They [the previous owners] decided they would sell it to Bob and his family in order to keep it as a club,” says Joe.
“So, they still come in and play dominos,” Harkirit says, pausing to check a missed call, but it was nothing important as he speaks, “and we had line dancing classes for a while until the pandemic.”
“Yeah, 15% of our program was line dancing for about five years.”
The Crescent, like other independent venues, acts as the beating heart for its city’s emerging talent. York is a small city, but that doesn’t mean fewer bands are making music because of it. “I think for York’s size, we’ve had some really healthy emergences. Bull are a band who have done really well, and we’ve loved being able to support them kind of growing throughout the years. Howl and the Hum came out of York, and they were really successful. Yeah, there’s a really healthy scene, particularly in kind of indie, post-punk music.”
A testament to the role that independent venues play in developing sound and artistry is seen in the support band, Moongate, a sweet-sounding, local indie rock outfit. They warm up the sold-out crowd with songs of love, loss and self-acceptance. The lead singer connects with the crowd in between tracks and, familiar with the local scene, the back and forth is like two old friends greeting one another. Her: “This song is about a boy.” Crowd: “Ooooh!”. Her: “No, we don’t like this boy.” Crowd: “Oh, boooo!”
The set was lovely; however, certain factors still need some work. The timing was slightly off in parts, and the occasional pitchy vocals were met with a hand to the chest and a smirk before being quickly corrected, but overall, they have an infectious sound and song structure that could light up any room. These kinds of gigs in these kinds of venues are exactly what bands like Moongate need to find out what works and what doesn’t, and there is no doubt that given a bit more time, their name will be heading the sold-out posters.
Soon after. English Teacher walk onto the stage to the sound of static chaos. It’s hard to make out what is happening as recordings and old songs are chopped up and thrown together, layered on top of one another and added to with the crowd’s applause. It builds until the band takes a sledgehammer to the relentless wall of noise with the recent single ‘Nearly Daffodils’. The dimly lit room is a sea of nodding heads and swaying silhouettes as English Teacher shift in tempo, spoken word moves to a jazz-like structure in seconds, and all eyes and ears are locked in.
They have a set which is perfect for a room like this. Some tracks like ‘World’s Biggest Paving Slab’ are full and heavy, bouncing off every corner of the 250-capacity room to give that sound that only smaller spaces can achieve. Alternatively, their slower songs resonate perfectly in this kind of intimate space. Lily sings with a voice as delicate as the silence it breaks, and it’s hard not to feel moved. As they close the set with their newest single, ‘Albert Road’, the room falls deathly silent except for guitar and vocals.
“Silence can also be a judgement of if people are enjoying it,” says Lily.
“Those are always my favourite moments,” confirms Lewis, “when we’re doing a slower song like ‘Albert Road’. We’ve been playing [it] for a while now, and we’ve always kind of finished the set with it even though it’s only come out recently…the silence is always something that I like the most. When someone is so intently listening, and everyone’s looking at Lily.”
As the set finishes and the lights come up, the crowd filters into the bar and the street; pints are drunk, cigarettes are lit, and people exchange words about the show. “Breathtaking” and “stunning” are heard amongst other chitter-chatter, but the overall feel is positive as the group of strangers find their voice after having it taken from them in a moment of beauty.
Taking a walk through the cobbled streets afterwards, York is the perfect way to debrief, but the one thought that overrides all others is confusion over The Waterboys. Because I saw the crescent as well, and it was pretty bloody magical.
