Credit: Press

Live Review: Warmduscher offer up wholesome entertainment that’ll take the whole family to the hot spot

Fri 2 September 2022 12:24, UK

There wasn’t a saloon door in the entire NE postcode area left un-swinging when Warmduscher came to town and blessed Newcastle University’s Students Union with wholesome family fun. Clad in holy white jumpsuits, this goon squad graced the stage with handsome debonair decorum, as though Hugh Grant had become a painter and decorator and moonlighted as a musician after his shift. With wholesome charm, they purged the crowd with an exorcism of sanctified songs that near enough had every man, woman and child in attendance welling up.

Struck dumb by biblical awe I stationed myself safely behind a squat bald man who looked not unlike the depiction of Tweedledee in Tim Burton’s 2010 incarnation of Alice in Wonderland. To my right was a weathered woman in her 60s who had clearly procured her master’s degree in daft opinions from the London School of Morons as she pointed out to me on three separate occasions that “the lights were too flashy”. And to my left was, of course, my friend Patrick. This audience snapshot is a mark of the vast swathe of the proletariat that Warmduscher enamour.

They are, it would seem, a public oddity and their travelling circus attracts a mass that was hitherto unbeknownst to me. Nevertheless, this rather older-than-expected crowd was happy to embrace the family fun on offer. Bereft of a care, Warmduscher wondrously exhibited the same sense of assured joy of a shopping mall Santa who is truly happy in his work. It is a truth universally belittled (for some mad reason) that the band who shows that they are having fun invariably welcome the audience to join them. Me, Patrick, Tweedledee and everyone else in NUSU really did have fun last night and that’s no small thing in this decrepit day and age.

Yes, there were a few hitches. Sadly, the mic dropped out during ‘1000 Whispers’ which just so happens to be one of the best songs that any band has offered up since 2018. But even that provided the sort of moment that you might say ‘added a bit of charm to the whole thing’ if you were happy to lie to yourself. Technical blemishes aside, it’s a boon to see a band genuinely relishing in the original sound they offer up. In an era that I’ve come to think is plagued by the overbearing influence of The Fall, it’s a blessing to witness a group following their own muse down the rabbit hole of wholesome fat family fun.

With one of the briefest encore intervals I have ever seen, the band raced through their back catalogue, and just about had time for the one and only, ever-handsome Mr Salt Fingers Lovecraft to pause and partake in an impromptu shot of some unknown liquid. This relentless frenzy shuffled feet across the floor and wrapped riffs around your skull like the wrapper to a Chewitt that’s been sitting in your pocket a little too long. Sticky and sweet, this hot sonic pudding was an imperfect treat that whisked everyone in attendance off to the fabled hot spot—a world away from cold, hard reality.

You can check out a brief snippet of the madness below.