Chalk are an energetic experimental post-punk band from Belfast, Ireland. For fans of post-punk and electronic music, like myself, they certainly bring an exciting new edge to the genre. This, combined with what promised to be a dynamic live set led me to the Brudenell Social Club in Leeds on a Saturday night.
I arrived at the venue a few minutes before the first opening act began: The 113 – a local band from Leeds. They opened with an eruptive fuzzy bass and intricate percussive loops, paired with an occasional clean chord or riff from their guitarist. The frontman chimed in with angry resonance, taking spoken-word to the extreme as he spat out lyrics at impressive speed. His nervous disposition worked well with the gloomy nature of the songs, their subject matter often nihilistic and purging. When they stopped halfway through to say their thanks, each member appeared anxious to start playing again, suggesting that they were just as immersed in their own sound as the crowd were.
A very brief interlude was followed by the next support: Makeshift Art Bar, another innovative Belfast trio following in the footsteps of Chalk. Their set brought on a cacophonous landscape of spoken word noise rock with excellent instrumentals and repetitive lyrics; this was best showcased on their popular single ‘Bedwetter’, where frontman Joseph Sweeney’s engaging vocals echoed over snappy drums and hot bursts of booming guitar. Towards the end of their set, the lead guitar was exchanged for a lap steel guitar, which added a new layer to the already rich sea of noise emanating from this group. They’re remarkably technical for their age, and definitely ones to look out for within the post-punk scene.
As Chalk’s set time approached, I inched closer towards the stage. There was an excited buzz in the crowd, who had been properly warmed up for the main act thanks to the support. An electrical whirr sounded, signalling the beginning of their set. The drone insisted for at least a full minute with no sign of the band, which made the crowd all the more eager for their presence. I recognised this sound to be the start of their recent release, ‘Afraid’; and I was right. The band took to the stage, applause briefly commenced, and the addictive guitar hook signalled the start of a thundering performance. Frontman Ross Cullen immediately took ownership of the stage from the second he walked out, his hand unusually clad in chainmail, he lunged in the direction of the audience during the chorus, allowing us to hang onto every despaired word.
‘Afraid’ was closely followed by two of their better known hits, ‘Them’ and ‘Static’. Each song seamlessly transitioned into the next with the help of a small mixing board, causing little distinction between their start and end.
‘Static’ was a standout in the show, allowing each members’ individual qualities to shine.
Drummer Luke Niblock took the lead with an impressive percussive riff, which grooved against a bleak techno melody; Cullen’s vocals were bleak and monotonous during the verse, as were his lyrics: “I’m hardly hanging on”.
Something about this single reminded me of elements of Joy Division’s ‘Closer’, despite being much faster paced – the repeated lyrics, partially the delivery and the general translation of gloom. The verse transformed into a reverberated scream in its chorus, with relentless guitar and drums to carry it forward to the crowd. It was growing impossible at this point not to at least nod your head along, which appeared to be the trio’s mission as the night went on: for people to move and simultaneously be moved by their music.
The songs became heavier, Cullens’ screams echoed louder and more urgent and the percussion became more relentless. This had an obvious effect on the crowd, who went from just bobbing their heads to jumping and flailing their hands in the air. It felt like a truly cathartic experience, and whilst there was little crowd interaction in the way of words, not much needed to be said as the atmosphere was already set through the music. At one point, an audience member clasped Cullens’ hand, and they stayed like this for a while. It was clear that this music held a deep emotional resonance with its listeners which was difficult to ignore.
The final section of their set included a crowd favourite, ‘Asking’, which opened with a recorded monologue. The words held both desperation and a sort of sinister resonance:
“I wish you were here; I wish you could talk to me. Please, I’m a friend.”
This also set the tone for the track, which was quiet and despairing in verses, before building to an explosive chorus: an apparently well-versed formula for the trio.
‘Conditions’ was where catharsis hit a crescendo. Cullen trudged around the stage, his hands clasped and facing the ceiling, as the sparkling instrumental opening resumed. Unlike more sinister tracks, ‘Conditions’ carries a slightly hopeful undertone, with uplifting synths hitting in the chorus. It’s also directly linked to ‘Static’ from the start of the show, with the lyrics: “Searching for something to do / to keep myself right” appearing in both tracks. The show ended with a climax of impactful drums and synth and some crowd surfing from Cullen – whose crowd carried him just as the band had carried the audience through what I can only describe as a less threatening version of an exorcism.
If you ever get the chance to see Chalk, do it, but expect intensity. This band is only on the rise across the UK, and it’s definitely for good reason.
