Primarily associated with the Leeds goth scene of the mid 80s, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry soldiered in into the 90s with two albums in the 90s on Situation Two. Dormant for an extended period after being released by the label, the last decade has seen the band play occasional live dates and tours, but nevertheless, a hometown show like this is a rare thing. That tonight’s outing is at the Brudenell makes for a particularly special occasion.
FEHM proved themselves a worthy support with their angular and angry brand of post punk. Having been reduced to a three-piece, front man Paul Riddle is now the sole guitarist, meaning he’s no longer free to charge the stage like a madman with mic in hand. Nevertheless, he’s a compelling performer. The band’s sound is propelled by some thunderous drumming and stonking, and at times dextrous, basslines, over which fractured guitar, awash with chorus and flange, splinter. The primitive angst of the vocals is cathartic. It may be retro, but this is no ersatz facsimilie of the past: it’s authentic and powerful stuff.
It may have been 23 years since their last album, but The Lorries never come across as a nostalgia band. They don’t don the old leather jackets and make like it’s 1985, and the fact Chris Reed, grey-haired and bespectacled, and as lean as a lath, strolling on stage in comfort-fit jeans and one of his now signature sleeveless zip-fronted jerkins is admirable.
Moreover, it seems that one of the main reasons for tonight’s show is that they finally, have a new album ready to go, and they’re eager to share some of the tracks live.
And so they kick off the set with ‘Talk About the Weather’, and truth be told, I could leave and be happy already. But of course, I don’t, and they proceed to deliver a career-spanning set which features a cluster of new songs, with ‘Safe as Houses; and ‘Piece of My Mind’ being standouts.
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Sonically, they’re as dense and steely as ever, and Reed’s vocals are still strong, his gravelly monotone a vessel of bleak nihilism and anger. It’s backed by a dense wall of noise, the twin guitar attack of Reed and David Wolfenden built upon a mesh of interweaving notes. The rhythm section is taut, solid, almost mechanical, and it’s interesting to note there seem to be more Killing Joke T-shirts around than there are Sisters or Mission.
‘I Can See Stars’ from their 1991 album ‘Blasting Off’ revealed their softer, more reflective side and was dispatched early, as was ‘Hollow Eyes’: meanwhile, ‘Cut Down’ is all about the simmering chug, while ‘Jipp’ landed around the midway point and the crowd – a surprising mix with a lot more young faces than one would probably expect – really started to get going. ‘Hold Yourself Down’ fired full throttle, and ‘Walking on Your Hands’ saw the front rows really wig out, and rightly so. They wrap things up with a thunderous rendition of ‘Chance’ that’s as sinewy as Chris Reeds arms.
It’s clear they’re not in cruise mode here, and it’s rare to witness a band at this stage in their career so focused, so intense and so intent: bands thirty years younger should take note.
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