With acts like The Sukis and Luvcat gaining national attention, it’s time to lend a closer eye to the bands blossoming from Liverpool’s grassroots musical ecosystem. Liverpool has always had a rich musical legacy, having been the birthplace of The Beatles, and home to iconic venues such as the Cavern Club, and the Jacaranda where they debuted. Bands from the 1960s Merseybeat era shaped modern rock & roll; and in the following decades the city saw legends like Echo & the Bunnymen pioneering the post-punk genre. However, until recently, I held the dangerously false assumption that a legacy was all it was; that the city was clinging desperately on to its past achievements.
The talent rampant in Liverpool’s musical circuit is one of the city’s best-kept local secrets. Musicians playing sold-out headlines are still relying on word of mouth and Instagram flyers to promote their shows. Following in the footsteps of bands like The Molotovs (unintentionally as I later found out, the financial barriers to recording are vast) these bands are gaining traction from gigging alone. They play shoulder-to-shoulder concerts before even so much as creating a Spotify profile.
I discovered the very-much-still-alive scene (of which I am now a self-proclaimed groupie) through a friend. One evening, I veered my attention away from cooking to an enchanting riff originating from the corner of my apartment where the dusty acoustic guitar usually sits. She had recently formed a new band, Pocket, and I was delighted to hear that the melody was a work-in-progress original. What I heard that night would later emerge from its chrysalis into the fan favourite and Pocket setlist staple, Freeloader.
While lingering after their sets, I’ve had the pleasure of experiencing the many gifted products of the Jacaranda’s lowest floor; whom I have since grown to adore almost as much as the band that popped my Liverpool-rock-scene cherry. In a basement that seems to exist in a perpetual state of 3am, some of indie’s freshest talents are growing their wings.
On June 4, that same sardine-packed and sticky-floored venue became host to a black-tie soirée, fittingly titled the Rock and Roll Ball. Organised and headlined by The Boy – a cherished band amongst the scene – the event served the sole purpose of sonic celebration (as opposed to some sleazy promoter’s bottom line.) Pub-goers and band members swayed with fidgeting anticipation as Liverpool’s soon-to-be rockstars took the stage. Guests had played flirtatiously with the dress code, taking it more as suggestion than gospel, which created an avant-garde array of contenders for the high-stakes outfit competition hosted during the final set. The prize was a tattoo voucher from The Boy’s guitarist, Josie Waring.
Tickets were so oversold that even devout fans had to scramble for spares from the Instagram stories of those who could no longer make it. It acted as an honorary end-of-year formal for the music students of Liverpool’s five universities, who’ve become the dominating demographic on the scene. That being said, the entertainment was lightyears better and the atmosphere was much less stuffy, which made up entirely for the lack of a complimentary three-course meal. I made multiple futile attempts at sneaking my photographer through the side door before The Boy’s lead singer, Merry, graciously allowed him downstairs (sorry Merry, but as you know, the side door sneak-in is a Jac rite of passage).
Tearing up the stage as we entered were Superslug; a band suited perfectly for the fans of golden-era gritty Britpop. Their electric energy could fill an empty room and I can never quite decipher if they’re performing, fighting, or both. Since the ball, the band have streamlined into a three-piece, allowing the two former members to focus their energy on the equally adored Liverpool group, Temeraire. They’re currently recording demos at Briar Street Studios, exploring a more hardcore take on their sound whilst staying true to their acoustic-y nostalgia roots.
Once they trailed offstage, Pocket played what was unanimously crowned by friends and fans as their best gig yet. Polly’s sultry, rasping vocals blended with Oli’s effortlessly complex guitar riffs to become a singular voice. Between songs, drummer Jemima kept the crowd entertained – inciting an impromptu room-wide singalong of Taylor Swift’s Shake It Off. Within a few beats of each improvised drum solo, bassist Will joined for a freestyle jam sesh that illustrated the band’s palpable chemistry. They formed this January after meeting, as you do in university, through housemates and nights out. The five powerful ballads on their setlist took as many rehearsals to complete, and they rapidly solidified their spot as beloved regulars on the Jacaranda bill.
The Boy would have been the rightful closing set for this incredible affair whether they had organised it or not. The crowd seemed to double inside the already spaceless venue during the minutes preceding their set. It was near impossible to move so the whole crowd unified to dance as a single entity. The band was founded by two sisters, Merry and Josie, who brushed aside their siblingly squabbles at a young age for the greater good of their art. Their upbeat, funky energy – both in music and persona – coalesces perfectly with inspiration drawn from the blues to produce a futuristic take on vintage sounds.
Pevova, though part of the original lineup, attended the ball only in spirit. Their physical bodies had just concluded a whirlwind tour supporting the lockdown-shaping band, Sir Chloe (remember that song, ‘Michelle’?) and landed in a state of geographical sparsity. They’re the first band from this piece to break free from the cloak of local secrecy, having gained their cult fanbase through a combination of hypnotic stage presence and mystical, “shoegazey dreampop” (as described by their members). Mesmerising dance and the accompanying sound bath result in the need to ground yourself as they walk off stage; awakening from the hazy experience of a Derren Brown-esque trance. The connection between the founding members, rhythm guitarist Finn and lead singer Aimee, formed telepathically. They locked eyes across the LIPA (Liverpool Institute for Performing Arts) audition room, and were instantly washed with a notion of mutual understanding; of a pre-existing soul tie that begged for recognition. They met again when term started at the institute, and wrote their first song together that night. Their remaining four members joined later on, slowly collecting throughout their years at university to form the six-piece musical prodigy we know today.
Despite its if-you-know-you-know promotional strategy, Liverpool’s music circuit is actively thriving. The legacy continues outside of the mainstream as our new cohort of bands ensure that music paints the air and fills the streets. When you visit the city, it’s inescapable – regardless of whether you know where to look. Scousers and indie rock will forever be indivisible.
