SWMRS @ The Owl Sanctuary

As an unapologetic pop fan, I don’t spend a lot of time at the Owl Sanctuary, instead opting to admire the music and ethos from afar. But when three up-and-coming bands from both sides of the Atlantic join forces for a night of beer, sweat and madness (courtesy of local tastemakers Upsurge) you can count on me to get stuck right in.

Leeds outfit Brawlers give an empowering kick up the arse to the small bunch of early-comers. What starts as an irritated semi-rant at the lack of energy in the room – “it’s Saturday night, for god’s sake!” – quickly changes tack as frontman Harry Johns hops off stage and thanks Norwich passionately for not letting this very venue get lost to gentrification and bad guys. iPhone torches are held in a modern day lighter moment for a song before we’re invited on stage, and a half hour set that started awkwardly ends in an unruly mess of rock and roll anarchy.

Fresh (ish) from playing at Reading and Leeds fests, Dead! are second on, delivering a much slicker but equally buzz-worthy performance. Hailing from London, the quintet make angsty rock with immaculate production. Live, guitars screech left and right whilst frontman Alex Mountford delivers a formidable vocal. There’s a boy band quality about the skinny jean-donning lads, similar to The 1975 or Twenty One Pilots, but in a genuinely cool way, not in a ‘your mum will probably dig this’ kind of way. Closer You’re So Cheap is the track to check out, a mighty assault of wobbly riffs and cathartic lyrics that looks to be the start of a bright career for this talented bunch.

If you aren’t familiar with SWMRS, imagine if The Sex Pistols had been raised in California and indulged in skateboarding instead of heroin. Comprised of brothers Cole and Max Becker on vocals and guitar, Seb Mueller on bass and drummer Joey Armstrong (son of the Billy Joe, would you believe) this quartet make surf-punk belters that stir the shit in venues here and on home turf. It’s unfortunate that The Owl is hardly bursting tonight, but those of us who are here are treated to blistering guitar action from the first note of Harry Dean. The set isn’t long, but pure fun is packed into an hour or so of sweat inducing chaos. Miley (an ode to, you guessed it…) gets a decent sing-along midway through with its meteoric choruses, as does Drive North, a tender ‘fuck you’ to the boredom of home towns that seems to ring true with some of the younger members of the audience. It’s also the title track of the group’s debut album, produced by fellow Cali rocker Zac Carper (of FIDLAR) which gets a good showing off this evening.

The feeling of liberation is taken to a new level with a spirited monologue from Cole, condemning the intolerance of people like Donald Trump and Brexit supporters, but ending in a show of affection to the people of Norwich for giving SWMRS such a victorious welcome. To balance the serious tone out, an amicable wall of death promptly follows with beers flung in every direction. The downright anthem that is Figuring It Out signals the end of an outstanding and euphoric stop-off from these vibrant young punks, who I hope will return for a victory lap in the near future.