Mclusky - EartH, London, 29/06/2025
By F. Tuck
Formed in Cardiff nearly 30 years ago, Mclusky released three acclaimed albums over the space of four years before imploding somewhat abruptly, some might say rudely, without so much as a warning, apology or explanation. Although beloved by many, their weird, jarring, angular noise struggled to find footing beyond devoted Steve Albini worshippers, but 2025 is a weird, jarring, angular time, and if there’s any justice in this world Mclusky will be our soundtrack.
Approaching the end of the brilliantly titled Strangers Are Just Friends We Haven’t Monetised Yet tour, the band saunter onto EartH’s sparse but modern stage without any fanfare, before gingerly plucking out the quiet, strained chords of Fuck This Band. As understated entrances go it’s hard to beat, and judging by the chatter from the back of the crowd many are still blissfully unaware that the show has even started, but it’s a calm that doesn’t last long. The song ends, frontman Falco casually collects his tinnitus-protecting headphones from the back of the stage, and with the gentlest of nods the trio barrel full force into the angry, vitriolic Lightsabre Cocksucking Blues. That confirms it then. This is no last-minute soundcheck, this is all out war.
Songs that sound taut and constrained on record explode in a dizzying flurry of noise and excitement, seemingly starved of attention and desperate to be heard somewhere other than BBC Radio 6. In lesser hands, scabrous blasts of distortion tumbling into sweet, soulful balladry can be a disorientating experience, but the brilliance of Mclusky is that’s there’s always something buried in the mix to hold on to - a riff, a lyric, a weird vocal tic - meaning it’s impossible to look away.
As ever Falco is their not-so-secret weapon, a sarcastic embodiment of catharsis who can resort to visceral growls and screeches when words simply aren’t enough and still be considered one of the greatest lyricists of all time. To his left, relative newcomer Damien Sewell is equally eye-catching, dancing and swaying like a River Island Christopher Walken while churning out filthy amounts of bass that sound like a train is bearing down on you. It’s a glorious partnership, and once both have warmed up a bit the show takes on a new dimension as they begin exchanging genuinely funny jokes across the divide. Slowly but surely it become clear that this evening, this tour, this album, this comeback means something very special to those on stage as well as those along for the ride, and a heartfelt story about a recent near-death experience only confirms as much.
A healthy clutch of new songs from their first album in over 20 years, The World Is Still Here And So Are We, are included for good reason, and although not all are met with the same fervour as the classics, it’s hard not see Unpopular Parts Of A Pig and Kafka-esque Novelist Franz Kafka remaining in the setlist for some time to come. Cameras are out in force for the former, while the non-stop edging of the latter keeps the moshpit in perpetual motion from start to end. It’s a wonder anyone in the crowd has any energy left come the final double-tap of Whoyouknow and To Hell With Good Intentions, but the intensity given by some to screaming “and we’re all going straight to hell” is alarming to say the least. Who knew white noise could be so damn catchy and danceable?
The world wasn't ready for Mclusky in 2005, maybe it still isn’t in 2025, but at least this time you’ve been warned. The band have announced more UK shows for October / November. Be there.
