Stood in the epicentre of a sudden mosh pit, it took until the first very first chorus of the evening to receive my first hard shove in the back. 30 seconds later I was doused in some fruity alcoholic beverage, which dripped from my hair into my mouth. There’s no space for queasiness at a gig like this. In fact, the flying drinks are all part of the complete sensory experience on offer at a Soft Play show. Forget smellovision – this was a gig you could taste.
In fact, standing there during Soft Play’s set was such an intense experience it became hard to pay any attention to the two men performing on stage - I was too busy trying to avoid crush injuries or checking my phone wasn’t going to fall out my pocket and be lost forever. Take a breather from the mosh pit (not always an easy thing to extricate yourself from, I found) and it turns out the actual music was quite good. Soft Play’s appeal lies largely in the colossal power of Laurie Vincent’s guitar, which offered a remarkably epic wall of noise for a single instrument. Vincent was the most powerful man in the room and he knew it, pouting at the front of stage as he glared towards the rabid fans like an emperor gazing over his dominion.
Vincent’s partner in crime was Isaac Holman, who provided abrasive vocals and an unorthodox drumming style: stood up, pounding both the upturned kick drum and snare with beaters. The result was a no-nonsense thump, neglecting the showy ten-tom drum fills and rapid hi-hats of typical punk music (indeed, one song tonight is titled ‘Fuck the Hi-Hat’) in favour of what resembled a tiring cardio routine for forearms. What Holman lacked in technical flair he made up for in sheer physical fitness – how he performs with such vigour every night of this UK tour is remarkable.
The band improbably entered to the dulcet tones of the Anglican hymn ‘All Things Bright and Beautiful’, perhaps an arch reference to the accusations of being ‘liberal softies’ when the band recently changed their name from Slaves to Soft Play. The peaceful entrance was, of course, a red herring: a lethal succession of the band’s nastiest hits followed. ‘Mirror Muscles’’s riff was nothing short of satanic, whilst ‘Bin Juice Disaster’’s rapid tempo provoked so much crowd mania that at one point I was knocked down to the floor along with the five people around me, dominoes-style. A relentless opening salvo of bangers ended with the terrific ‘Act Violently’, a song with an elephantine verse and unforgettable chorus hook. Written after Holman’s near miss with a reckless e-scooter rider, there was something wonderfully cathartic about chanting the lyrics “You make me wanna act violently” in a packed crowd of sweaty, smelly revellers. We all need a safe outlet for anger, and this was the musical equivalent to a well-equipped rage room.
What makes Soft Play stand out from their hardcore punk peers is not necessarily the vehemence of their songs, but the unexpected vulnerability barely hidden in the lyrics. Along with odes to violence, there were earnest tracks about Holman’s OCD, the dangers of drug use and even the contents of the singer’s therapy sessions. Soft Play’s most vulnerable song by far is ‘Everything & Nothing’, a stunning tearjerker about grief that concludes with an image of a starling murmuration at sunset. The pained lyrics were duly belted out by the suddenly motionless crowd in NX although, as heartfelt as Holman’s vocal delivery was, the song’s power was diminished by his lack of backing band. Vincent’s mandolin accompaniment was poignant but ultimately unsubstantial.
The peace and quiet was short lived. A contrived backstory preceded the 15-second shot of vodka that is ‘Girl Fight’, which included Holman commanding every audience member to “beat the shit out of each other… in a loving way.” Someone lost a shoe but, as it turned out after a long check, there were no substantial injuries this time. The most impassioned audience response was saved for the band’s defining single ‘Punk’s Dead’, which squarely addressed the complaints following band’s name change, with a chorus of “Why can’t you just stay the same?” that brilliantly threw the critics’ words right back at them. One insult featured in the song – too obscene to repeat here – was even printed in large letters on a tapestry behind the band which unfurled mid song. Lapped up by a sold out crowd, this was a joyous, emphatic victory over the haters.
Of course, there’s only so much you can do with just a guitar and (minimal) drums, and the two-man set up inevitably began to feel limiting as the concert concluded with the menacing riffs of ‘The Hunter’. Nonetheless, there are few musical duos that can produce a gig quite as exhilarating and exhausting as Soft Play. I emerged from NX holding someone’s smashed up sunglasses I’d found on the floor of the mosh pit, my shoelaces tattered after they came undone and I had no hope of doing them up mid-concert. My back was in pain, my shins were bruised, my hair was sticky with someone else’s alcohol, my skin had a pungent mix of my own and others’ sweat. I’ve never felt so disgusting and so alive.
