Slalom D opened the night with a set that felt sharp, tight, and full of purpose. They’re one of those bands who know exactly what they want to say and exactly how they want to say it. Musically, they hit that sweet spot between punk bite and melodic clarity — songs that punch hard but still carry hooks you remember on the bus home.
The rhythm section was the backbone of their sound: driving, insistent, and locked‑in. Over the top, the guitars added grit without drowning the vocals, which were delivered with a confident, almost conversational edge. There’s a social awareness in their lyrics — not preachy, not heavy‑handed, just observant and sharp, the kind of commentary that fits perfectly in a venue like The Globe.
What really stood out was their connection with the audience. They played like a band who genuinely enjoy being onstage, feeding off the room’s energy and giving it straight back. The crowd warmed to them quickly, and by the midpoint of the set, you could feel that lovely shift where people stop “watching” and start engaging.
Slalom D set the tone for the night brilliantly — energetic, thoughtful, and full of character. A proper North‑East punk performance: honest, loud, and delivered with heart.
TV Smith walked onto The Globe’s stage with the kind of presence that doesn’t need theatrics. Just a guitar, a voice, and decades of punk truth‑telling behind him. What struck you straight away was how alive he still is onstage — not in a nostalgic “remember when” way, but in that sharp, urgent manner that made him stand out in the first place.
His set was a masterclass in directness. No fluff, no filler, just songs delivered with absolute conviction. The Globe’s intimate space worked in his favour: every lyric landed, every chord felt like it was aimed straight at the front row. He’s got that rare ability to make a room feel like a conversation rather than a performance — half gig, half rally, half storytelling session.
The newer material sat comfortably alongside the classics. He plays with a kind of wiry intensity, the guitar almost percussive at times, driving the songs forward. And his voice — still cutting, still expressive — carried the weight of someone who’s lived every word he sings. The crowd responded with real warmth, leaning in, listening, and giving him the kind of respect only earned through years of honesty and graft.
By the end, it felt less like watching a punk veteran and more like witnessing someone who never stopped meaning it. TV Smith remains a force — articulate, passionate, and utterly compelling.
Words & images: Bernie Penman
