LIVE FROM THE PIT: Call Me Amour, Fort Hope and Royals

Exchange Bristol didn’t feel like a venue so much as a sealed chamber, pressurised and waiting to rupture. From the moment the room began to fill, a low hum of anticipation settled into the walls — bodies packed close, lights dimmed, conversations swallowed by bass bleed from the stage. This wasn’t a night built for distance or detachment. It was a night designed to pull inward, to collapse the space between artist and audience until everything existed on the same plane. Three bands would take that tension and shape it, escalating the atmosphere piece by piece until release became inevitable.

ROYALS were first to step into the fray, and they did so without hesitation. Their pop-punk energy cut sharply through the early-evening fog, injecting movement into the room before anyone had time to settle. There was a restless edge to their performance — not frantic, but alive — guitars snapping and drums driving forward with intent. Rather than easing the crowd in, ROYALS jolted them awake.

Frontman Luke Smithson carried a casual confidence, speaking just enough between songs to anchor the set without breaking momentum. Mentions of their upcoming debut album High Stakes & Heartaches and planned release shows landed naturally, woven into the flow rather than dropped as interruptions. The music did most of the talking anyway — hook-heavy, punchy, and delivered with the kind of looseness that thrives in close quarters.

The set’s defining moment arrived during “Spinning Out”. Bassist Tom Guildford handed his instrument over mid-song and plunged into the crowd, harsh vocals tearing through the room as the first mosh pit ignited beneath the low ceiling. It was chaotic, imperfect, and exactly right — the moment where the night’s energy tipped from anticipation into motion.

If ROYALS sparked the fuse, FORT HOPE widened the space. Their entrance shifted the emotional temperature of the room, replacing urgency with something broader and more enveloping. Visually understated, they let texture and melody do the work, building an atmosphere that felt far larger than Exchange’s modest capacity.

Their sound unfurled patiently, each song expanding outward like a held breath finally released. Shimmering guitars and steady rhythms formed a foundation that carried Jon Gaskin’s vocals high above the crowd, his delivery equal parts reassurance and resolve. “Cardinale (Runway Monday)” landed with particular weight, its familiar refrain echoing back from a crowd fully locked in.

Newer material, especially “Powers” from Palaces Palaces, reinforced FORT HOPE’s ability to balance uplift with emotional depth. Rather than overwhelming the room, their set drew people inward, bodies stilled and eyes fixed forward. It was a reminder that intensity doesn’t always arrive at full volume — sometimes it manifests as collective stillness.

By the time CALL ME AMOUR emerged, the room was primed — not just ready, but receptive. Neon light flooded the stage, casting the band in sharp silhouettes against an industrial glow that felt torn from some near-future dystopia. The visual language matched the music perfectly: dark, synthetic, and charged with emotion.

They opened with “Where’s the Chemistry?”, its pulsing electronics immediately tightening the grip on the crowd. Tracks from the Revolution EP followed, each one layering tension atop momentum, the sound thickening until it felt almost physical. CALL ME AMOUR didn’t simply perform to the room — they folded themselves into it.

Harry Radford commanded attention without posturing, his presence magnetic in a way that felt honest rather than rehearsed. Between songs, he spoke about music as a way to quiet the noise in his head, an invitation rather than a statement. When the band launched into “IMFKD”, the crowd responded instinctively, movement spreading through the floor like a shared reflex.

“Tourniquet” detonated that energy fully. The boundary between stage and audience dissolved as Radford climbed down into the crowd, soon joined by guitarist Geoff Murphy and bassist Arran Lomax. What followed felt less like a performance and more like a collective release — voices raised, bodies colliding, sweat dripping from the ceiling.

The set surged forward relentlessly. “Happy Hell” and “Good Day” hit with sharp emotional contrast, before the band slipped briefly from the stage, tension left hanging in the air. When they returned, “Bloom” was met with a roar, its chorus swallowed and amplified by the crowd.

Before “Girl on the Wall”, Radford shared a candid story of mental fog and self-destruction, grounding the moment in vulnerability. The song landed heavy, its weight shared across the room.

Though framed as the end, the night closed with “Dreams”. Once again, the band stepped into the crowd, arms linked, a circle formed — a fleeting moment of unity suspended in sound. When the lights finally rose, Exchange exhaled.

ROYALS had ignited movement, FORT HOPE had widened the emotional field, and CALL ME AMOUR had pulled everyone into the centre and held them there. It wasn’t just a gig — it was immersion, release, and connection rendered tangible.

And everyone who stood inside that room felt it.

Words: Mia Gailey

Photos: Ely King