LIVE FROM THE PIT: Rifle, Luxury Apartments and Big Problem
- Jakub Tomasz Czaicki
- 2 hours ago
- 4 min read
There begins an almost divine premonition at small, personal venues, the first weaving stanzas of a story born in a manger of sticky floors and blown out speakers. A prophecy found somewhere between the dark ceiling, its pattern lost under layers of thick paint and grease, between the bands politely shouting to a sound-tech only across the room, and the screeching roadworks just outside. That, sooner rather than later, the bands here will be found on great, windswept stages, for crowds for whom eye contact with their favourites is a pipe dream to be lost in the maelstrom of the pit: that those spectacular stages will, simply, never compare to the biblical beginnings.
RIFLE’s lightning campaign across Europe celebrating the release of their self-titled LP last January has stormed across Britain in the closing days of March- flanks guarded by the neighbourly LUXURY APARTMENTS on their return to London.
Stopping for provisions and pure northern hospitality in Manchester—courtesy of the local BIG PROBLEM—the reception found at RIFLE’s “second home” was warm, pleasant and blazing. Gritty, and with a certain inalienable whimsy inherent to such “Anarch-oi!” bards, the triple-threat run through Manchester’s Star And Garter was a show to boast of.
To open any venue is an interesting challenge for any band, but BIG PROBLEM’s probing volley well set the standard for the upcoming musical assault, making Manchester proud in welcoming the Londoner guests. With a certain rawness embedded throughout their grunge-drowned performance, their slower, more emotional pace bore their bloodied northern soul with passion, from their Grudge album tracks to The Grip. Distorted, gazing through the ceiling at the stars far above, their post-hardcore sound appeared designed to be listened to while driving the highways of Los Angeles after a traumatic night, but was more than ready to fill the compact venue with a sound California’s JULIE would certainly be proud of.
As BIG PROBLEM passed the torch of the stage on, melting right back into the cultured crowd of like-minded punks and anarchists of all ages—a sign punk truly never dies, venerable boot-cut jean wearing SHARP hooligans side-by-side with young punks with the glint of their own bands reflecting in the light—LUXURY APARTMENTS dove upon it like a band possessed.
Less a torch and more an artillery barrage, their descent into a maddening rampage of a sound blessed them with an instant presence, marching, speedy beat emphatically emphasised by Matthew Turner, the singer, deftly juggling vocals fit to be yelled across a burning protest with a keyboard played with an almost fantastical touch. Their performance had grabbed the entire hall- and refused to let go.
Mastering a macabre, foreboding undertone deftly slotted in-between the wide-eyed, half-crazed intensity spewing out the speakers, there was as much rage as there was humour to be found between the sound waves. The sheepish silences between songs perfectly framed the performance: quietly announcing “if you’re in the police force, this one might not be for you,” before dropping a near thermonuclear performance of Dicks Hate The Police, drowning out any potential pig-excusing criticism.
The arrival of RIFLE was less a walk to the stage, and more a gun suddenly pointed at the head of the universe. As if a prophet, Max Williams—the lead singer’s—ascension to the stage brought but one command:
“Come closer.”
Shoulder to shoulder, hall packed, face in the speakers and Max’s leather boots shining to a sheen at the crowds’ teeth-level, there could be no better way to experience Punk. Detonating almost instantly off of the stage with Gauntlet Of Hate, their performance was more than a victory lap of their new album, but a celebration of the community they brought together. To the left of the stage were band compatriots from Liverpool, and in the beauty of small venues, RIFLE did everything to show their continued support was much, much appreciated. Jumping from stage to floor, between smiling faces and fists raised high in the air, rambling across the venue with knee-jerk jubilation—coupled with Max’s downright loving treatment of the microphone stand—it was instantly clear RIFLE not only has the musical talent, but the sheer cultural presence to match.
Much should be said for the sheer whimsy on display. Absurdism and joy as resistance is near gospel amongst all sects of Punk, and RIFLE’s neatly dressed ensemble—fine pressed shirts, the singer’s delightful red jumper—did more than pay homage to the culture’s unserious sensibilities. It gave the impression of true friends, pub regulars at your local, who, despite all their humanity, despite their soul, had deigned to pick up arms and scream their rugged protest on behalf of all. Not constrained to the LP, RIFLE’s prioritisation of the inherent great time of such a gig brought forth both their older classics, and covers- blasting out MOTORHEAD’s Ace Of Spades to much the cheer of the united crowd, and ending on their own classic, Warfare.
To an infinite chant of “Rifle! Rifle! Rifle! Rifle!” from every corner of the creaking building, the bands’ descent back into the crowd was the perfect culmination to a gig fit for soon-to-be legend. Taking photos and drinks with wide-grinning fans, it truly was as if your regulars had simply descended from their brief heaven, perhaps unaware of the masterclass they had just performed. Their crowd will take today’s performances to the grave.
Words: Jakub Tomasz Czaicki
Photos: Ace Cheng
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