It might be easier to describe tonight with one word and one word only: sweat. But where’s the fun in that? Tonight is the third time that King Tuts has been graced with the presence of The Front Bottoms in the space of two years. Seeing as the show tonight is sold out, it’s safe to assume they’ve came, saw, and conquered this venue.
Hailing from Canada, tonight’s only support PUP (★★★★) come out and tear the house down. Admittedly, the crowd were hesitant at first to reflect their bounding energy that they emit straight from the get go. More heads start to bob as the set progresses, even some in the crowd knowing the words and finger-pointing along. While their aggression and vehemence on stage could be mistaken for genuine venom, they are soft spoken in the interim.
Although, singer Stefan Babcock threatens to crowd surf if the audience did not “go off” on the last song, Reservoir. In true Glasgow style, everyone gets more boisterous and true to his word, Babcock gets atop the crowd guitar in tow and manages to finish off the set in style.
The familiar sound of The Proclaimers coming from the speakers sees the start of a singalong, but that is tarnished when The Front Bottoms (★★★★★) walk out on stage. The four are all dressed up to the nines in matching tuxedo t-shirts, and waste no time launching into their hour and a half long set. They play a selection of tracks from their two studio albums, their self titled and Talon Of The Hawk, while also playing a new song currently titled Fuck, Jobs.
The jangly, upbeat sound of TFB is hideously infectious, and sends the crowd into a frenzy. Even one of their touching love songs – Peach – is met with hysteria. Songs are also played from their Rose EP, bringing a familiarity to the live setting with remastered versions of old songs. Another familiarity comes in the form of Rhiannon Dewar, megafan who has tattoos of both the frontman and drummer on each thigh as she gets up on stage once again to show off her now completed work.
The show is an overall triumph, as shown by the perspiration clinging to the ceiling and walls, which a feeling that The Front Bottom have finally gotten the show here that they deserve. A fun, buoyant, sweaty victory.