Founded in 2019 as a primarily cassette-focused venture, Ripcord Records has since grown to become one of the most exciting labels in the UK, with a wealth of post-metal, post-rock and hardcore gems to its name. In a sense, then, a festival that celebrates its status being held in one of Glasgow’s most highly renowned venues feels a natural progression, a wee full stop to mark the end of one chapter and the beginning of another. But did it have to go this hard? Given that they’ve never seemingly done anything by half measures, the answer to that is obviously “yes” and that’s precisely why Nice N Sleazy is already filling up at the ungodly hour of 2pm on a Saturday afternoon.
Opening proceedings are Wolves, who are what a committee of punks, metalheads and generally cool people would come up with if they were asked to assemble the perfect festival opener. It’s chaotic, it’s energetic, it’s both self-aware and socially-aware, and it honestly just delivers all the energy and aggression needed to wake the room up. Working initially with a three-guitar, four-vocalist setup, their take on Dillinger Escape Plan-esque noodly metal is a frantic and kinetic affair but as they drift into spoken word jazz breaks and splashes of melodic hardcore, any attempts to pin them down fall flat. Instead, people just gawp as bassist Andy Price barrels across the floor in front of the stage (evidently the only space big enough to contain him) while Mark Howes proves similarly unpredictable on the stage. The musicianship is on point, just the right blend of sheer heft and deft intricacy to leave the listener’s body having no idea what to do apart from be swept up in all that wild abandon, while their lyrical attacks on fascism and day-to-day turmoil makes them an emotionally engaging act ideal for both the occasion and the times that we find ourselves living in.
Wolves. Photo: Bruce Cowie
Though they do dial the intensity back, Solars are no less fascinating to watch and certainly bring the energy in their own way. From a muted, skittish beginning, they begin to build up a head of steam, a heady cauldron of duelling guitar lines, off-kilter percussion and propulsive riffing that verges on euphoria. The melodies never quite let the room get too comfortable, shifting from the obligatory explosions of post-rock extravagance to little echoes of jazz fusion and 90s alt-rock, all executed with confident precision, so the audience are just left to bounce and headband along with smiles plastered across their faces. Closing with the title track from 2024’s A Fading Future, it’s a suitably overblown finale from a band who seem to encapsulate everything that makes guitars great.
Solars. Photo: Bruce Cowie
The transition to Civil Service’s take on post-rock is perhaps one of the day’s less jarring shifts but to compare the two bands would be a fool’s errand. Opening with ‘URBNDCY’, it’s a big, glittery burst of shoegaze dreaminess that feels immediately invigorating, a testament to the band’s ability to captivate the listener with a well-placed riff or just the right amount of reverb. Playing to projections of industrial machinery, crashing waves and desolate forests, all while utilising samples in lieu of live vocals, their set is meticulously planned but there’s no rigidity in how they come across. It feels emotional and heartfelt, not least when ‘Turn Out The /// Light’ and its dedication to Ripcord Records’ work with suicide prevention charities as well as a late friend drives home how much this band means to the people who have clustered at the front row to bellow along with the heartfelt cries of “Don’t turn out the light.” It’s a move beyond genre clichés and into something unifying, and the feeling of warmth it elicits is likely to stay with the people here long after the last note has been struck.
Civil Service. Photo: Bruce Cowie
And then it’s time for something completely different. That’s not to say that Helve aren’t capable of tugging at the old heartstrings, but they’re far more likely to do so after tearing straight through the chest cavity to get to them. Leading with a mammoth rendition of ‘Teeth’, its ample playtime gives not only plenty of space for band to show their considerable chops, the chugging riffs hitting hard enough to be felt in the stomach while the harsh screams drip with a palpable sense of misery, but also their masterful range. It’s a song that contains multitudes, big slabs of southern-fried doom and ghostly ambience, blending old and new to fascinating effect. They fully commit themselves to the atmosphere they create, throwing physical weight behind sonic, and maybe that’s why there’s already talk of them being the band of the day as ‘Scarlet Rot’ comes to a juddering and absolutely punishing climax.
Helve. Photo: Bruce Cowie
Back aboard the big beautiful instru-rock train, it’s Million Moons to deliver what is basically a masterclass in sonic world-building. As Ed Thompson’s haunting piano intro is layered over flighty bursts of tremolo and even a touch of epic guitar posturing, you can already see the images playing out in the mind: staring out to sea from the edge of a windswept cliff, stars blazing across the night sky as drums and guitar build up volume and urgency, the dramatic final act as swirling melodies and fevered percussion meet in a collision of passion and pure musical joy. Yep, it’s definitely post-rock but it’s rare that it’s executed with this much ambition and expertise, each transition between ice-cool beauty and blazes of energy feeling like a shift in narrative rather than whiplash contrast for drama’s sake. The inclusion of a new song gives those familiar with the band something to salivate over, a gorgeous but unassuming first half giving way to some of their most impassioned playing of the day, but it’s the explosion of colour and sound of ‘Aurora’ that makes for their most memorable moment.
Million Moons. Photo: Bruce Cowie
For anyone that has made it out today, there’s a good chance that Beneath A Steel Sky will be the band most familiar to them. They’ve been a staple of Glasgow’s heavy scene for the past year or two and have built up a solid following over that time as well as giving them the chance to hone their live shows to a razor edge. The contrast between gossamer-fine post-rock and crushing metal is mirrored by similarly opposing vocals, Greg Armstrong sounding positively feral when stacked up against soft cleans and even a lovely three-part harmony during ‘Quetzalcoatlus’, and as they build up their set from these elements of light and shade, the genius of the band becomes readily apparent. It does help that they sound fantastic tonight, the basslines humming with warmth while the guitars come through bright and clear, but if any complaint can be given, it’s that half an hour isn’t nearly long enough to spend in their company.
Beneath A Steel Sky. Photo: Bruce Cowie
The prize for ‘most chaotic band of the day’ has to go to Indifferent Engine, whose set is an exercise in volatility as an art form. Adam Paul is both an electrifying vocalist and an absolute menace on the stage, frequently latching on to his bandmates and dragging them across the stage as they attempt feats of musical dexterity that would have been difficult enough on their own, let alone with a hyperkinetic moustachioed man attached. There’s undoubtedly a touch of At The Drive-In’s influence at work, their janky rhythms and stream-of-consciousness lyricism scratching that same odd itch, yet they are happy to forge their own path, detouring into more ambient and experimental territory when the occasion demands. Ali Gibbons has a spry, almost funky, approach to drumming that fits the flightiness of their songs, and paired with Alex Wheatley’s melody-forward bass-work, they make for a unique rhythmic duo. With the perfect blend of wild abandon, dreamy hooks and the right level of proggy weirdness, they are one of those bands that everybody should see once in their lifetime.
Indifferent Engine. Photo: Bruce Cowie
Primarily lit by an array of coloured strip-light panels behind them, Codespeaker aren’t the first band of the day to have a visual component to their set, but this hits different. Here it’s a match to the starkness and aggression of their sound, another way to assault the senses and leave the audience a little bit the worse for wear. Their take on post-metal is uncompromising in its approach, ‘Signum’ an onslaught of lock-tight percussion and yet another savage vocal performance from Greg Armstrong. Even though it’s his second set of the day, he shows no sign of weariness; hell, he looks reinvigorated, no longer trapped behind a table of electronics and able to throw his body as well as his soul into the performance. ‘Carthage’ shows a broader range from the band, Bob Fraser and Adam Thornton demonstrating both restraint and depth during the opening passages, though they do revert to more punishing form come the ten-ton crush that is its final moments. The word ‘brutalist’ has been batted around with Codespeaker for quite a while, and this set is a good demonstration of why that is apt. They expound the beauty that comes from rigidity and cleanness of form, showing that no matter how harsh something may be on the surface it is capable of moving the mind and the soul.
Codespeaker. Photo: Bruce Cowie
By the time Hundred Year Old Man make it onstage, the energy should probably be starting to flag, but the room has been anticipating this for way too long. Their reputation for being sonically and emotionally devastating precedes them and they do not disappoint, a stealthy build-up growing and twisting into a juggernaut of post-metal wrath. From their sparing use of samples to the juxtaposition of vocals that fizzle with pain and loss, and riffing that provides glimpses of hope within the gloom, nothing about this is obvious; instead, it’s refreshing to watch a performance that is so well thought out delivered with power, passion and integrity. The sound is tight and crisp, Andy Baron’s drumming hitting with the brutal precision of a hammer to the temple, and the power of their guitars is not just in overwhelming volume but in the melancholy they infuse into their clean lines. A guest appearance from Greg Armstrong, his third stint of the night, gives them a chance to ramp things up even more and as the set finally ends, it does so not with an explosion of sound but with the simmering fire of a dying star.
Hundred Year Old Man. Photo: Bruce Cowie
With that, Ripcord Fest comes to an end on an undeniable high. As a celebration of the label and of British heavy music as a whole, it’s a triumph; but even beyond that, it’s been a joyful occasion. People have undoubtedly discovered new bands, plenty have made new friends, and it feels like an entire community has chipped in to make the day worth remembering. With the second instalment of the fest having just been announced, Ripcord has its work cut out in matching up to this, but they never do anything by half measures – the best is likely yet to come.
