Two packed rooms, two very different bands, and a weekend that shows what Bristol's live music scene does best.
W: Sam Walker-Smart I: Rhys Dolman
Friday: Sports, Strange Brew
Storm Austen tore through the South West on Friday morning, cutting power to thousands of homes in Cornwall. By the time I reached Strange Brew that evening, the worst had passed, leaving Bristol chilly but dry, and with the longest queue I've ever seen outside the venue.
It snaked off down the side street: sixteen-to-early-twenties fans, ID's in hand, a few latecomers still trying their luck for tickets. The look was crop tops, Y2K Vinted finds and various treasures unearthed from Bristol's ever-expanding collection of thrift shops. Sold out, and buzzing. Everyone was visibly hyped to see Sports in the flesh, and you could feel it all the way down the street. Ask one fan in the line why she'd come and she summed it up in a breath: “They're hot, I'm a little drunk and it's instagrammable.”
The mood was easy and friendly, a small, safe space with a mixed crowd, no aggro and plenty of goodwill. Parents had brought their kids along, which says something about gig-going in this city: it starts young and, as far as I can tell, never stops.
It's also exciting to see what comes through the door. Sports have 5.3 million monthly Spotify listeners and a string of viral hits, yet here they were, all the way from the States, playing to a few hundred people in an independent Bristol venue. They brought a bit of rock-star gloss to this intimate room, and the crowd clearly knew how lucky they were.
Backstage, the gloss was harder to find. Vocalist Cale Chronister hunched over a portable heater before the show, a less glamorous image of rock stardom than the one waiting onstage. I chatted to the band's tour manager, who described a relentless tour, with more dates still to come once this run is over. He said it's been a bit of a shock how suddenly things have ignited this year, with shows going out so quickly. The true workings of the music industry, even now, sit a long way from the perception: vans, venues, heaters, repeat.
Then the lights dropped and the set was as polished as the queue had promised. Sports make smooth, glossy synth-pop, and the performance followed suit: tight, controlled and almost faultless, with the precision of a band whose songs have already lived a thousand lives online. When 'You Are The Right One' and 'Tell You Something' arrived, the room roared with joy, and right at the front a few devoted fans stood clutching their chests, eyes locked on the singer. For a band whose sound is so cool, the reaction was warm and unguarded. By 9:30 it was done.
Saturday: Personal Trainer, Thekla
If Friday was the warm-up, Saturday was the main event. Storm Boelo had Bristol in its sights, and everyone heading down to the harbour looked like they'd been fished out of it. Which made the dark bowels of Thekla a cosy retreat, and the ship itself a pleasing piece of context. Built in 1958 as a trading vessel designed to carry heavy goods between northern and western European ports, she's now a floating venue full of damp coats and louder-than-the-weather guitars.
Amsterdam's Personal Trainer, I was happy to find, were in good spirits. They'd fortified themselves with a warming bowl of noodles before the show. Then came the kind of backstage coincidence you couldn't plan: they bumped into Alex G, the American singer-songwriter and multi-instrumentalist who has been a major influence on the band. He ended up joining them onstage for a song.
The band joked that they seem to reappear at Thekla every two years or so, often with a support act who goes on to outgrow them. Westside Cowboy and Bristol's own Getdown Services are recent examples. It's the Bristol ecosystem in full effect: Alex G, a Frank Ocean collaborator, turning up on a soaking Saturday night, and local bands going on to get big worldwide, all through the same low doorway.
Onstage, they were in excellent form, smashing through songs from their new album 'Human Assholes' alongside favourites like 'Still Waiting'. Where Sports had been polished and low-key, this was loud, rough and alive. The crowd was all obligatory band tees, jumpsuits, and fedoras on the older folks, mainly for rain resistance. Middle-aged fans rocked out on the balconies, while one younger fan in fresh Personal Trainer merch watched doe-eyed at the front as frontman Willem Smit danced, thrashed and swayed like a madman, Stella often in hand.
Despite far fewer monthly streams than Sports, Thekla was packed and the crowd loved every minute of it. Great vibes all round, and proof that good old-fashioned touring can build a reliable fanbase. The merch table was swamped before the show and after it.
Two nights, one city
Two very different bands, two packed rooms, and a city that showed up for both. Sports arrived with millions of monthly listeners and the feeling of a band on the brink of something bigger. Personal Trainer brought something less measurable: years of touring, a loyal audience and a merch table that barely had time to breathe.
That's what Bristol does well. It makes room for sudden viral success and the slow-burning career, for teenagers discovering a band and older fans who've been doing this for decades. The weather can be filthy, the venues small and the journey home miserable. None of it seems to matter.
Is Bristol the UK's best live music city? That's an argument for another night. After this weekend, I know which side I'm on.