In the sepulchral glow of The Garage, Islington, Desperate Journalist took to the stage once more, and though the fairy lights had vanished, a deeper, more luminous brilliance remained.
In an era where the word “indie” has been watered down to a flavourless puddle of algorithm-fed mediocrity, Desperate Journalist stand as a remarkable exception—a band that fiercely reclaims and redefines the spirit of the genre.
Back in 2019, we praised them as a beacon of true indie ethos. Returning to The Garage six years later, we carried a nagging doubt—what if they hadn’t moved forward? Those fears were quickly dispelled. They certainly had evolved, with a sharper, deeper sound, staying true to what made them unique while embracing a refined sound that feels both mature and invigorated.
Yes, gone were the fairy lights that once adorned the microphone, but in their place was an even brighter radiance: the seismic growth of Jo Bevan’s vocal mastery. It’s unclear why this came as such a surprise, but her voice has matured into a weapon of emotional precision—cutting, soaring, and commanding in ways that gripped the audience by the collar and demanded they feel every note, every word, every unspoken ache. It left us wondering if angels, too, have learned to sing of alienation.
Her voice soared over and punctuated the melodies, weaving between moments of delicacy and defiance with seamless versatility."
At once tender and powerful, her performance channeled the softness of Sarah Cracknell from St Etienne, the strength of Sonya Madan from Echobelly, and even the yelping quirkiness of Björk circa The Sugarcubes. Her voice soared over and punctuated the melodies, weaving between moments of delicacy and defiance with seamless versatility.
Musically, the band remains a kaleidoscopic fusion of post-punk urgency, jangly 80s melancholia, and the raw, bittersweet grit of 90s indie. Yet, their sound has developed a newfound complexity, layering shimmering Interpol-esque atmospherics over the kind of anthemic hooks that make you want to fling yourself headlong into the throng. Tracks like Control and Hollow were no longer just callbacks to their influences; they had blossomed into standalone triumphs, bringing that fresh vitality to the indie canon.
Chords chime and ring out like early The Cure—sometimes sparse, allowing the songs to breathe and the vocals to shine"
Rob Hardy’s guitar work continues to anchor their live sound with an intoxicating mix of grit and grandeur. Chords chime and ring out like early The Cure—sometimes sparse, allowing the songs to breathe and the vocals to shine, and at other times building a formidable wall of sound. When the lead drove forward, combined with chugging, eyeliner-heavy bass lines from Simon D. Rowner and weighty reverb on the vocals, the result was a soundscape as arresting as it was immersive. This juxtaposition of sparseness and sheer sonic ferocity gave the music an emotional ebb and flow that felt cinematic in its scope.
Caroline “Caz” Helbert on drums provided a powerful, driving force that underscored the band’s dynamic range. Her precise, thunderous rhythms seamlessly shifted between restraint and explosive energy, as precise and punchy as six years ago.
The set was peppered with indie power ballads—songs you could jump up and down to but which also carried a deeper, darker sorrow. There was an edge of gothic ethereal, reminiscent of The Doves at their most brooding but tinged with a haunting romanticism that was uniquely Desperate Journalist.
Happily, Desperate Journalist are not content to ride waves of nostalgia. They are architects of something enduring, something essential—a band that bridges eras with authenticity and fervour. The 1980s spirit of romantic defiance is alive and well in their music, paired with a sharp, 2025 edge that feels like a rallying cry for the disenchanted. We know this to be true—we were there.
Desperate Journalist’s brilliance burns brighter than ever"
As Jo poured her soul from Consolation to Satellite, the room was reminded why we fell in love with indie in the first place, and why it still matters. The fairy lights may be gone, but Desperate Journalist’s brilliance burns brighter than ever—a dazzling flame that refuses to go out.
DESPERATE JOURNALIST played at The Garage, Islington – January 23, 2025
Support from DEUX FURIEUSES
