It’s rare that the ambience of a venue matches a band’s sound near perfectly, but Snayx and Village Underground are a match made, if not in heaven, then somewhere close to it. Raw, unadorned, vital and with a clear sense of where it all began, the Snayx sound batters the bare railway arches, practically leaving scratches in the brickwork.
“Oi! I said, let’s fuckin’ have it London!” sneers vocalist Charlie Herridge, one hand tucked behind his back, “it’s Tuesday innit?” He dips in and out of spoken word on ‘Concrete’, his compelling ranting making the track less melodic but more rage filled than you’d expect, backed by Ollie Horner’s endless shredding. His broken tape bass style lights the touch paper for ‘Cigarette’ to go off, giving the energy of a soapbox big enough for us all to dance on. They barely slow between songs, and you get the feeling that the hype they’re building up is liquified and funnelled into their live shows. ‘I’m Deranged’ is a tune that’s almost foaming at the mouth, but the atmosphere never turns feral. Someone crowd surfs to the stage and Herridge helps him up; he stands there, slightly unsure what to do now, then gently jumps back in and floats around like he’s on an inflatable in a holiday pool while ‘Body Language (She Can Read My)’ grooves in the background. Snayx never need to ask for a pit, or start any crowd shenanigans: it’s instinctual and implicit, driven by their in-your-face style.
There’s never a sense that Snayx take themselves too seriously though, despite the fact their music is rarely lighthearted. The rasp Herridge adopts on ‘Better Days’ works for him, and so does the way the rising synth clashes with the rowdy pit. His accent on ‘King’ drives a collective resonance, and he adds more narrative to the track, smacking himself on the head as he climbs onto the speaker stack as Horner puffs his cheeks in concern at an especially petite surfer. With a melody like a clawing dream, ‘Boys in Blue’ is full of sarcastic vitriol, with the band pounding fingers in the air in accusation. However, when there’s a lull after the delightfully nasty fuzz of ‘Sink Of Swim’, they begin to hand out water, and someone in the front row asks instead for the bottle of Buckfast that Herridge has been swigging from all night. “You want my Bucky? I ain’t done with it yet,” he laughs before giving the fan a taste.
This is an evening of potential, judging by the more recent songs in the set. The first of two new tracks getting an airing, ‘Braincells’ is a whirlpool heavy on the politics and heavier on the pounding, leaving debris that we cling to in its wake. “We recently went into the studio and got asked to record a little cover,” Herridge reveals. The picked a song from “one of our favourite bands of all time”, and their update of the Prodigy’s ‘Breathe’ is a revelation, exposing the punk energy that was under the surface of the song all along. The edges of the circle pit bounce light on their feet like boxers before the drop on a version that’s equal parts brutality and fun. Snayx close with another new song, ‘Violence’. Rough and mechanical, it loops back over itself, and it’s clear there’s a subtle shift in the Snayx sound, an unhinged quality that’s a signal to the universe that the band are raring to go. The pit rises again one last time, circling a single nervous photographer, precariously trying to capture a final shot.
Rough and ready, Snayx are gathering momentum and refining their raw message with a tough, uncompromising sound that’s an infinite burst of distortion, rowdiness and disordered modern punk gold. After only an hour set, you’ll come out sonically battered and bruised, but all the better for it.
KATE ALLVEY