Gig review: Gustaf at The Bodega

I’ve always wanted to go to New York. One of the most influential cities in music, home to countless innovative and impactful scenes that reflect its history, intensity and vibrancy. It feels like a necessary pilgrimage: to walk the streets that spawned so many incredible sounds; full of dive bars, pizza by the slice and of course, bodegas. 

So it’s fitting that it’s at Nottingham’s own Bodega (see what I did there?) that NYC natives Gustaf transport the crowd 3000 miles or so west to the city that never sleeps. A term, coincidentally, that could be transposed to Gustaf’s brand of urgent, spiky art-punk. 

After being more than ably supported by Cousines Like Shit - sadly depleted in terms of band members tonight - performing their own anarchic brand of songs that reflect modernity and its laughable hypocrisies, Gustaf take the stage and immediately have it by the scruff of the neck.

They start with Statue, the lyric "I project way to the centre of the stage!" wryly appropriate  for an opener that serves as an immediate statement of intent. The tempo is quick, the rhythm section tight and propulsive. Looping bass lines become almost hypnotic as they lock in with tumbling drums. 

Singer Lydia Gammill is immediately captivating at said centre of the stage. Her face and body contorting as she half-sings, half-acts her way through a barrage of poignant, acerbic lyrics. Throughout the set, she lets the existential mania of the songs play out in her expressions, eyes darting as if asking questions of herself, of the crowd. Her presence is endlessly magnetic, adding a texture and dimensionality that makes the songs thrill live. 

Also at the front of the stage, with access to a literal box of percussive tricks, Tarra Thiessen Kherlopian is a relentlessly giddy ball of pure pep, grinning non-stop as she bangs a tin, squeaks a rubber chicken, dings a triangle and contributes pitch-shifted backing vocals. Her sheer happiness at dancing around and hitting things is utterly infectious. 

It is this combination of energies that makes Gustaf such a force live. The rock solid foundation provided by the bass, guitar and drums is perfectly counterbalanced by the relative anarchy in front, wild yelps and stream of consciousness barks always having a clockwork core to return to. 

Gammill’s between-song patter acts as a binding connective tissue across tracks, off-hand comments about the idiosyncrasies of British language morphing into poetic repetition before the rest of the band kick off. It lends to the aura of music as performance art and it’s at times like this that Gustaf most reflect the giants of New York’s art-rock past. 

They rattle through tracks from their two LPs to date. From I Won’s musing on a relationship seemingly gone wrong, to Dog’s canine jealousy, each track adds a layer to the unique, sometimes surreal, often quirky and always sharply observant outlook on Gustaf’s world. 

The sizeable Bodega crowd are more than happy to get down with the chaos. There’s a palpable and contagious sense of joy as the looseness takes hold. It’s just fun, of the most heartening kind. 

As the band surge to the end of their set via an extended introduction to each member - including guitarist Vram’s 'award-winning eyes' being compared to audience member Alison’s (also award-winning) - there’s barely a body not dancing, nor a face not plastered with a massive grin after being exposed to Gustaf’s irresistible alchemy. That we emerged into Hockley afterward and not Lower Manhattan was one more surprise, so complete was the transportive atmosphere.  

@gustaf_nyc

Gustaf performed at The Bodega on 27th August 2024.