JesseAtGazette
MaddieAtGazette
AmberAtGazette
AaronAtGazette
CamAtGazette
CherylAtGazette
GloriaAtGazette
JasonAtGazette
JesicaAtGazette
JulianAtGazette
KaitAtGazette
KalAtGazette
NicoleAtGazette
NairaAtGazette
SophiaAtGazette
Performance 4/5
Openers 4/5
Crowd 5/5
Setlist 5/5
Worth the cash 5/5
At 9:30 p.m. on Saturday, the vintage, cobble-stoned bar hidden in the heart of downtown London came alive as people shuffled in from the cold.
With food, drinks and laughter abounding, every booths at APK Live was occupied and the dance floor was full. Fans waited patiently for that first strum of a guitar—the infamous sound that signals the beginning of a musical journey. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the room darkened—the only source of illumination left was the bright flashes of orange and pink stage lights. The crowd grew quiet and the show began.
The deep rumble of a powerful, time-keeping bass guitar reverberated throughout the room and announced the presence of the first act—Harlan Pepper, the eccentric Hamilton natives, who intricately combined the best of blues, country, folk and rock music while delivering a sound that would have been just as fitting in the ‘60s and ‘70s as it is today.
With lyrics that range from pensive to playful and the ability to give a flawless live performance, Harlan Pepper managed to find their niche in an unrelenting industry. Dan Edmond, who not only provided vocals but also dominated the keyboard and the harmonica, was a young Bob Dylan with an array of talent, and Jimmy Hayes’ George Harrison-like guitar solo captured every set of eyes and ears in the venue. These charming, young men set the bar high for the rest of the night with songs like “Friend of the Devil.”
The next two bands to hit the stage were the Sam Allen Band and Forest City Lovers. Both groups, with the help of melancholic violins and cellos, offered emotional melodies along with solemn and woeful librettos. Their overall slower tempos, however, were unable to seize the attention of the crowd. Though, undeniably talented musicians, their mellow vibes seemed out of place and did not suit the Saturday night bar atmosphere.
Hoots and shrieks pierced the air as main event, London’s own Whipping Wind, finally made their debut. Though a tad generic, fans roared and danced feverishly to the heavy drums and distorted guitars of the futuristic sounding pop-rock band. Even with a number of blatant mistakes and adamant apologies from the lead singer claiming that it was an “off night”, the crowd went on unfazed, singing along and demanding an encore.
Marking the end of a night filled with talent and wonder, one fan stated,“trying to pick a favorite band from tonight is liking asking a teacher to pick a favorite student, it’s just too hard.”