Despite the summer heat giving way to Manchester’s infamous drizzle on the evening of the show, all the ingredients are there at Castlefield Bowl for a successful night for The Lathums… a sea of bobbing bucket hats, a poncho-clad, passionate fanbase and two number one albums under the belt. Wigan’s finest not only hold their own against the abundance of headliner royalty present at Manchester’s Sounds of the City 2023, but they assert themselves as a worthy part of it, achieving something that can only be described as transcendent.
It’s fair to say that The Lathums are a humbler, smaller act compared to some of the more established names present at Manchester’s 2023 Sounds of the City. Headlining this year’s string of events at Castlefield Bowl are 90s misfit legends Pulp (returning to Manchester for the first time since 2001), Stockport’s ever-growing phenomena Blossoms, contemporary indie disco mainstays Two Door Cinema Club, and the Grammy-nominated pop machine that is Bastille… surely tough crowd for any budding band to feel at home in? But, motivated by last weekend’s stellar set under the Somerset sunshine at Glastonbury Festival, The Lathums stride onto the stage with palpable confidence in their musicianship, back catalogue and, most importantly, their boisterous fanbase.
Singer Alex Moore, bursting with the rosy-cheeked optimism of a mischievous schoolboy just let out of period two maths for break time, is one of the cheeriest frontmen I’ve ever had the pleasure of watching. There’s none of the increasingly common pretentious posturing seen with the post-punk revival – just shameless excitement. Moore springboards off of the band’s recent success at Worthy Farm, leading his collective straight into the cathartic strains of ‘Struggle’. He holds the microphone up to his mouth, preparing to sing the opening gambit of album number two, From Nothing to a Little Bit More. But, before he can utter the words into the rain-soaked Castlefield smog, the crowd have beaten him to it: “I sometimes think back to when I was young, to happier times, but now they have gone…”
In a sort of dumbfounded appreciation, Moore bows his head humbly to the crowd that has etched his words into their hearts, laughing in amazement. From this moment on, all the way up to the climatic ska scuffle of ‘I See Your Ghost’ (spawning an inebriated chaos that can only be compared to the absurdity of Madness’ student house-party cameo in an episode of The Young Ones), The Lathums cement themselves as a more-than-worthy headline act. It’s rare that you get to see the moment a band move up the industry ladder in front of your very eyes – this performance is one of those beautiful rarities.
However, The Lathums’ evening of hazy headline success would not be achievable without the obvious: good songs. After all, to reach the heights of mainstay headliners as an indie band, you need arcing melodies made to be sung back to you – the kind of festival-proof melodiousness that generations of Manchester giants have made their living off of. From Morrissey’s kitchen-sink salutations in 1985, to the hustling, bustling, bagginess of Ian Brown in 1989… from Liam Gallagher’s slack-jawed swagger in 1995 to Matty Healy’s polarising pop-meets-art-rock in 2023… they’re all somehow united by a kindred gift for melody. At Castlefield Bowl, The Lathums perform a dazzling showcase of melodic appeal, their setlist pulsing with soaring refrains. Owing to the likes of Gerry Cinnamon or Liam Fray, Moore’s vocals carry the whole show, seeming to come from not only the diaphragm, but from the gut.
Fan favourite ‘The Great Escape’ is Manchester melodiousness made manifest for a new generation: guitarist Scott Concepcion makes his bubblegum-blue Rickenbacker sing, jangling with the infectiousness and suaveness of a mid-80s Johnny Marr (just minus the dangling cigarette), whilst Moore’s guttural cries for peace on earth glide between the shards of rain. Taking on a wholly different mood, but similar in its melodic prowess, the acoustic ‘I’ll Never Forget The Time I Spent With You’ acts as the group’s equivalent to Blossoms’ ‘My Favourite Room‘. Stripped back to just an acoustic guitar, the potential of the group’s songwriting only becomes more apparent, with Moore becoming a one-man-band that even Paul Simon would nod with respect towards. Like any great Manchester act that has come before them, The Lathums craft melodies that their crowds can always sing along to… no matter their level of sobriety.
A band that can keep a crowd satisfied in torrential rain is a band that’s bound to be in business for a very, very long time in the UK. The Lathums have no choice but to fight on (pun very much intentional) through the unfortunate weather, with the hope that their audience won’t run for cover under Manchester’s many arches. The rain (which could derail any open-air gig) highlights the band’s strengths further. With rose-tinted, childlike songs such as ‘I Know P.1’ or ‘Lucky Bean’, the group miraculously combat the storm. Whilst somewhat sickeningly cheesy, these songs warm the core like a pint of ale. The optimistic soundscapes provide a sonic shelter from the sodden Northern chill – the crowd may very well wake up the next morning with, at best, soiled socks and, at worst, hypothermia, but when moving to the bass-heavy backbeat of ‘Sad Face Baby’, well…who cares about the rain anyway?
In ‘Rise And Fall’, Moore claims that he knows that he’ll prove his worth. The lyric, although confident, makes it seem like this achievement is a far-off destination. The Lathums’ performance at Castlefield Bowl argues otherwise.
