Print features editor Jaysim Hanspal reviews The Midnight Beast’s gig
When I drunkenly ordered my best friend tickets for The Midnight Beast before a pres one September night, I thought I had made a great choice. Spontaneity equals fun, right? She had casually mentioned that they were playing at the Lemmy and that she loved them when she was thirteen. The latter part is the bit I should’ve paid attention to. Bear in mind at this point, I had no idea what I was getting myself into – when I was thirteen Bob Dylan and Queen dominated my iPod, and I genuinely assumed that The Midnight Beast was one of those small boy bands that dominated the early 2000’s – you know, like McFly with the hair and upbeat shouty tunes.
Approximately three months later, I was in for the shock of my life. I hadn’t bothered listening to them beforehand but was kindly informed that one of their most popular songs was called “Lez Be Friends”, a song (I’m not kidding) about women who reject men and then by default must be lesbians. The song starts out, “If a girl won’t come round/(She must be a lesbian)/Or turns me down/She must be a lesbian)”. Arguably the song was written in 2010, before the #metoo movement, and frankly, before any real sense or reason, and so maybe the song may have been better received five or so years ago. In 2019 however, I was traumatised.
a bunch of very similar songs, with very similar lyrics, and I believe the exact same choreography
I hadn’t been to the Lemmy after 6 pm since second year, and in second year it was a mistake. The space was moderately filled by a mix of locals and teenagers born after the year 2000, all of whom were either covered in The Midnight Beast stash or like me, regret. The warm-up act was a chirpy but forgettable woman who sang covers of popular songs – so you know, TikTok. Once that ordeal was over, and more than three rum and cokes were consumed, I felt sufficiently inebriated for the main event. And how wrong I was.
They started off with their clearly popular and not at all divisive song “Lez Be Friends”. Cheers were heard throughout the audience as the crowd rejoiced in blaming others for their shortcomings, an hors d’oeuvre to last Friday’s election if you will. With synchronized dancing that would’ve put me and my secondary school best mate to shame, the three guys Stefan Abingdon, Dru Wakely and Ashley Horne (which they mention numerous times throughout their songs), thrust, slut-dropped, and dabbed with abandon. This was the first song, and regret flooded through me like food poisoning.
I even started to copy the routines of the backing dancers
What came next was a bunch of very similar songs, with very similar lyrics, and I believe the exact same choreography. Highlights such as “Daddy, which features the lyrics “Dad was running off with the cleaner/ She wasn’t even fit/You should have seen her/If she had big tits and no moustache at worse”, and “Just Another Boyband” in which one of the members actually “sings”; “The girls are underage but we don’t care/And when you throw your panties at a boyband/After the shows we keep your underwear.” Sadly the boys did not have the time to play music from their new, aptly named album “The Album Nobody Asked For.” (the full stop is meant to be there), and so we were at a loss and missed out on classic hits like “Send Nudes” and “Ur Daughter”.
At this point in the review, I would like to point out to my readers that I do have a sense of humour. I appreciate songs like “$ave Dat Money” by Lil Dicky, and “Hurt Feelings” by Flight of the Concords. I understand that these songs are deliberately offensive and exaggerated and that they aren’t necessarily meant to be high quality. But what those artists have that I feel like the Midnight Beast seems to lack is a certain je ne sais quoi…no I worked it out – it’s intelligence. As unfortunate as it seems, badly performed songs about misogyny and targeting underage girls wasn’t as appealing as it was clearly sold to be.
if I was thirteen again, and I forgot all about my moral and ethical beliefs, and I lost my sense of hearing, balance, dress-sense, and all my friends, this concert would have been amazing
By the end, I honestly do think I started to enjoy the concert. It may have been the five rum and cokes, or almost being knocked out by two middle-aged men who tried to start a mosh-pit, but I started moving along to the music. I even started to copy the routines of the backing dancers, I mean it wasn’t hard. Looking around, at everyone’s smiling faces, I realised, that maybe music doesn’t have to be good. I mean, why are good sounds appealing anyway? Why do we have to conform to a society that says well-written songs and rhythmic beats are à la mode? In my opinion, if I was thirteen again, and I forgot all about my moral and ethical beliefs, and I lost my sense of hearing, balance, dress-sense, and all my friends, this concert would have been amazing.
