Hot off the tail of an intimate acoustic set for “Three Nights of CALM” in Stirling and the release of his debut solo record, Bradley Simpson brings The Panic Years to Glasgow’s SWG3.
A decade-long stint as the frontman of a boyband is certainly one way to build up work experience, and as a solo artist, Bradley Simpson of The Vamps knows how to work a stage. His recent Glaswegian solo debut went so well that the hype took on physical manifestations this time around; forming a chain of glow-sticks, painted neon signs, and friendship bracelets that twisted round the industrial estate surrounding SWG3’s Warehouse long before doors opened. However, gazing through the pink-hued spotlights that brightly juxtaposed overcast skies above the mammoth queue outside, part of the hype felt placed upon tonight’s opener – Nieve Ella. Entering the stage bandana-clad, channelling her inner Joni Mitchell with a two-man acoustic/electric guitar set up, there was an intimate sense of country-inspired flare to her opening set that separated it from the norms of describing small-town relationships fostered in the backroads of Shopshire. Screams for unreleased single “Honey” testified to the pent-up anticipation being released and replaced by feather boas and more bodies with their heat rapidly beginning to fill the room. The crowd was young, peppered with older-folks from The Vamps days hoping for a cover or two, yet (in our case) were instead found questioning their humanity after being asked to dab.
For those blissfully unaware – dabbing was a trend from the ’10s (outdated even when it was new) finding an ironic resurgence in a certain teenage demographic. Faith restored from this brief hiccup by a genuinely satisfying interaction with the venue’s resident security guard Gordon, and an earworm in the form of “Sweet Nothings”, Ella’s set concluded – successful in justifying the traction she’s gained amongst the youngsters, teeing up the crowd for The Panic Years to come.
In ways, the customary moments lying in wait between sets felt like a movement, a recession of sentiment from hazy memories of the past decade to anecdotes from the 80’s as some of the inherently retro-coded synths that inspire Simpson’s solo debut faded in to signal his arrival – this time leading a three-piece band of his own. “Getting Clear” opened the show with a succinct version of what Simpson tries to get at, the notion of angst is timeless and somewhat inevitable. His mic may not have worked until part-way through the song, but experience from the Vamps quickly kicked in as he rode the hype-train whilst engaging with the crowd, shaking hands seen through shaken mobile phones. Before long, the brown leather jacket he wore was shrugged off to reveal a white vest-top and jeans on full show – a far cry from his comparatively subdued acoustic charity set in Stirling a mere week beforehand.
The similarly full-bodied “Picasso” followed this up, showcasing both Simpson’s exuberant charisma and deft lyricism in a concise package that plays into the recurring theme of inevitability, aligning it with tropes from The Vamps days as he grapples with the messy business of getting into a relationship despite knowing you’ll get hurt eventually. Much like the song’s lyrical content, the layered backing vocals upon a synth-adjacent piano track towards its end are infectious by design, and it’s easy to tell the perspective thus far comes from a man who has been through his version of The Panic Years. Starting with two of the album’s more polished tracks before delving into tunes with stripped-back elements, such as “Cry at the Moon” and “Not Us Anymore”, created the effect of peeling back the layers to Simpson’s psyche, beginning to follow him through to the other side as the backing band gradually ramp up their support. Such a slick end-product runs parallel to the acoustic show in Stirling the week prior, with Nieve Ella’s appearance during “Favourite Band” signifying a level up in production quality alongside obvious factors, such as the drums and guitars ever-looming whilst upon stools near the wings. There was a cool dichotomy as all eyes were on Simpson’s frontman persona in the middle, band both staring him down and playing behind him – only to be disrupted as they enter the crowd (brave move!) for a quick acoustic rendition of “The Band’s Not Breaking Up”. Perhaps this intended to add another degree of comfortable separation from the Vamps shaped elephant in the room, an elephant that nobody seemed to notice very often.
If anything, the sharp transitions and lack of reliance on old material during this journey through the debut record serve to obscure the fact that this would’ve been Simpson’s largest solo show at this point, to an almost sold-out cascade of Scottish chants reverberating back at him. Such noise was only to grow louder as the band began a surprise rendition of The Proclaimer’s “I Would Walk (500 Miles)” mixed with Paolo Nutini’s “Candy”, an unexpected medley that worked surprisingly well, creating somewhat of a sing-along carnival atmosphere. Rather quickly however, the rug was pulled from underneath everybody as Simpson segued directly into “Always Like This”. Arguably the most rock infused song of the night, it was as if Simpson’s inner Jack White was being embraced on stage, whilst spotlit by an array of dramatic side lights, bled deep red to emphasize some of The Panic Years’ rockier elements amidst its polished nature.
Approaching the set’s end, it was fitting that the titular track made an appearance, completing the bulk of a first foray into a solo venture creatively using facets of the imagination unexplorable when working within a wider project. Seen live, it’s clear to see both similarities and differences to The Vamps, how it feels like a sidestep as well as an evolution for their frontman, breaking free from the boyband label under the iron-clad roofing of SWG3. A brief encore ensued, ending on “Carpet Burn”. An ironic choice given the lack of friction during the set’s transitions, however next time perhaps that should be added to the list of inevitabilities for an act beginning to draw both an invested and growing following as people begin to catch on – perhaps emerging through the other side of The Panic Years was worthwhile after all.