Gut Reactions (post-gig memories and other trips): Yonaka, "Welcome To My House" Tour, SWG3 TV Studios, Glasgow. Monday 25th March, 2024

I am now officially an old man. This was the first time I felt the gig belonged to a different generation—the "Sertraline Generation", epitomised by piercings, tattoos, dyed hair, and sad eyes. Not that I felt unwelcome or unsafe - other adults were present accompanying their teenage daughters - but when the support act instructs the audience to open up a mosh pit, and they willingly comply, the space taking up almost the entire dancefloor, it's time to walk away. I felt like a fringe wallflower, watching as four males bounced about, knocking into one another like trainee wrestlers. I must have missed that dance class.

This mosh nonsense upset my usual routine, where I plant myself in my carefully selected spot for optimum viewing. With every reset, as people returned to the middle, new tall people or phone wankers landed in front of me. I was well out of my comfort zone.

The first support act was Mimi Barks. She erupted onto the stage in what, to me, looked like a gimp costume: all in black leather with a spiky hood and mask. She screamed, swore, kicked and headbanged like a teenager who needs therapy. Her music is the audible equivalent of a tantrum. Before she left the stage, she finished by telling us, "Fuck you." Not "Thank you", as a polite young woman would say.

I am not her demographic market.

The second act was Noisy, a wannabe Prodigy-style combo. They were quite good, the frontman establishing his credentials early on with some fine rapping. His constant instructions, like an irritating DJ, grated after a while - "Make some fucking noise", "That's what I'm talking about", "Put your hands in the air", oh, and "Fuck Monday" (middle finger raised in the air). He engaged his audience, though, even coming down into the crowd, getting everyone to crouch down mid-song so they could all jump in the air together. I resisted. My knees and back are too far gone for all that nonsense.

Or so I thought.

Yonaka shone tonight. Theresa Jarvis can actually sing (not just scream or rap). She has quite a presence on stage, and the crowd loved her. The males in the band are quite striking, too. The place totally rocked.

For one song, Theresa also came into the crowd, skipping around the mosh pit, and then gestured for everyone to crouch. This time, practically everyone complied, leaving me and about three others still standing. So I had to creak down, wondering if my back would let me back up again. Fortunately, the music was so loud that no one could hear the ooof sound I made as I rose.

I'd love to see Yonaka again in a larger venue where the moshpit didn't take up the bulk of the audience space. I'd also like to hear them play for longer. The gig finished just after 10 instead of the advertised 10.30, perhaps so their younger audience could catch public transport home again. It was a school night, after all. (However, most of the audience was older than that).

Ticket Price: £25 plus fees (£64 for the pair, plus souvenir ticket).

Setlist:

By the Time You’re Reading This (link to YouTube video)

Greedy

Punch Bag

Call Me a Saint

Creature

Don't Wait 'Til Tomorrow

Hands Off My Money

PANIC

Welcome to My House

I Want More