TTSSFU

The Moth Club

 Words & Pics by Captain Stavros

It was the night of The Great Escape (Festival’s First 50) but over at Musos’, we were planning to break in. After an exchange of tenuous communiques between promo and label teams, it was still quite uncertain if we’d find our way into the gig; you never wanna be without a chair when the music stops. As we queued up, we noticed The Moth was absolutely heaving and quite a few humanoids were still sluggishly shuffling forward like a dessert into an already bursting gut. By this point, many had adopted a rather cavalier attitude when announcing they were on the list. Most, if not all, were turned away which did not bode well for yours truly. When it was finally our turn, announcing ourselves before the gatekeeper as NAME REDACTED, predictably our fate followed the trend; ‘not on the list’. As a last-ditch effort, and ashamedly in the meekest of voices, we uttered, ‘try under Captain Stavros?’ Still not on the list, but this moniker caught the attention of one statuesque blonde parked a few feet away, en route to snagging a margarita pizza across the street. ‘He’s with us’. Enter one Xenia ‘The G’ Owens of Partisan Records, formally of Brace Yourself Press and friend of the blog. Her supernatural hearing, and timing, whilst interjecting herself into a supremely chaotic situation, is the stuff of legends That Totally Saved Shit From Undoing. After a few pleasantries (mainly groveling), we negotiated our way cautiously through a packed house to the front of the stage to behold Manchester’s proud daughter and sons, TTSSFU.

The set opens up with ‘Strange and Careless’, a possible euphemism to describe the spectacle before us and their performance largely as a whole. Not a criticism, friends. It takes a lot to blend into the Moth’s crinkled tinsel strewn backdrop with giant sparkle encrusted lettering, but Tasmin’s heart-shaped candy apple red sparkling guitar does a fantastic job of doing so. The trio of energetic bandmates, plucking bass strings, hammering percussion and squelching high frets, with Murphy shoving his guitar into the amp conjuring ghoulish feedback, is juxtapositioned with languid strumming and warm vocals that seem to shrug off the surrounding distractions with a natural nonchalance. This really stuck with us throughout the gig.

Arguably, Britain’s music scene is one of the most saturated in the world with pure untapped talent, and one of the hardest to break into. To wiggle your way up, even if extremely talented, is no small feat. Getting representation and signed to a label (the likes of which PJ Harvey, Idles and Cigarettes After Sex grace) makes it almost forgivable if the band in question might have a slightly inflated ego after traversing this musical gauntlet. One normally has to wade through performances patiently as an insufferable cavalcade of speeches and antics clomp by, all just so you can hear your favourite tracks performed live. Not so with TTSSFU, they used their newfound platform to embrace and infect the audience with an unfiltered, ego-deficient performance. And perform they did, in weird and wonderful ways. Fuzzy, wobbly sounds in drop-D tuning and static fuzz remind us of cassettes recorded over far too many times with the same flair of watching Johnny Cash’s psychobilly Cadillac roll on by. With endearing and peculiar charm, Tasmin makes known, “this next one’s a classic” as they ease into ‘California’, released a few years back as a single.

‘I Hope You Die’ is the penultimate track, of an entertaining set, largely made up of yelling non-lexicals. Before us unfolds a confusing scene, a mystic conjunction of precariously placed drinks laying spilt over electrical components that stubbornly refuse to quit. This, coupled with what we thought was a stadium crowd sampled and laid over the track instead turns out to be an un-hinged audience losing their collective shit over this song that resonates with them so profoundly. The set rounds off with ‘Remember’, where Tasmin thoughtfully introduces Paddy Murphy (lead guitar), Matt Deakin (percussion) and Reuban Haycocks (Bass), each of whom shone in their own merit. The track, and set, both culminate in Tasmin asking the audience to, “Look after your friends”, before launching herself into the audience shrieking at the top of her lungs. An infamous ending to be sure. TTSSFU is finishing up touring with English Teacher and coming back strong in 2025 with a host of new music and tour dates. You might, at this juncture, be asking yourself, what’s the draw? I guess it is an intrinsic dichotomy boiled into a band of wild wallflowers meet subtle exhibitionism. Tasmin and company tick a lot like a Swiss watch but more diabolical, if you know what we mean.

Nuha Ruby Ra

@ The Moth Club

Words & Pics by Captain Stavros

The horseshoe-shaped booth at the foot of the stage at the Moth, our go-to clubhouse for one, is occupied by a group of human fossils this time around. These lot have been around long enough to know a good spot when they see it, and luckily for us, they are as friendly as they are savvy, letting us rest our weary bones for we’ll need all our strength during Nuha Ruby Ra’s set tonight. We first spot Nuha on the frontlines in the audience beckoning the crowd forward during the support acts (End of Europe/Miss Tiny), closing the gap and blurring the boundaries between performers and spectators. The theme on stage this evening is gothic birthday party (curly ribbons and black/red balloon bouquets) celebrating Ruby’s day and tour.

Sets run late but eventually the Ra and what looks like a gang of extras from the set of The Warriors start setting up their kit. An oblong copper ring suspended on a stand above a box with a cowbell inside of it looks like The Eye of Sauron; grabbing our attention, and holding it. Imagine a love child between a theremin, a belt buckle and a birdhouse. An LED flood strobes and bathes the entire stage in lightning blue whilst a mesh-clad, beret-wearing saxophonist empties their spit valve as they float through scales, is this a band warm up or an ‘80s softcore sex scene? Answers are no clearer when Nuha comes out during sound check clutching a bugle and rocking Morpheus’ sunglasses. It appears the band is having issues sound-checking her twin mics. Naturally, only she can decipher how to turn on her mics and her audience alike.

Where have this lot come from? Not much info there pre-2023, seemingly they’ve materialized out of thin air. Going into a gig space blank is our forte, mostly, we want to remain impartial. Making all the connections and digging in deeper is strictly a post-show MO for us. Watching Ruby on stage with her six bandmates reminded us of the time we caught up with Black Country, New Road (RIP kinda) about 5 years ago, only to find during our deep dive that none other than Andy Savours in fact produced their new single ‘Fetish 2 Forget’. Both were/are sleepers but quickly gained traction and notoriety. If living bare chested legend Iggy Pop (BBC 6) and Goat Girl are longtime fans we’re certainly here for it.

Having played a plethora of prestigious festivals both on home turf and abroad including Glastonbury,SXSW, The Great Escape, Green Man, Wide Awake, Manchester Psych Fest, Levitation (FR), Grauzone (NL) and several more, as well as having previously supported Self Esteem, Yard Act, Warmduscher, King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard and Viagra Boys. Following a string of mini releases, two EPs and a few singles, both momentum and pressure are building in equal measures for this much hyped artist.

Back on stage, the set opens with noise track, ‘Cure For Tired Business Men’, followed by ‘Sparky’ where the sax goes to work. “Experiment, experiment with each other” allocates Nuha into dual mics; the experiment from where we’re sitting is certainly producing favourable results of which honky-tonk samples and hushed and luscious saxy tones top the list. Outside of ourselves (strictly business kids) no one is on their phone, which is saying a lot. The audience is fully engaged in this lattice of aurality while the oblong copper ring is fondled with a couple of snare brushes by a mulleted maestro. We’re still not sure we can hear it but we’re certainly paying attention.

‘Rise’, is instantly recognizable. The music essentially sounds like the collapse of civilization; thrilling, entertaining and frightful all at the same time. The bass is completely discombobulating, accompanied by keys whose deep synth reverberations shake our teeth in our skull and concentration alike. Psych visuals, provided by Mate Koi, bleep, bloop, blip, and splash across the stage along with sound devices of unknown origins to mortal ears. The set confuses in as much as it captivates.

The performance was as exceptional as it was enigmatic. After each song, we got a tiny peak behind the inner workings that is Nuha’s mind, ‘2-7-4’ would be repeated, a numerical mantra, and that would be it. Were they thinking of a bus route they’d need to follow to return to parts unknown or a storage locker combination? The cipher would remain a mystery. “What does punk mean? It doesn't mean whatever you think it means.” Although these snippets come from a stream of consciousness seemingly untethered to reality. Ruby is fully present and reigns in control when necessary. Although the audience is off the hook throughout the performance, the same can’t be said for the band. Ra works both solo and with bandmates but her work is her own, so tread lightly. On more than one instance eye daggers were thrown or an abrupt gesture used to snuff out a rogue solo or transition from accompanying bandmates (so much for experimenting with each other).

Even though Nuha informed us that she’d had lost her voice at the beginning of the tour, the extra husky tones worked a treat, but their set was now drawing to a close. “How much longer have we got, 15 minutes?” The reply, from the audio-tech came, “1 more song”. Two were played ‘Run Run’ and ‘Hookah Chalice’ before the house lights came on forcing a conclusion. Seemingly, Ruby has fallen from the sky, but so does lightning. "Nuha Ruby Ra is set to begin her trailblazing quest of what may be her breakout year – dismiss her at your peril." - Clash