Gone Future

@ The Social

Words & Pics by Captain Stavros

Gone Past, Gone Present, Gone Future

Gone Future’s 'Nightcap' came across our desk back in June, around the time we were enjoying a nightcap of our own. Nicki Dar’s voice has a tone that cannot be ignored, for good or ill, and it caught our attention immediately. There was no word of tour dates at the time, but we kept our peepers peeled. Perseverance paid off.

With the warm glow of summer long gone and autumn's golden tones settling in, a Swedish invasion swept through London this past week, eventually landing at The Social. Sandwiched between label-mates Stephanie Gilbert and Sibille Attar, the punk slime outfit Gone Future would do more than simply etch their name into the walls of this subterranean bunker. But they would have to fight for their place.

By contrast to the upbeat psych vibes of Stephanie and Sibille's Big Soft Heart, Gone Future's sound is premeditated gloom, throbbing doom and a seasonal must with Halloween around the corner. The set opens with 'The Middle', its yawning synths and prominent drums finally given room to breathe in the flesh. Released almost a year ago, it's a relief to see the track escape the confines of the record and come alive onstage.

'A New Hit' follows, a freshly rejected track that was apparently shopped around to Eagle-Eye Cherry before finding its way here. As Nicki tells us, ‘but he didn’t want it’. His loss, perhaps. There's an Infinite Sadness-era Smashing Pumpkins vibe pulling you in close, all dark surf-rock undertow and bruised melody. You know the flavour.

Dar's face accidentally meets the microphone in a too-close-for-comfort encounter, which she laughs off. ‘We’re so happy to be here, do I have lipstick all over my face?’ she asks, apparently to no one in particular, before announcing the band's forthcoming debut EP, Signs, due December 4.

Then the applause dies down, only for another clap to emerge from the speakers. We know this clap. This is a VERY familiar clap. It's Peaches' 'Fuck the Pain Away', and it's a great cover, to be sure. What we're less sure about is whether the audience deserves it.

This should be the point where the room descends into Sodom and Gomorrah. Instead, a bimbo at the booth across from us carries on her conversation as though the band were merely providing background music to her evening. Apparently, saving it for the interval is beyond the realms of possibility. She bellows like a goddamned foghorn between beats, trampling over a cover that deserves considerably more than to be treated as an inconvenient soundtrack to somebody else's social life.

The tracks bleed into one another like watercolour until the drums and bass hit back like an exploding border, tearing through the haze and sending the sound crashing towards us. This is mother's milk to us: the tail end of grunge steeped in a dark tea, bitter in taste and just as rich in sound. Gone Future might be looking backwards, but there's nothing tired about the view. Catch them when they swing back around. And when you do, remember that the band are there to be heard, not talked over. STFU until the last note dies.

Eel Men

The Social

Words & Pics by Captain Stavros

Sweat, Smog and Sharp Hooks: Eel Men Electrify The Social 

It’s the first properly sleeveless evening of the year — aided, in part, by the thick fug of central London hanging over Little Portland Street like a nicotine-stained duvet. Outside The Social, clusters of smokers and lager-sweating punters blur together in the heat, tongues wagging as loudly as the traffic. Before long, drinks are downed, cigarettes stubbed, and the crowd is funneled downstairs into the venue’s low-ceilinged concrete bunker to witness Eel Men launch their latest release.

We snag a booth right at the lip of the stage — where sticky wood meets chipped concrete — and clock a crescent-shaped chunk missing from the corner of the table. Less wear-and-tear, more bite mark. You wonder what kind of night caused that. Perched awkwardly sideways and narrowly avoiding the swinging headstock of Snub’s bassist every few minutes, it already feels less like a gig and more like surviving inside one.

On what was then the hottest day of the year, Eel Men emerge dressed like office workers caught in the wrong dimension: shirts, ties, jumpers, jackets — everyone wilting except the drummer, the only member with the common sense to wear a T-shirt. The music, though, is gloriously unbothered by climate or comfort. Gritty, stripped-back and claustrophobically textured, the band tear into ‘Bad Eggs’ from 2025 EP, Stop It! Do Something, with enough twitchy energy to knock the room sideways.

Then comes ‘Archetype’ — track three and already the point where the oxygen fully disappears. Ghostly psychedelic riffs slink down the fretboard like a stray pressed against a darkened alley wall while the crowd relentlessly surges forward. Bodies compress. Pints spill. Suddenly the venue’s single entrance/exit feels like deeply irresponsible architecture. Nobody cares. If the place catches fire from the smouldering tunes, so be it, at least the soundtrack will be phenomenal.

What’s remarkable is just how clean everything sounds despite the room feeling vacuum-sealed. Every bassline lands with a satisfying thud, every jagged guitar line cuts through the sweat haze. On ‘Motives’, frontman Jimmy Elliot delivers the line “would you kiss your mother with that mouth?” before smooching the hot mic with even hotter results.

Special guest Steph Anderson — multi-instrumentalist extraordinaire whose CV already reads like a mini-festival lineup (Yassassin, Findlay and countless others) — joins the band for ‘Glass Hammers’, adding shimmering synth textures via a tiny Korg perched stage-right. From there on, the set barely pauses for breath. Songs collapse seamlessly into one another with almost no between-track chatter; just relentless momentum and heads whipping from stage-left to stage-right trying not to miss a second.

New track ‘Autobahn Eyes’ lands like it’s already a fan favourite, signalling the final act of the set as the room descends into full-body heatstroke delirium. By now jackets and ties have been discarded onto the stage floor, the band visibly pushing themselves to the limit while never losing control of the set’s razor-wire precision. Steph Anderson, meanwhile, remains somehow immaculate throughout — silver trousers gleaming under the lights while delivering a standout performance on ‘Sore Eyes’, where even the tambourine parts demand your full attention. Not many people can make a tambourine feel like a headline instrument. She manages it effortlessly.

‘Pink Ones’ arrives with a bassline filthy enough to rattle fillings loose, while ‘Beschemel’ proves the night’s most unhinged moment: frantic, fast and impossible not to move to. An absolute slammer.

The set closes with a razor-tight double encore and the kind of applause that feels less polite than necessary. Looking around the room afterwards, there are familiar faces everywhere — Voices Radio’s Babe El Oued, Billy and Jackson formerly of Loose Tongues now dipping in and out of various projects, plus other musicians and scene regulars all exchanging the same knowing nods. The sort of crowd that tells you this band’s reputation has already spread long before the algorithms catch up.

Those in the know clearly already know.

Now you do too.

Eel Men are touring across Europe through the end of June following their album release. Miss them at your own peril.