(Photo by Dave Sausins)
Sporting a black, rhinestone old school military jacket, eyes doused in kohl, and wearing thick black lipstick, frontman Thomas Hawtin appears something akin to a gothic Sgt Pepper. Considering their ingeniously off-kilter name and self-description as “apocalyptic art punks”, the hometown five-piece cut an arresting image before a musical note has even been struck. With a 2024 debut album titled Mondo Maleficum (apparently the latin for ‘black magic’) and a heady lyrical style encompassing everything from Terry Gilliam to Salvador Dali, every facet of the band appears to be in the business of making a statement.
Pleasingly, ESOP have the musical and live performance chops sufficient to traverse any potential pitfalls of vapid pretension or empty showiness. Opener ‘Utterly Rudderless’ – birthed into life with multiple rumbles of guitar echo and Hawtin’s primal yell of “Aaaaggghhh! – is a darkly rocking salvo of thumping drum and bass, and dual screeching guitars. Referencing the Egyptian god of the afterlife, ‘Osiris at the Large Hadron Collider’ has a Talking Heads-like staccato guitar rhythm and a chorus centred around swooping “Ooh ooh” backing vocals.
Full of maniacal, wide-eyed stares, jittering head movements and intensive posturing, Hawtin is a fascinating figure of barely controlled energy; his is a leftfield theatrical presence that has the air of a doomy, hyperactive crooner. Referring to his jacket, he declares “Everything goes better with rhinestones” before introducing ‘Speak Medieval’. It’s a track that highlights another of the band’s main strengths, that of the chemistry between guitarists Tom Hackwell and Sean Jones; instead of relying on chords, they propel the song with a fine interplay of chunky riffs and twisting lead lines.
In celebration of their first Bristol gig since last autumn, Hawtin leads a brief chant of “ESOPs coming home” (to the tune of ‘Three Lions’, obviously) before addressing last Wednesday’s supreme court gender ruling. “We’re not known as a political band,” he says, before extolling the common sense virtues of love and compassion. “We just want to give a shout out to the trans community in these difficult times.” Hawtin then leaves the floor open for bass player Louise Schwarz to say something, and one can almost hear the mention of the trans issue’s bête noire before it arrives: “Fuck JK Rowling!”
(Photo by Dave Sausins)
Later, Hawtin announces a Kickstarter campaign to fund their upcoming new album, and then jokingly channels Bob Geldof in admonishing the audience to “give us your fuckin’ money.” This serves as the introduction to new track ‘Bring Me Back to the Black Beyond’, during which Hawtin observes that “a conga line of death” has been started up by audience members close to the stage.
‘The Wheel, the Spade, the Stars in Motion’ has a tinge of funk with stabbing guitar chords atop a bed of kinky lead riffs, and toward the song’s end Hawtin uses his two index fingers to simulate bull horns before playfully charging into Hackwell. Then there’s a mic drop of a quite inadvertent nature as Hawtin’s clanging into his mic stand has the microphone plummet stagewards and land with a thud.
The catchy, ska-flavoured ‘The Hand That Did The Deed’ contains the evening’s most straightforward singalong chorus. There’s a momentary hiatus in the music when Hawtin stops to offer a round of thanks to various venue and tour staff. The moment when, upon Hawtin’s last expression of gratitude, the band kick back in with perfect timing to deliver a final chorus, displays a nicely polished sense of stagecraft.
Forgoing the pointless, fait accompli tradition of returning to the stage for an encore, the band stay put and Hawtin gives promise of another two songs. ‘Nemesis Please’ is electro-tinged rock fuelled by a gargantuan, fuzzy guitar riff and Hackwell doubling up with a complementary synth figure. We delve into full audience interactivity mode as Hawtin leads a call and response of the song’s titular phrase.
Hawtin then sheds his shirt and goes bare-chested for ‘Truth Coming Out of Her Well.’ The transfiguration from a goth Sgt Pepper to an emo Iggy Pop is thus complete. In the spirit of the Three Lions chant from earlier in the evening, Erotic Secrets of Pompeii have indeed, on their return to Bristol, brought it home.
Scott Hammond