The Molotovs at Brixton Academy
If playing The Electric Ballroom is every rocker’s dream, The Molotovs have taken it a step further. Their bragging rights now include not only performing at the venue – and a sold-out night at that – but doing so before the release of their debut album, Wasted on Youth, which is coming out in January. Considering the warm welcome they received, one can imagine how many have been eagerly waiting for this moment.
Frontman and guitarist Mathew Carts, bassist and vocalist Issey Carts, and drummer Noah Riley perform with a kind of instinctive unity that feels inherited from another era – the lineage of The Jam or The Libertines – but with grit of their own. Punk in spirit, without being constrained or exclusively defined by nostalgia. And they also make it clear they’re not afraid to use their platform to speak out, for instance, by dedicating Is There Any Hope to Nigel Farage and Reform UK. The kind of moment that reminds you of punk’s bite, fuelled by the anger and frustration felt by the youth, hasn’t gone anywhere.
They open with Urbia, followed by Newsflash, and within seconds, the pit turns into a mass of movement. Their sound is urgent and carries tension; chaos meeting control. One can sense their street-performer roots in the way they handle a crowd: no hesitation, and no fear in feeding off their audience’s energy. There’s an element of theatricality which feels deliberate but not artificial: Issey will occasionally lock eyes with the crowd as if looking into a mirror, flicking her hair mid-riff, pouting. The audience picks up on it, reciprocates, jumping up and down, and raising fists during set highlights like Johnny Don’t be Scared. The physical connection between band and audience is both rough and communal; alive.
When Wasting My Time starts, the room fills up with that sweaty, reckless nostalgia that defines proper punk gigs. The guitar work here is fantastic: sharp, defined, memorable. Wasted on Youth then perfectly sums up the rebellious mood of the night, reappropriating “waste” not as defeat but as defiance. Towards the end, new song My Metallic Wife hints at a slight shift: still punk at heart, but with a polish that might signal where they’re headed. Their cover of Rebel Rebel also lands, cheering the crowd. Bowie would have approved of this joyous sense of rebellion.
What stands out is how the trio still feel like they’re on the fringe of industry demands: their edges are still sharp, their attitude irreverent. They don’t play like a band chasing approval; they play like one that already knows who they are. The imperfections are part of the texture. If there’s a question mark, it’s: what if they leaned even harder into the irreverence?
Already, they look like they’re headed for something big. If this gig proved anything, it’s that The Molotovs aren’t wasting anyone’s time, least of all their own.
Benedetta Mancusi
Photos: Miguel de Melo
For further information and future events, visit The Molotovs’s website here.
Watch the video for More More More here:
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