Bristol’s genre-hopping day festival SIMPLE THINGS returned with a bang, threading punk, jazz, electronica and spoken word through the city’s most beloved venues. From the Beacon’s grandeur to the Sportsmans’ sticky floors, Simple Things was a celebration of sonic contrast and community spirit.
There’s something uniquely Bristol about starting your festival day in a pub that doesn’t feel like a venue. At the Sportsmans, the air was thick with anticipation — and Blue VKs. Local punk trio Mould kicked things off with a set that felt like a caffeine shot to the soul. Drummer James was still polishing off a drinks deal when the band launched into their ooze-heavy melodies, with vocalist Joe’s voice locking into a frantic, passionate rhythm that matched his guitar’s urgency. Bassist Kane twitched and bounced through “Frances,” a two-minute bounceathon introduced by the band’s collective “oooooooos!” It was their last Bristol show — for now — but the packed room made it clear they’ll be missed.
Outside, the iconic Thatcher’s hot air balloon drifted across a blue Bristol sky, but inside the Beacon, the day was about to take a turn for the surreal. Richard Dawson, the Newcastle-born progressive folk singer, took to the main hall with his unmistakable Geordie charm and a voice that boomed with theatrical power. Known for albums like Peasant and The Ruby Cord, Dawson’s songs are full of niche references and unpredictable twists. “I haven’t had much crack today, sorry!” he quipped, before launching into a set that veered between humour, aliens, and feedback. When a heckler asked about his guitar, Dawson simply replied, “It speaks for itself.” Class.
The mood shifted dramatically as Nala Sinephro stepped into the same space. The Belgian-Caribbean ambient jazz composer, now based in London, brought a sense of meditative calm with her pedal harp and modular synths. Under the soft orange glow of the spotlights, the audience closed their eyes and let the serenity wash over them. It was a moment of collective stillness — rare, and beautiful.
Then came the whiplash. DITZ, Brighton’s feral noise-rock quintet, exploded into the Beacon like a fire alarm. Their distortion-heavy set turned the room into a whirlwind of limbs and circle pits. During “Taxi Driver,” a wolf-masked figure carried vocalist Cal Francis into the crowd, planting him at the barrier like punk royalty. Charismatic, casually disinterested, and intensely engaging, Cal commanded the chaos with ease. Had DITZ just stolen the show at 7pm?
Not quite. As DJ Trewella spun a celebratory set marking 10 years of Nyege Nyege, I did a full 360 of the Beacon and landed in front of Dry Cleaning. The South London post-punk quartet, led by Florence Shaw, delivered a set that felt like an inner monologue set to jam-band brilliance. Florence’s deadpan delivery and anxious presence added layers of wit and subtle brilliance to the performance — a cerebral comedown after the DITZ storm.
Downstairs, Mackenzie kept the basement club bouncing with a DJ set for those still hungry to dance. But the real emotional peak came in the foyer, where Joshua Idehen held court. The British-Nigerian spoken word artist, backed by Ludvig Parment’s beats, turned poetry into a communal act of joy. “Cultivate a bubble of kindness,” he urged, challenging us to greet strangers and unite against the toxic tides of capitalism and extremism. With hugs, handshakes, and a beaming smile, Joshua stole the day back from DITZ — a standout performance that felt like a manifesto.
The night ended where it began: back at the Sportsmans, now buzzing with booze and anticipation. Local band Y took the stage with a ferocious blend of bass, drums and saxophone — no vocals needed. Their wordless, high-energy set turned the pub into a joyous mess, spinning the crowd into a frenzy. Who needs lyrics when you’ve got sax?
Simple Things 2025 was a lesson in contrast — a day where harp-led bliss and punk chaos coexisted, and where kindness, community, and sonic exploration ruled the city.
Words and Pics by Matt Barnes
