There’s something about driving up the M5 for a gig that already feels like a pilgrimage — the slow creep through roadworks, the promise of a night steeped in nostalgia, and the quiet hope that the band you loved in your twenties can still make you move. By the time we rolled into Bristol and tucked the car into Trenchard Street car park, the evening already felt charmed. A pre‑show feast at Beirut Mezze — dark, intimate, and serving food so lush it should come with a warning — set the tone for a night rooted in warmth, memory, and groove.
Inside Bristol Beacon, the demographic was unmistakable: this was a gathering of the musically seasoned. The majority of the audience were 50+, the generation who lived through the acid‑jazz explosion the first time around. And honestly, it suited the room. A seated show initially felt surprising, but as the night unfolded, it became clear that the setup offered the best of both worlds — space to dance, space to breathe, and space to soak in musicianship without distraction.
The auditorium buzzed with anticipation, even if the early trickle of arrivals made the support slot feel quieter than it deserved. But by the time the main event loomed, the room had filled to what felt like near‑capacity — roughly 2,000 bodies ready to relive the soundtrack of their youth.
If ever a band could teleport a room back three decades, it’s Galliano. Classic, funky, jazzy — their sound hasn’t aged so much as settled into itself, like a favourite jacket rediscovered at the back of the wardrobe.
They tore through material spanning their five‑album catalogue, from 1991 to 2024, with Jus’ Reach and Earth Boots landing especially well. But the moment that defined their set came during Prince of Peace, when the line “Pushing and a shoving and killing all the lovin’” became a full‑auditorium chant. Looking around, it genuinely felt like everyone was singing — a rare, collective throwback to festival fields and carefree summers.
The band’s playful habit of rating the crowd after each song (starting at a 3, climbing to a 9) kept the energy buoyant, and the solo‑introductions showcased a lineup of musicians who clearly still love what they do. Older? Sure. Wiser? Probably. Still funky? Absolutely.
By the end of their set, the room was warmed through — not just physically, but emotionally. For many of us, it was a reminder of who we were 30 years ago.
When The Brand New Heavies stepped out, the shift in atmosphere was instant. Bright, tight, and punchy, their sound filled the Beacon with the kind of confidence only a band with 35 years under their belt can muster.
The opener Ride in the Sky did exactly what it needed to do: got people on their feet and into the groove. Founding members Simon Bartholomew (Sy) and Andrew Levy remain the charismatic anchors of the group, and vocalist Angela Ricci, with the band since 2018, delivered a performance that was both powerful and effortless.
The lineup was rounded out by a killer two‑piece brass section, a razor‑sharp drummer (performing flawlessly despite being unwell earlier in the tour), a brilliant percussionist, a soulful backing vocalist, and a keyboard player who stitched the whole thing together. Each musician had their moment in the spotlight, with solos that stretched, breathed, and reassembled themselves back into the groove like elastic.
The Heavies didn’t just play their songs, they took time to explore them. Tracks bled into solos, detoured into playful improvisations, and snapped back into place with satisfying precision. It kept the set feeling alive, unpredictable, and genuinely fresh.
Dream on Dreamer and Spend Some Time were standout moments, sounding as huge and joyful as they did in the 90s. Angela’s crowd‑splitting sing‑along (floor vs balcony) was a highlight, and the audience rose to the challenge with gusto.
And then there was Sy’s comedic detour into The Star-Spangled Banner and the forbidden opening lines of Stairway to Heaven. A cheeky nod to Wayne’s World’s “No Stairway” rule, and a moment that had the room laughing out loud.
Andrew made a point mid‑set: “We’ve never used backing tapes — and we never will. It’s all raw emotion.” And he wasn’t wrong. The Heavies’ live sound is organic, muscular, and deeply human. In an era of click tracks and pre‑programmed everything, it felt refreshing.
The Beacon’s revamped acoustics continue to impress. The room is tall but never boomy, bright but never harsh. Every instrument landed cleanly, and the static lighting setup made the stage feel warm and intimate — and a dream for photographers.
Galliano had merch and were spotted meeting fans after the show, signing albums and posing for selfies. The Brand New Heavies, however, had nothing on offer — a surprising omission for a 35th‑anniversary tour. Judging by the crowd, they could have sold a mountain of T‑shirts. Did they meet fans after their set?, I can’t say as I had to race back to Devon for a few hours sleep ahead of a mammoth drive to the North East the very next day!
This was a night of joy, groove, and communal nostalgia. A room full of people dancing like nobody was watching, celebrating a band who still have the chops, the charm, and the chemistry to lift an entire auditorium.
If I were to sum up the show using just one sentence, it would be The Brand New Heavies proved they’re still masters of their craft, effortlessly getting Bristol on its feet and reminding everyone why their music endures…
Words and Pictures by Steve Muscutt
