Brighton! You weird, wild wonderland. Team LOUD WOMEN hit The Great Escape 2025 with boots on the ground, eyeliner intact and notebooks primed. Cassie Fox and EB reviewed, Artemi Falzon and Sinéad Ferguson snapped – huge thanks to TGE for welcoming us into your basements, chapels and chaotic little corners. We came looking for the loudest, proudest, fiercest acts around – and found past LOUD WOMEN Fest stars smashing it alongside new names we’ll definitely be chasing down for future shows. Here’s our pick of the best: bold, brilliant, genre-smashing artists who had us grinning, sweating and very much believing in the power of DIY.
ChitChat
ChitChat kicked off Wednesday’s Patterns Upstairs showcase with a bang – a five-piece BIMM band led by powerhouse vocalist Rosie Crowhurst. Their set was a tight, confident run of melodic rock bangers with punchy dynamics and hooky choruses for days. From the brooding opener ‘Under My Skin’ to the soaring crowd-pleaser ‘Easy’, their blend of emotion and energy hit just right. Highlights included the slinky stomp of ‘Dirty Rumour’ and the feral closer ‘Hand It Over’ – full of wild drums and righteous rage. ChitChat are slick, loud and brimming with potential. Absolutely ones to keep an eye on. // by Cassie Fox
Lawn Chair
Lawn Chair tore up the Charles Street Tap with a gloriously chaotic set of synth-spiked punk that felt like DEVO, The B-52s and Dead Kennedys had all crash-landed in the same rehearsal room. Fronted by the magnetic Claudia Schlutius – part ragdoll, part rockstar – the band blitzed through bratty, off-kilter bangers that were as tight as they were unpredictable. Claudia climbed drums, railings and even audience members, all without missing a beat. Lawn Chair are the kind of band you stumble across and instantly know you’ll be telling everyone about later. Bring on the album – and bring them back to London, stat. // by Cassie Fox
The New Eves
The New Eves brought their eerie, earthy magic to Patterns Upstairs and cast a spell over the room. All violin, cello, and wild-woman energy, this Brighton quartet conjure a sound that’s part protest, part pagan ritual – less woodland whimsy, more righteous rage in harmony. Their swirling, cello-heavy feminist folk felt both ancient and urgent, with one member switching from drums to flute mid-song like it was nothing. Think PJ Harvey meets a coven choir. LOUD WOMEN love a band that makes their own rules – and The New Eves are absolutely doing that, one spellbinding, spine-tingling anthem at a time. // by Cassie Fox
Coach Party
Charles Street Tap was bursting at the seams for Coach Party – arguably the Isle of Wight’s most exciting recent musical export. With stages already shared with Royal Blood, Queens of the Stone Age, and Wet Leg, their arena-ready sound didn’t disappoint. Synth-tinted emo guitars clashed beautifully with punk-pop vocals, tackling themes of self-doubt, relationships, and objectification (“I don’t wanna do this all my life / looking for a place where I’m treated right”). There was anger, but also hope, and the set culminated in the first mosh pit of the week for me. Their new album Caramel, due in September, promises to be a future pit-starter. // by EB
TTSSFU
TTSSFU lit up Charles Street Tap with a spellbinding set that fused dreamy alt-pop, shoegaze snarl and gothic swagger. Tasmin Stephens prowled the stage with electric presence, switching between whispered secrets and full-throttle howls. Each song balanced intimacy with theatrical chaos, and the final track soared into an ecstatic crescendo that left the room reeling. TTSSFU make music for dancing, crying and glorious emotional mayhem – light on the feet, heavy on the heart, and laced with a beautifully defiant streak. A true standout of the weekend, and an act who absolutely lived up to the hype. // by Cassie Fox
The Klittens
Having live-mixed their Oxford show earlier in the week, I was excited to watch Klittens without worrying about getting five, yes, five, vocals balanced. The Paganini Ballroom, all Wes Anderson grandeur, set a whimsical backdrop for the Amsterdam band’s vibrant art-rock. Their upbeat set had the crowd bouncing in unison, but beneath the charm lies something raw and radical. Midway through, bassist Marrit stepped forward to read This Is Why We Dance, a 2021 poem by Palestinian writer Mohammed El-Kurd. The emotional pivot challenged the room, juxtaposing the joy of live music with a reminder of global grief and injustice. A bold, beautiful moment in a standout set. (Favourite track: ‘Reading Material’). // by EB
Yasmin Coe
Yasmin Coe’s Brighton debut at Charles Street Tap was a revelation. Smart, sharp and emotionally fearless, she delivered indie-pop with brains, heart and teeth. Backed by a slick band, Yasmin’s set mixed shimmering melody with lyrical grit – standouts included the current single ‘Blink Twice’ and the stunning ‘Red Jasper’, a slow-burn anthem on women’s safety that built to a fierce crescendo. She writes with clarity and purpose, unafraid to name the world’s violence while still finding room for beauty and hope. An urgent and commanding voice on the rise – here’s hoping it’s not long before she’s back. // by Cassie Fox
SLAG
Upstairs at Alphabet, a venue that initially felt abandoned, with early arrivals herded into a room that felt like a makeshift holding pub, SLAG left me on a high. Their sound merges the off-kilter precision of math-rock guitars with emotionally potent vocals that wouldn’t feel out of place alongside Adrianne Lenker. ‘Heaven’ has been on repeat ever since. SLAG were an unexpected highlight: raw and brilliant. // by EB
Sunday (1994)
Downstairs at Komedia on Friday lunchtime, Sunday (1994) served up shimmering jangle-pop with a melancholic undercurrent, fronted by the soaring vocals of Paige Turner. Guitarist Lee Newell (yes, from Viva Brother) was visibly fuming about the sound – but from the crowd’s perspective, it didn’t matter. Even through what they called a “shoddy mix”, their crisp melodies, bittersweet lyrics and tight musicianship shone. There’s a definite echo of The Smiths in their DNA, but they’ve got something more fragile and open-hearted too. Imperfect conditions, maybe – but a set full of promise, polish and just the right amount of pout. // by Cassie Fox
HotWax
HotWax delivered a sermon of pure, blistering noise at Brighton’s Fabrica – a former church turned venue – and it felt gloriously sacrilegious. With stained glass casting pastel light across the pews, the Hastings trio transformed the sacred into the profane, unleashing fuzz-drenched riffs and bone-rattling basslines that ricocheted off the altar. Tallulah Sim-Savage stalked the stage like a woman possessed, her voice veering from hushed confessional to primal scream. Drummer Alfie Sayers and bassist Lola Sam summoned a rhythm section tight enough to shake the heavens. If this was a church service, consider us converted. Loud women be thy name. // by Cassie Fox
Skunk Anansie
Three decades on from their debut, Skunk Anansie still tear up stages with a ferocity that makes most younger bands look like they’re playing dress-up. At The Old Market, the legends delivered an electrifying masterclass in punk power and political defiance. Skin remains one of the most commanding frontwomen in rock – a livewire presence, equal parts preacher, panther and punk poet. Her vocals are still astonishing: brutal and tender by turns, rising from whisper to banshee howl.
The set was loaded with classics – ‘Little Baby Swastika’ felt especially urgent, a thunderous middle finger to fascism that had the crowd moshing with joyful rage. ‘Hedonism’ was, as ever, spine-tingling. But it was the new material that really intrigued: dark, brooding electronics and snarling riffs hint at a heavier, more experimental era for the band. ‘An Artist Is an Artist’ punched hardest – a reminder that Skunk Anansie have never been just a band, but a voice.
Packed wall to wall with devoted fans, the gig felt like a communion. And as Skin reminded us, they’re still here. Still loud. Still necessary. A breathtaking, bruising hour that proved punk isn’t dead – it just got sharper. // by Cassie Fox
