Amyl and The Sniffers + Floodlights + The Menstrual Cramps at Victoria Warehouse, Manchester: live review and photo galleries

Victoria Warehouse shook to its foundations as three incredible bands brought the riot, the riffs, and the righteous chaos Manchester-style.

Amyl and The Sniffers immediately brought the party to the stage, swaggering on to the house anthem ‘Gypsy Woman’ by Crystal Waters, as if daring Manchester not to dance. Spoiler: we did. The mosh pit exploded within seconds of the first riff of ‘Balaclava Lover Boogie’.

Frontwoman Amy Taylor remains punk’s most magnetic chaos gremlin — sprinting, leaping, flexing her biceps, and commanding the room like she was born on that stage. The band powered through over twenty tracks with the intensity of a runaway train: ‘Got You’, ‘Security’, ‘U Should Not Be Doing That’ — all hit even harder live.

Between songs, Taylor dropped her trademark truth bombs — calling out Trump, showing love for the trans community, and taking aim at corrupt politicians. Her words hit just as hard as the music. It’s rare to see a band balance humour, heart, and total ferocity this perfectly, but Amyl and The Sniffers pulled it off — proving once again why they’re one of the most vital bands on the planet right now.

This outspoken attitude was carried through to the supports, as opener The Menstrual Cramps shout and sing about being fiercely feminist and calling out those in power, and main support Floodlights sent messages of hope for Palestine. Musically both bands were also striking.

Floodlights took things in a different but equally brilliant direction. The Australian post-punk quartet brought something expansive and cinematic to the night — think Television meets Shame, with a dash of harmonica-powered weirdness that somehow worked perfectly. Their sound was both abrasive and tender, blending jagged guitar work with moments of real vulnerability. One highlight saw Sarah Hellyer (keys/trumpet) and Ashlee Kehoe (harmonica/guitar) step to centre stage for a spoken-word exchange that held the crowd utterly still. Floodlights proved themselves to be more than just another export from the ever-fertile Aussie scene — they’re carving out their own thoughtful, dynamic space.

The Menstrual Cramps opened the night exactly as they meant to go on — loud, proud, and gloriously sweary. Bristol’s finest feminist punk troublemakers turned the cavernous venue into a moshpit of joy, fury, and community. With their distorted guitars, pounding bass, and shout-along gang vocals, The Cramps reminded everyone that punk’s not just alive — it’s wearing glitter and shouting about wanking. Lead singer Emilia had the crowd in the palm of her hand, teasing:

“Are you feeling sexy? I just saw someone shake their head… well sorry, it’s about to get sexier. This song’s about wanking.”

Absolute icons. The Menstrual Cramps remain the queer punks this country sorely needs.

By the end of the night, we were sweaty, euphoric, and reminded exactly why gigs like this matter: women and non-binary artists absolutely owning the stage, the sound, and the story. Wednesdays can be the new Fridays — if you do them LOUD enough.