It’s not often you see a queue snaking down Great Western Road long before doors at Òran Mór have even creaked open, but that was the scene on this unseasonably mild Glasgow evening. Black-clad figures gathered in clusters beneath the sandstone façade, the anticipation tangible, the mood already celebratory.
This was a sold-out show, and the faithful had turned up early. There were more goths than you could shake a stick at—velvet, leather, mesh, silver chains glinting in the bright lights of the West End and the pre-show atmosphere felt less like a gig and more like a congregation. The weather held, the vibe was electric.
Game on.
Inside the basement venue, the early queue stalwarts simply reassembled—this time for the merchandise table. The soundtrack? Depeche Mode’s “See You,” followed swiftly by “Leave in Silence.” For this particular old New Romantic, it was already a triumph. One couldn’t help but regret leaving the eyeliner and frilled shirt at home.
First up were A Thousand Mad Things, a last-minute replacement after visa issues scuppered the original support. For many in attendance, this was an introduction, but a quick glance at the darker corners of the internet suggests the duo are steadily building a name within the UK’s darkwave and synthpop underground.
Stripped back to a two-piece configuration—synths, laptop, and a single, steadfast microphone stand—they dealt in throbbing basslines and glacial chord progressions. The sound was stark and unadorned, all pulsing low-end and icy atmospherics. The vocalist, leaning heavily into the mic as if it were both anchor and confessional, channelled a convincingly tortured presence. It wasn’t revolutionary, but it was effective: brooding, minimalist, and perfectly suited to the evening’s aesthetic.
A solid, if understated, opener.
By the time Twin Tribes emerged, the room was primed. The stage was plunged into near-total darkness, illuminated only by dim washes of purple and blue. The Texan duo have no need for bombast; they trade in mood, silhouette, and a near-monastic dedication to goth’s core tenets.
From the first note, Òran Mór’s basement became a cathedral of reverb and drum-machine pulse.
The set moved with a steady, hypnotic momentum. It’s true that many of the songs share a similar tempo and structure—driving basslines, chiming guitar figures, cavernous vocals—but that uniformity is part of the appeal. Twin Tribes aren’t here to surprise; they’re here to immerse. And immerse they did.
Luis Navarro, on vocals and guitar, cut a quintessential gothic frontman figure, moving languidly between mic stand and synth station, his delivery cool and commanding. Beside him, Joel Niño Jr. was a study in contrast: kinetic, locked into his basslines with relentless focus, the rhythmic engine powering the night forward.
The Glasgow crowd—devoted, knowledgeable, dressed for the occasion—responded in kind. Arms aloft, heads swaying, voices joining in refrains, they transformed the venue into a throbbing mass of shared intent. For a few hours, beneath those purple and blue lights, Òran Mór wasn’t just a church-turned-venue; it was the gothic centre of Glasgow. And judging by the grins behind the black lipstick, it was exactly where everyone wanted to be
Review & Photographs by John Brown Photography
