There’s something poetic about a comeback unfolding within the sweat-soaked, history-laden walls of King Tut’s Wah Wah Hut.
This evening VIDA didn’t just return—they reintroduced themselves with intent. Reformed, reinvigorated, and, as it turns out, very much ready to go.
The sold-out crowd told its own story before a note had even been played. This wasn’t casual curiosity; this was anticipation bordering on devotion. VIDA’s 2025 reunion clearly struck a chord, and with new material like ‘These Times’ under their belt—and industry ears reportedly tuned in, including Steve Craddock—there’s a sense that this is more than a nostalgia trip. It’s a second act with teeth.
Support came first from The High Flats, who wasted no time in delivering a barrage of straight-ahead rock. Their set was packed with punchy riffs and high-octane intent, though at times it felt like volume was doing the heavy lifting where nuance might have elevated things further. Still, the energy was undeniable, and they’re a band that could sharpen into something formidable with a touch more restraint. A brief aside: the pit was less a photographer’s haven and more a mild obstacle course, slightly disrupting the visual flow—but hardly derailing proceedings.
Next up …
Allsorts followed with a marked shift in tone. The six-piece brought swagger and shape, trading relentless assault for something more considered. Their set breathed, weaving through tempos and textures with confidence. The frontman—channeling shades of Ian Curtis, Ian Brown, and a dash of Liam Gallagher—was all charisma and controlled chaos, engaging the crowd at every turn. By now, the venue was heaving, a sea of terrace-casual fashion and 90s indie nostalgia, setting the perfect stage for what was to come.
Then came the main event.
VIDA’s arrival was met with a roar that felt earned, not manufactured. There’s always a risk with reunions—that they lean too heavily on past glories—but this felt immediate, alive.
The set may have been concise, but it was executed with precision and purpose. Their songs—simple, anthemic, occasionally introspective—landed exactly as intended, each one met with a crowd response that bordered on euphoric.
What stood out most was the connection. The band looked like they meant it, grinning through the noise, feeding off the room as much as they drove it.
And the audience? Fully invested. Every lyric shouted back, every beat danced into the floor, as if the hiatus had only sharpened their appetite.
Timing-wise, they may have just missed the bulk of this summer’s festival bookings, but on this evidence, promoters would be wise to take note. VIDA aren’t just back—they’re relevant, revitalised, and ready to reclaim space.
If this show at King Tut’s was a statement, it was a clear one: VIDA’s second chapter isn’t a footnote. It’s a fresh start, and a compelling one at that. Welcome back indeed.
Review & Photographs by John Brown Photography
