The Wildhearts + Meryl Streek @ Concorde 2, Brighton – 10th December 2025

In the rock firmament, The Wildhearts have, over the years, become something of a beloved institution. Likewise, Ginger Wildheart has become a national treasure—although he would probably deny it himself. It is surprising, therefore, to discover that only 250 advance tickets have been sold for tonight’s show. I was expecting it to be a sell-out. Still, by the time The Wildhearts take to the stage, the place is certainly comfortably full, so there has clearly been a significant walk-up crowd.

Before Ginger & co. entertain us, however, we are to be warmed up by Meryl Streek. I must confess that I am not overjoyed by this prospect. The reason being that I witnessed his performance at last year’s 2000 Trees Festival. That set began with a taped introduction detailing the wrongs heaped upon the population by the Roman Catholic Church in Ireland, followed by a performance that largely consisted of an angry Irish guy yelling unintelligibly over a backing track. I had heard a lot of good things about Meryl Streek, so I was disappointed—so much so that I had resolved to avoid a repeat of the live experience. However, it’s difficult to review an act from the bar opposite the venue, so here I am.

Things are a bit different this time. There’s a live drummer, but no guitarist or bassist. Perhaps Meryl is saving up so he can collect the whole ‘rock band’ set. Still, the lack of traditional instrumentation hasn’t done Bob Vylan any harm. Again, there’s a taped intro—this time about the number of children living in poverty in Ireland. It’s a problem on both sides of the Irish Sea, Meryl. My hopes are momentarily raised, but almost immediately dashed once the vocals start: once again, they’re largely unintelligible. Maybe that’s intentional, but I’d be surprised if so. Meryl is wearing a Steve Ignorant T-shirt, so he earns a gold star for sartorial elegance. The sound engineer also deserves one, because around three songs in, the vocals finally become audible.

This is a very good thing indeed, because the lyrics are thoughtful and intelligent. One song, about “an alcoholic who drank himself to death,” is particularly poignant for me, as my late father used to describe drinking as “the Irishman’s disease.” To a degree, he probably had a point. Meryl jumps into the audience to meet his people, although some of the crowd seem a little nonplussed by this. We then get a song about one of Meryl’s uncles who chose not to work and instead spent his time reading—a great concept (I wouldn’t mind doing that myself), though the song itself feels a little lyrically thin. Meryl tells us that Ireland is in the grip of a housing crisis, while 170,000 buildings sit derelict. This precedes a song about landlords and how they prey on the population. They’re possibly not all bad, Meryl. He finishes by declaring, “I want to own a gaff by the sea.” That’s fine—just make sure it’s not prone to flooding. Tonight has been an eye-opener and has genuinely made me want to hear more of Meryl Streek’s work.

However, most of us aren’t here to be yelled at—intelligibly or otherwise—by an angry Irish guy. We’re here to see The Wildhearts. And here they are.

After decades of peaks, troughs, break-ups and reunions, The Wildhearts returned in 2024 with a reimagined line-up that neatly fused the familiar with the new. Long-time collaborator Jon Poole rejoined on bass alongside fresh recruits Ben Marsden on guitar and Charles Evans on drums, forming a revitalised quartet poised to push the band into an exciting new era.

That renewed energy is captured on The Satanic Rites Of The Wildhearts, their eleventh studio album released in March 2025. Produced with punch and precision, the record finds Ginger Wildheart at his most dynamic in years, blending blistering riffs, emotive lyricism and audacious songwriting into something that feels both unmistakably Wildhearts and forward-looking. It’s been widely hailed by fans and critics alike as a triumphant return, brimming with anthemic hooks and cathartic intensity.

In 2025, The Wildhearts remain not merely survivors of rock’s shifting tides, but its undimmed heart—a band still evolving without ever losing the chaotic thrill that made them icons in the first place.

With minimal faffing about, the band kick off with Failure Is The Mother Of Success from The Satanic Rites Of The Wildhearts. The title alone offers sound advice: success rarely comes without failure along the way. Second song in and we get a crowd-pleaser—Nothing Ever Changes But The Shoes from the 1992 EP Don’t Be Happy… Just Worry. Some might argue that title is also good advice; I wouldn’t go quite that far. There’s a cool dual-lead guitar intro with a faint hint of Status Quo, before guitarist Ben Marsden peels off a storming solo as if they’re ten a penny.

Sleepaway features unexpectedly sweet harmonies, while Vernix, a deep cut from Chutzpah!, puts the keyboard player on lead vocals. Surely if she’s singing lead, we should be told who she is? There’s even an a cappella section—well, apart from the drums.

Nobody can accuse The Wildhearts of being slaves to the setlist. We get Geordie In Wonderland simply because Ginger enjoys playing it—bless him. He tells us that, Maintain Radio Silence from the new album is about “people who play the victim,” something arguably encouraged in certain quarters these days. Charles Evans’ drumming deserves special mention, with a definite Keith Moon (ask yer grandad) influence powering the whole show.

Unexpectedly, we’re treated to the Cheers theme tune, released as the B-side to Top Of The World. DJ Chris Moyles once vowed to play it until it entered the charts. Sadly, it never did—but full marks for trying.

Ginger is clearly pushing through a medical complaint and has already warned us that if there’s a problem, he’ll disappear briefly for painkillers before returning. One has to salute him. Thankfully, it’s largely ‘so far, so good’. Spider Beach, a new song, is dedicated to Charlie Harper from UK Subs, who is apparently “in the room.” In reality, he’s watching from the bar on a screen—but getting right into it. The track opens with a synth intro and doesn’t sound like a typical Wildhearts song—if such a thing exists.

A medley of Wildhearts guitar riffs follows, prompting the thought: “I didn’t realise they had so many.” Ginger is in his element, firing off a blistering solo before duelling with Ben Marsden. ‘Tour de force’ barely covers it. During Chutzpah! Ginger briefly ducks off for painkillers while Ben Marshall throws in an ace, near-shredding solo. With no time to leave the stage, the band pile straight into My Baby Is A Headfuck for the encore—another setlist absentee. Ben and Ginger both deliver cracking solos.

Tonight has been a stunning exhibition of hard-rock excellence. Gigs like this really don’t happen often enough. To quote the late, great Philip Lynott: “Until the next time.”

Words: Mark Kelly Photos: Robert Sutton