Puressence | Porcelain
Islington Assembly Hall, London
Saturday 25 April 2026
Thirty years since their debut, Mancunian cult heroes Puressence’s swelling, anthemic pop remains affecting as ever. Steve Morgan rolls back the years.
Perhaps the biggest irony for one of the finest near-miss bands of their generation is that Puressence took so much inspiration from The Chameleons that they almost mirrored their fate. Both emerged from unfashionable north Manchester streets, their career trajectories mapping a similar terrain – always on the cusp of the big breakthrough, backed by an adoring fanbase. If you knew, you knew. And the music? Guitar-driven, swelling euphoric anthems, forged in hope but – critically – played without the cynicism or contrivance that can often render much of this ‘everyman’ stance hollow and manufactured. These were authentic indie blues: music made by and for people routinely used to being kicked in the teeth, chewed up and spat out, but always sticking it to The Man.
It’s no coincidence Puressence handpicked Mark Burgess and his cohorts as support for July’s homecoming show, the biggest UK date of a career spanning 30 years since the release of 1996’s self-titled debut. The return to action on home turf in 2024, with a jubilant show at Manchester’s Albert Hall, suggested unfinished business. While there has been no new material since 2011’s fifth studio offering, Solid State Recital, the two-year wait to experience the band’s next live chapter looks like dynamism in comparison.
Believers in delayed gratification are in their element tonight: the joy and warmth in the air at Islington Assembly Hall is electric, knowledge of the band’s back catalogue granular. The crowd, who have fought their way gamely through the sun-kissed, tea-time throng of Arsenal replica shirts, are enthusiastic and hugely expectant. And, frankly, what does ‘near miss’ mean, or matter when your audience is this loyal? Not talking about Arsenal’s title bid here.
And they’re here early. Support act Porcelain, who deliver a note-perfect set of crystalline power pop, comment on how great it is to have such a decent showing for a support slot – “we’ve never played to more than 120 people” notes singer Curtis Longstaff. He might have to get used to it. If Jeff Buckley, Radiohead and early Coldplay are obvious points of reference – I’m sure I even heard a line about parachutes – it’s something else to sound this good early on in the journey.
Fittingly, Puressence open with Near Distance, the lead-off track on that first album, an instruction manual for their sonic approach. Over guitarist Lowell Killen’s eerie siren call, the shimmering haze resolves itself into a full-on, gut-punching barrage. But that heavy load is always leavened by the band’s USP: that voice. James Mudriczki’s falsetto – and his sweeping and soaring range – is a sound so other, Inspiral Carpets’ Clint Boon, who shared rehearsal space with the band in their early days, was shocked to discover the singer was male. It’s still an extraordinary ‘who is this?’ sound.
Besides The Chameleons and shades of Stone Roses – there’s a huge cheer for the appearance of the late Mani in the back-projected video for Walking Dead – there’s a strong pop sensibility at work, which makes the band’s elusiveness for the average Joe more baffling yet. Across the next hour and 20 minutes, the zingers keep coming, steepling choruses, intriguing lyrical snatches – “let’s talk about the way you cut yourself, and it was just tomato sauce” – adding heft to that expansive sound.
There’s a Sixties, saccharin-tinged feel in parts, at times redolent of fellow Mancunians The Hollies, particularly on the happy-sad bounce of She’s Gotten Over You, which also calls to mind Pulp’s imperial phase. On a similar tack, It Doesn’t Matter Anymore has a melody so sweet, it could have come straight out of the Brill Building. From a slightly stuttering start, Don’t Forget to Remember morphs into an epic grand sweep of the embers of a failed relationship, where Mudriczki reaches for the top notes over Killen’s melancholy-tinged jangle. “And when we used to smile at the camera, none of those pictures were real – none of that shit was ever real” another bittersweet image.
By now crowd and band are in lockstep. Mudriczki – suffering with flu – turns his mike on the audience for a breather, prowling the stage, or standing on the monitor to take it all in, allowing the faithful to complete a verse or chorus. It could feel cliched in the wrong hands, it’s spine-tingling here – there’s a half-decent mosh going on, too. Either side of Mudriczki, Killen – with some sterling work on the standout Make Time – and bassist Kev Matthews cut intense figures, wedded to their work, with drummer Anthony Szuminski offering solid, effective backing. There’s a fascinating mash-up on the big screen behind, too: clips from Wim Wenders’ Wings of Desire, Apocalypse Now, Carrie and the Manga classic Attack On Titan lend extra gravitas.
A shade over an hour later, they’re done. After a delay lengthy enough to make you wonder if they’ll return, we get a stirring rendition of This Feeling, and a blinding, fiery finale with I Suppose, track two off that debut. It’s right that the first and last word should come from that initial rush, material that still makes for a potent listen – and it feels right to have them back. On the way out, I strike up a conversation with Sam, who has travelled down from Hertfordshire. A devout indie kid in the 1990s, she says she somehow missed Puressence entirely. Introduced to them six months ago, she excitedly explains how she’s lapped up everything she can find since. There’s an honest sound, one that people invest in. Everyone deserves a second chance, but few deserve it more. Noses forever against the glass looking in, beavering away outside the inner circle: no-frills, no art-school bullshit. No pretence, putting the pure into essence. Welcome back.
~
Puressence play Manchester Academy on 2 May and Castlefield Bowl on 2 July.
Puressence can be found on Here and on Facebook
All words by Steve Morgan. Steve is on Bskysocial and Instagram
Photos by Robyn Skinner. You can find more of her work on Instagram
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