I didn’t really know where to begin with this one. I’d never heard of Ren Gill until I worked with Dom Joly on a small project and later discovered he was collaborating with this Welsh-born whirlwind who busks around Brighton with a band called The Big Push. Hearing Dom rave about him sent me down a rabbit hole, and like everyone else who stumbles across Ren, I emerged absolutely floored.
‘Hi Ren’ was the first masterpiece I heard, followed by ‘She Sells Seashells’ and the devastating, beautifully crafted ‘Violet’s Tale’. A bit triggering to be honest, but all the same, stunning and clever. I’ve no idea how I’d missed him for so long being a full-blown YouTube phenomenon, so I’m blaming my algorithm for being asleep at the wheel. Either way, I’m grateful to have his work in my life now. And not just Ren, but Ren and the phenomenal musicians that make up The Big Push. I could easily turn this into a Ren only love letter, but that wouldn’t be fair. The Big Push are master musicians in their own right, and they deserve every ounce of praise.
So, O2 Victoria Warehouse. This raw, industrial cathedral of a venue, once used to store cotton and fabrics, was on Friday night weaving musical memories into the minds of three and a half thousand punters at a sold out show. I really do think they could have sold it out three times over, if not more. It was heaving. And I’ve never seen so many people wearing merch. Ren and The Big Push have a following unlike anything I’ve ever encountered. More on that later, but first, the support act.
The Gulls.
A couple of years ago, my algorithm was actually doing its job and Instagram led me to The Gulls. I instantly fell for their rough edged, funky, psychedelic, free spirited vibe. I gave them a ‘follow’ immediately and even messaged to ask if they had any plans to ‘come up north’. The reply was lovely, a ‘thank you’, but no tour on the horizon. Fast forward two years and here they are, sharing a stage with Ren and The Big Push. A perfect pairing and perfect timing.
Will Fairhead hit the stage with gusto, strutting on, chest bared, full of fire, bringing the heavy duty raw, high energy grit I’d seen on Insta reels. The guitars are snarly with riffs that feel like they’ve been scavenged from the roadside and wired together with a healthy shot of adrenaline. I could see why they were supporting The Big Push. Lots of similarities.
There’s a percussive swagger to their music too, a rhythmic insistence that gives a nod to funk without ever fully committing to it, giving their songs a restless, rolling momentum. They play this stuff with their bodies, not just their instruments. After their set, I was lucky enough to meet Kai, the smiley blonde haired firecracker who’s just joined the lineup on bass. “I’m writing a review about you guys,” I told him. “Awesome! I’ve only been in it two months,” he laughed, and you could see he was having the absolute time of his life. Fans were swarming him for selfies and little chats, and he handled every single one with this wide eyed, grateful joy. At one point I looked at him and thought, he’s never getting out of this crowd.
The Gulls are a presence you’d find on beaches, street corners, or occasionally hanging off the back of a moving vehicle. Sometimes, I think bands with this kind of feral, untamed energy don’t really belong inside a metal cage. Maybe that’s just how my alternative brain is wired, but I think some acts are meant to be experienced in their natural habitat. The Gulls and The Big Push feel like they should be tearing up an open air space like Castlefield Bowl, maybe? Or Cardiff Bay, somewhere with sky above them and room for their creative chaos to breathe. But I’m not their agent, and what do I know. Either way, they were magnificent at kindling the flames, preparing us for the wildfire that The Big Push would unleash moments later.
The Big Push
I think you could be forgiven if you thought these guys were just a bright n breezy covers band, you’d find doing their thing on the street whilst you’re doing your shopping. It took me a while to muster what they’re about. And what you’ve actually got is a band of brothers who are seriously well connected and gifted musicians forming an alliance to simply bring joy to anyone that wants to stop by and experience their vibe. And once you’ve been bitten, there’s no going back. Formed on the streets of Brighton in 2017, The Big Push quickly became one of the city’s most recognisable grassroots success stories. The four piece Welsh multi instrumentalist Ren Gill, French guitarist Romain Axisa, Brighton based vocalist and songwriter Gorran Kendall, and drummer Glenn Chambers all built their reputation on pavements and street corners. The old-school way. Their reworked covers and high energy busking sessions have drawn crowds large enough to halt traffic, and their chemistry translated seamlessly to viral online performances. Ren and his genre splicing skills, like a musical chameleon, blending rap, rock and reggae joined forces with Romain who gave them the fluid, bluesy guitar lines while Gorran added melodic structure and strong identifiable vocals and Glenn’s tight, responsive drumming grounded the band’s improvisational style.
What’s not to love already? The only thing left to wonder was how all this wild, sun soaked energy would translate inside the steel confines of a metal cage.
By the time the lights dipped following the aftermath of The Gulls, the atmosphere inside O2 Victoria Warehouse had shifted from casual excitement to super-charged. The Big Push may have started as Brighton buskers, but it was YouTube that turned them into a global phenomenon. Their street corner reinventions, filmed by passers-by on phones, uploaded without fanfare, travelling far beyond the lanes, pulling in millions of views and building a fanbase that stretched well past the South Coast. That digital momentum is what ultimately carried them here and I’m just another overjoyed casualty of that. From pavements and beach fronts to a 3,500 capacity industrial hall packed to the rafters with people who first discovered them through a screen. You have to admit it; social media has its good bits.
The crowd on Friday night was a cross section of the online community that had followed the band’s evolution in real time, from viral covers to Ren’s explosive solo rise. As silhouettes appeared at the edge of the stage, the room tightened with an enormous ripple of recognition moving through it like a clapping Tsunami. I don’t think this was just because of the arrival of a band. This was a physical representation of what ‘respect’ looks like in its thousands. Everyone knowing the bands history but also, the undeniable challenges of a man who has gone through the mill a million times, time and time over, for more than half his life. And that journey has led them here, ready for the next chapter to unfold with fans standing in front of them rather than transfixed to a screen.
This 16 song set list of joy and pure musical genius kicked off with Why My Woman with that unmistakable drum intro and bassline had everyone reaching for the steel rafters before the first verse even started. I’m listening to it again as I write this, reliving Friday night with a big smile on my face and goosebumps on my arms. Some band’s sound exactly like the album when you see them live (Stereophonics come to mind) and while that’s impressive, you sometimes crave something that catches you off guard. For me, music is a love affair, and live shows are the ‘encounters’. I don’t always want to know what’s coming next. With The Big Push, you never do. That wild, off the cuff unpredictability is their secret weapon. This felt like a gig made just for you, not for every man and his dog wandering past on the street. Something still feral, still loose, but elevated for the lucky souls who managed to snag a ticket.
The guitar solo in Watch Out was downright luscious, and I genuinely struggled to decide when to shoot because you never knew what was coming next. It was interesting to watch them swap instruments more times than partners at a swingers’ club, not because anything was going wrong, but because they can. The benefits of being ridiculously talented and able to play any instrument that comes your way.
The beautiful song that is ‘Dignity’ was played to slow things down a little and left me a bit on the tearful side. Followed by a number from another genius, I Shot the Sheriff. This was just sublime. It’s a song that gives musicians room to really show what they can do, and they completely took advantage of it. Ren delivered his finest reggae flavoured vocals, smooth and effortless, while the band wrapped around him with that loose, confident groove they’ve perfected. The whole warehouse was shoulder to shoulder, everyone singing at the top of their lungs. Then the shirts and vests started coming off, clearly not the evening for clothes. Playing half naked seems to come naturally to both bands, and a few members of the audience happily joined in by ditching their own layers. This was a hot gig in every sense, and no one cared one bit.
The unmistakeable intro of a Rolling Stone’s classic kicks in, and you know what it is straight away by the excitement levels of the audience, turned up to Max.
Sympathy for the Devil. No one is trying to take off the Stones, this is The Big Push, performing a song that sounds like their own, in their own style. I love Gorran’s voice. It has a tinge of worried psychedelic desperation, like he’s praying for your soul. Totally mesmerising. Then comes the Whoo – hoo’s, a chant 3.5 thousand strong filling the entire room. This huge Stone’s fan couldn’t remove the smile from her face.
Other covers that were given The Big Push makeover included Roadhouse Blues and an awesome mash up of the Black Keys Lonely Boy and Rolling Stones ‘Paint it Black’. The atmosphere was something else and you could tell, no one wanted it to end, me included. But all phenomenal things must come to an end. The band engaged with the audience with warmth and kindness, continually showing appreciation for everyone that had turned up to see this humble seaside busking band who totally floored everyone with their presence and talent in the sand bucket full. Ren gave a heartwarming speech to the audience, highlighting the importance of living gin the ‘now’, enjoying this moment together and just ‘being’. As he said “none of us really know why anyone of us are here anyway, so we? So, we might as well enjoy this together”. It summed up the evening perfectly. Ren, Glenn, Gorran and Romain, blew kisses to the audience and showed their love for the fans before walking off stage. It was like a date where you wanted to ask, ‘when can we see you again?’. They made their mark on a lot of people who probably wanted to know the answer to the same question. This tour was sold out. Glasgow, London, Manchester, Bristol and Brighton. And I’m not surprised why. They left the stage to deafening cheers from the audience.
But what happened next was something else.
Walking back to my car, I noticed a crowd quickly gathering around the back entrance gates. And, in true British fashion, I joined it without a single question asked. In front of me stood a young woman with an accent. “Where are you from?” I asked. “Minnesota,” she replied. Naturally, I assumed she was touring the UK. “Ahh cool, doing a bit of travelling, then?” She shook her head. “No, I’m just here for the band.”
Her name was Annalee. She said “when I turned 40, I promised myself I’d do something different. Now, most people’s idea of “different” varies, I get that but an eight hour flight from Minnesota to Manchester solely to see Ren and The Big Push… followed by another eight hour flight straight back home. No hotel. No real plan. Her flight was at 5am, and she intended to use the airport like a Premier inn until her next flight. What an incredible way to mark your 40th.
“My parents and friends think I’m crazy,” she said, laughing the laugh of someone who absolutely knows she is and absolutely doesn’t care. I asked if it was worth it. “Oh my god, totally,” she said, without a second’s hesitation.
Ren appeared with the band, throwing themselves into the crowd with genuine enthusiasm, taking selfies, signing merch, scribbling on anything handed their way, chatting like they had all the time in the world. It was warm, human, but utterly chaotic. The queue had long since stopped being a queue. It had morphed into one big, messy, heaving knot of people all pushing forward to claim their time with Ren and the band. A lady behind me muttered, “Bloody hell, it’s like the Beatles,” and I burst out laughing because to be honest, she wasn’t wrong. The lovely tour manager made a valiant attempt to restore order, calling out instructions, trying to form some kind of line so everyone could have their moment. But there was no chance. No one was listening. The excitement had tipped into something bigger than logistics could handle, so much so, the whole thing had to be abandoned, and the band slipped back inside, leaving a wave of collective heartbreak behind them. It was a crazy ass sight. Wild, electric, and strangely beautiful. A testament to how deeply people care, how much this music means, and how rare it is to see that kind of devotion up close.
Annalee didn’t manage to meet Ren in the end, so I felt it only right to honour her triumphant efforts here. She was a beautiful soul, brave, funny, and absolutely committed, but she wasn’t the only one who’d crossed borders to be part of this moment. There were others in the queue from across the States, and even further afield, all gathered for the same reason, waiting for a glimpse of the band like pilgrims at the gates of a very loud, very sweaty shrine. It stopped me in my tracks. Yes, social media plays its part, but what you were really seeing was the pull of something far rarer. This was talent and authenticity in its purest form.
I know musicians who get worn down, disenchanted, and sometimes question what the point of it all is. The grind, the uncertainty, the feeling that no one’s really listening. Understandably, it can chip away at you. But then you witness something like this, and it becomes impossible to deny the truth. This isn’t just a nice story about a dedicated fan. This is a reminder of what music actually does. It reaches into people’s lives in ways logic can’t explain. It rearranges priorities, rewrites plans, and pulls strangers across oceans and time zones for the chance to stand in the orbit of the people who created the songs that moved them.
If this isn’t proof that music is one of the most powerful forces we have on this hot mess of a planet, capable of shifting hearts, choices, and entire trajectories, I genuinely don’t know what is.
As for The Big Push and Ren, to wrap this up, I’d love to point you towards their next show, except there isn’t one. Not a single date. Maybe they’re plotting a winter tour. Maybe they’re on a beach somewhere, who knows. I’d personally love a cosy sit down gig with just Ren and his guitar, but that’s about as likely as me winning the lottery without buying a ticket. We can all but hope. But… “Until then, we hold onto the night we had, and we keep a little space in our chest for whatever comes next”.
Words and Photos by Shavorne Wilbraham
