Fortunately, the drive from Bury in Lancashire to The Tivoli in Buckley didn’t involve too many of Wales’ now infamous 20mph zones, because if it had, Florence Black’s set would’ve felt like it was over quicker than the journey. As it turned out, the band still managed to outpace the Welsh Government’s sense of speed regulation, delivering a performance that moved with far more urgency than any stretch of road you’ll find west of the border.
Photo wristband collected, I slipped inside and found myself among the first in. It’s always a strange privilege seeing a venue like The Tiv before the bodies, noise and heat transform it into something else entirely.
Starting life in the 1920s as a cinema and theatre, built on the site of the old Central Hall. The Tivoli ran as a picture house until 1961, before being reborn in the mid 60’s as a dance hall and cabaret venue. Through the 70s, 80s, and 90s it evolved again, becoming a nightclub and eventually a full time live music venue, hosting everyone from Led Zeppelin and Black Sabbath to a famously wild Oasis show in 1994. Today, it stands as one of North Wales’ most iconic grassroots venues and with Florence Black rolling into town and bringing South Wales newcomers De’Lour along for the ride, The Tiv was always going to feel alive tonight.
Walking out in a support slot can be a thankless task at times. You’re playing to a room that’s still filling, to people who may not know your name, and to fans who are saving their energy for the main event, but De’Lour didn’t walk out like a band trying to win people over. They walked out like a band who already knew that they belonged there. What stood out most was their intent. Every track felt purposeful. They didn’t want to be there just to pad out the evening, so poured everything they had into a room that quickly realised they were worth paying attention to.
The Tiv crowd, famously honest and occasionally hard to impress, shifted from polite interest to full engagement within minutes. Heads started nodding. People moved closer. Phones came out. You could feel the room warming to them track by track, and by the time they hit their final song, De’Lour weren’t just the opener anymore. They were a band who had carved out their own moment, proving that South Wales continues to produce bands that really have a lot to say.
Florence Black didn’t walk onto that stage. They arrived. The moment the lights dropped and the first riff tore throughout The Tiv, the entire room snapped into focus. It was the kind of opening that doesn’t ask for your attention. It takes it. Instantly, cleanly and completely.
What stood out most for me was how assured they sounded. They didn’t look, sound or feel like a band still trying to prove themselves, or one leaning on nostalgia, or one coasting on the strength of older material. This was a band performing with the confidence of a group who know that in regards to sheer stage presence, musically and creatively they’ve hit their stride. The older tracks landed with the same explosive energy they always have, but it was the new material from album three that really told the story of where Florence Black are right now. Those songs didn’t feel like fresh additions because the audience made them feel like they’d been part of the live show for years. That’s the kind of connection most bands dream of.
The band fed off it too. You could see it in their faces. It was an undeniable mix of pride, adrenaline, and disbelief that comes when you realise your new songs aren’t just being heard, but being claimed by the audience already.
I’ve loved Florence Black since I first saw them tearing up FAC251 back in 2019, only two EPs deep and talking about their first album like it was a distant dream they were still shaping. Back then, they had that raw, hungry energy you only get from a band who know they’ve got a statement to make, but haven’t yet had the chance to prove it to the world.
Fast forward to now, standing in The Tivoli with album three freshly released, and it hit me just how far they’ve come. This wasn’t just a band playing new material, but a band unveiling songs that already felt lived in. You could hear large pockets of the crowd singing back the lyrics verbatim, even though the album only dropped earlier that day and tracks had barely been out long enough to settle into playlists. That doesn’t happen by accident. That’s the sound of a fanbase growing with the band, not behind them. Watching Florence Black command the stage with that level of confidence felt like I was witnessing the payoff to a journey I’ve been quietly tracking for years. The band I once saw in a cramped Manchester club now had a crowd treating brand new songs like classics. It’s the kind of moment that made smile to myself as I was shooting from the crowd.
That’s the beauty of following a band from their early days I suppose. You don’t just hear the progression, but feel it. You feel it in the way the crowd reacts. You feel it in the way the band carries themselves. You feel it in the way the new material lands with the same weight as the old favourites. Florence Black aren’t just levelling up. I genuinely feel like they’re stepping into the space they were always destined to fill.
