The Deaf Institute’s ground floor Lodge Room has always felt like the kind of place where bands come to either find themselves or lose themselves. Sometimes both happen on the same night. The 100 capacity room seems intimate without being too claustrophobic, stylish without being pretentious, and has that faintly bohemian charm that makes you wonder if the wallpaper has seen more bands than you have. The low ceiling keeps the sound tight, and the proximity between crowd and stage means there’s no hiding. If someone fluffs a note, everyone knows. If someone nails a moment, everyone feels. Tonight my camera bag contained 2 lenses that are way too big for the task at hand because I thought we were going to be upstairs, and a partially working lens that would have been spot on if it worked properly. Tonight was going to test me. I was already regretting not saving my Christmas and Birthday money to buy myself that Canon 24-70mm f2.8L I keep promising myself instead of constantly buying more records.
Kit Trigg walked onto the Deaf Institute stage with the kind of casual confidence that only comes from two things: (1) having played a lot of gigs, and (2) knowing you can make a room move with nothing more than a guitar, a voice, bass player, and a drummer who looks like he’s been told he’ll only get fed if he plays like his life depends on it.
Trigg’s history is already becoming part of his mythology. He’s been grinding through the UK circuit for years, building a reputation on raw, blues soaked riffs and a vocal delivery that sounds like it’s been marinated in equal parts gravel, honey, and mild exasperation at the state of the world. His songs carry that classic blues rock DNA with big bends and bigger grooves, but there’s a modern bite to them, a sense that he’s not just recycling the past but wrestling with it. In a room as intimate as this, his sound hit with even more force. The guitar tone was thick enough to butter toast with, and the riffs rolled out like they’d been waiting all day to be unleashed. His drummer, a man who appears to have made a pact with some kind of rhythmic deity, kept everything locked in with a ferocity that made the kit look like it owed him money.
What made the set so enjoyable was Trigg’s personality. He’s funny without trying to be, charismatic without forcing it, and has that rare ability to make a room feel like it’s in on the joke. At one point he introduced a song with a story that may or may not have been true, but was that kind of rambling, self aware humour that makes you warm to him instantly.
Musically, the set was a masterclass in dynamics. He knows when to pull back, when to let the riff breathe, and when to stomp on the accelerator. The crowd responded in kind, nodding, swaying, occasionally pulling the “ooh, that was tasty” face that only a well timed blues lick can provoke, and by the end of his set, the room was fully awake, warmed through, and ready for whatever came next. Kit Trigg didn’t just support the night, but also set the bar.
Fireheart took the stage with the kind of energy that only a band at the very beginning of their journey can bring. Equal parts excitement, nerves, ambition, and “let’s see what happens if we just go for it.” For a group playing only their second ever gig and the sublimation ink barely dry on their massive backdrop, they carried themselves with surprising assurance. Not cocky, not overly rehearsed, just quietly confident in what they’re building. Their history is short but already intriguing. Formed from musicians who’ve clearly spent time in other projects, Fireheart feel like the result of people finally finding the right combination and themselves. Their sound blends big choruses and tight, melodic rock with a modern edge, and guitar lines that weave rather than bulldoze. There’s a sense of craft to what they do, even at this early stage.
What stood out immediately (apart from Bret’s hair, but more on that later) was the chemistry. You can’t fake that. The band moved together, breathed together, and seemed genuinely thrilled to be onstage. The vocalist (Russ) was charismatic, expressive, and clearly comfortable in the spotlight, anchored the performance with a tone that carried both warmth and bite. The guitarist (Neil) played with a fluidity that suggested years of practice, while the rhythm section (Bret on bass, Kev on guitar and drummer Chris) kept everything grounded with a pulse that felt both steady and adventurous.
And then there was the humour. Fireheart have that charming, slightly chaotic stage banter that only new bands can get away with. It’s that kind of banter where someone says something without warning, the rest of the band laughs, and the audience laughs with them because it feels like being part of a shared moment.
Musically, the set was full of promise. Their songs already have shape, hooks that land, structures that make sense, and moments that hint at where they could go with more time and more gigs on a larger stage. They are built for, and ready for a larger stage and larger audiences.There were flashes of something bigger and you could feel the potential crackling around them. For a second gig, it was impressive. For a band with ambition, it was a statement.
The Deaf Institute has always been a place where you stumble upon something new, something exciting, something that feels like it’s still forming. Thursday night captured that perfectly. Kit Trigg brought the weight of experience and the looseness of a performer who knows exactly who he is. Fireheart brought the spark of a band discovering themselves in real time, and together they created a night that felt intimate, fresh, and quietly significant. The kind of gig you look back on one day and say, “I saw them when…”.
Special mention of the evening must go to bassist Bret’s hair – It took me a few seconds to get the setting on my partially working lens sorted, but once I did, his magnificent mane truly had a life all of its own, and my pics don’t do it justice at all.
Photos and Words by Gregg Howarth
