It’s been over four years since DITZ last came through Sheffield, a fact that lead singer Cal Francis keeps reminding us of throughout their recent Yellow Arch set.
So long, in fact, that the Brighton-based band’s guitarist Jack Looker may not have realised the potential faux pas of wearing his retro Leeds shirt on a Sheffield stage! Either that, or, in keeping with the band’s tunes, he was being intentionally antagonistic.
And speaking of apparel, a reccy of the merch stand reveals they sell ‘DITZ socks’ – but at £12 for one pair, the Yorkshireman in me bokes. However, I feel like branching out beyond T-shirts should be normalised for bands at gigs. I’d buy (reasonably priced) kegs from a moderately successful band.
Anyway, shower thoughts and football rivalries aside, DITZ are touring on the back of their new album Never Exhale and find themselves in Yellow Arch on a Friday night (29 March). Support this evening comes in the shape of Leeds-based six-piece Van Houten (which begs the question – did they put DITZ up to the shirt?!).
Van Houten’s dreamy shoegaze offers some genuinely moving moments of epic crescendo, particularly their final song of the set (I, unfortunately, didn’t catch its name). Meanwhile, the lead single Coming of Age from their debut album The Tallest Room has a catchy, almost poppy vibe.
DITZ have been around for a while – so long, in fact, that while talking to James from Jarred Up Promotions pre-gig, he told me his old band, Blackwaters, were actually supported by them some seven years ago, back when the band was living in Guildford!
They’ve come a long way in that time and, following their 2022 debut album The Great Regression, their set this evening is testament to a great progression in sound – a sound that takes you right up to the precipice of the abyss before unsportingly drop-kicking you in.
And sound is of particular importance for this band; the heavy, almost doom-metal tendencies of the instrumentation, which leaves you feeling like a side of beef pounded by eager knuckles, have to be handled with care to allow Cal’s often-spoken verses to float over the top without being drowned out by a wall of nihilistic noise. Kudos to their soundman, to be fair.
They’re also tight as fuck, and their shirtless drummer, Sam Evans, is metronomically impressive! From a performance point of view, most of the heavy lifting is left to Cal, who exudes cool nonchalance, command, and a faraway stare that could deffo rival prime (alive) Ian Curtis.
Early in the set, they part the crowd to get themselves a shot at the bar. Later, they clamber on monitors and piss about with AC units before cajoling everyone into a thigh-crushingly long squat, which they eventually, and dismissively, allow to spring loose.
The Friday night crowd seemed a bit on edge early on – you could see a few people near the front nervously ready to go – but, in the end, it took a bit of orchestration from Cal, who, like a deadpan ringmaster at the end of the world, abandoned their thousand-yard stare just long enough to nonchalantly summon a pit with a few waves of their arm. Lemming-like, everyone did as they were told, and it went off.
Set highlight for me was Taxi Man, but I think I just really love it when a band bangs in a dancey open hi-hat (Femur and Fat Dog have a similarly involuntary effect on me!). We finish our glimpse into the band’s brutalist bedsit with Cal once again braving the monitors in heels and hanging the mic from the ceiling, behind yet another bruising barrage of sound.
We’re on a promise that they won’t wait another four years, so if the world hasn’t burned to the ground while DITZ watch on with a cigarette, we’ll see them then.
Listen here:
