Dog Race, Y, Jeanie and the White Boys and Bande á Part electrify East London for Night 3 of Hello 2026 review • DIY Magazine

January is the longest month. Few things grow in the dawning light of the new year other than vitamin D supplementation, Gymshark’s advertising budget, and the deskspace your newly acquired SAD lamp occupies. But tonight isn’t for pithy statements - it’s the third instalment of DIY’s Hello 2026 gig series, so we’ve put on the crimbo socks for another night at The Old Blue Last.

It’s immediately evident that tonight’s lineup is a good ‘un by the damp, sprawling queue curling out of the pub’s front door. Once upstairs, any whinging about nice weather for ducks is quickly blown out of the water by the dense crowds piling in for Bande á Part, who duly rip into a frenzy of muddy distortion, choppy bass riffing and looming slapback heavy vocals, courtesy of bandleader Sabina Hellstrom.

After opening with a bleak post-punk salvo, the group shifts gears into weightier, ominous and, at times, funeral-esque territory, which pairs the moodiness of Slint with the chaos of early Swans. Groaned vocals sway over coughing drums and droney guitars, veering towards doom or even stoner rock at times. On stage, Hellstrom’s shirt reads ‘stay inside’. With tunes this bracing, doing exactly that here at The Old Blue Last seems to be the only appropriate course of action.

After a short break to return our dental fillings to their correct positions, Jeanie and the White Boys clamber onstage in a whirlwind of hair thrashing and grooving, spring reverb guitar-work. Bluesy, proto-punk swagger is paired mightily with Jeanie Crystal’s timeless voice, but you would be foolish to let her technicality fool you - she’s as biting, quick and defiant as she is supremely talented. On ‘Boohoo Girls’, she calls out the blatant classism that’s “rife in this scene”, while taking aim at posh white men and the circles they inhabit within the arts. A truly natural performer, Jeanie - alongside her cherished White Boys - has this rapt crowd firmly in the palm of her hand.

If you're a regular in London’s gigging scene, you'll have noticed the dedication and fervour of punters who frequent Brixton's Windmill, zealously supporting the acts that emerge from this South London haunt. Tonight they're out in force in Shoreditch, ready to cause structural damage once Y hit the stage with their blend of arty dance-punk. And sure enough, as soon as the band crack into their first number, the pit opens up in earnest, full of joyous bouncing and sweaty hugs. Heady sax skronks are met with pulsing bass, while swirling riffs spider across the cacophony. Oscillating between groovy, '80s post-punk/pop numbers and heavy, Fat Dog-style dance-punk, Y are the ultimate party band; closer 'Why' - a particle accelerator of a tune - only serves to confirm the case.

Topping this stellar lineup comes Bedford coldwave quintet, Dog Race. Now, a conscious calm descends upon the OBL's sweaty cluster, as though a collective trance has arrested tonight’s revellers. Dog Race are in many ways performing a seance this evening, with vocalist Katie Healy’s voice sounding closer to a banshee trapped within a metal casket than anything remotely human. At times touching on Magazine or Siouxsie Sioux’s darker work, Dog Race are entirely engulfing in their desolation, but wholly captivating and intoxicating therein. A strangely comforting sonic embrace, their set is one after which the thought of leaving feels that much harder.