Screeching, squealing and slathering away, the woodland of the Sunrise Arena is the perfect place to lock away Weaves’ monstrous pop. As guitarist Morgan Waters wrestles with his instrument, whooping and wailing into its hollow body and toying with the feedback it creates, it’s beautifully captivating madness from the off.
‘Coo Coo’ finds their avalanching tumble of sounds hitting its sugar-sweet spot, as singer Jasmyn Burke runs in circles like a puppy off the leash. An oddly placed mosh pit breaks out before long, everyone from the ages of 16 to 60 piling in to smash bodies together with the same gusto that Weaves smash sounds. Half improvised (one particularly daft jam session toward the set’s prompting a stern word from the sound man for taking maybe a teeny bit too long) and yet tied tighter than a cub scout’s best tent ropes, word of Weaves’ incomparable live reputation might be spreading like wildfire, but there’s truly no one burning as bright right now.