Newcastle City Hall isn’t your typical indie venue, it’s steeped in history, more theatre than gig space, its classical prestige lending a kind of grandeur to the night. But that didn’t stop the standing area from being rammed right back to the doors, buzzing with post-support-set energy after Arkayla and Feet had done their jobs perfectly. Up in the dress circle, barely a seat sat empty, a sea of fans, new and old, united by a shared love for The Royston Club’s sound, lyrics, and unfiltered connection with their audience.

The lads, Tom Faithfull (lead vocals, rhythm guitar), Ben Matthias (lead guitar, main songwriter), Sam Jones (drums), and Dave Tute (bass), took to the stage for their Songs for the Spine tour, a collection that marks a clear step forward from their debut. It’s an album that digs deeper, drawing on more vulnerable, emotional stories. Ben’s been open in interviews about wanting to strip away the polish, and that’s exactly what you get here: raw honesty over perfection. Working with Richard Turvey (who’s apparently known for pulling truth out of performance), they’ve landed on something heartfelt and relatable; love lost, recovery found, and lessons learned along the way.

From the first few chords of “The Patch Where Nothing Grows”, it was clear the night was going to be special. The audience didn’t just sing along, they roared along, fists raised, voices cracked, united. Every song, “Glued to the Bed,” “Blisters,” “Through the Cracks,” “Curses and Spit”,  landed like a shared confession, and by the time Tom and Ben took the mic for an acoustic “A Tender Curiosity,” you could’ve heard a pin drop.

The energy ebbed and surged in perfect rhythm, heavy bass from Dave and Sam’s drumming pushing through the crowd’s pulse, teasing the next wave of noise. In “Crowbar,” the crowd finally surrendered to clapping in time with the drums, while “I’m a Liar” delivered a drum solo worth shouting about. (Come on, Sam, more of that, please!)

Tom’s voice was exceptional. Cleaner and more controlled than even some of the recordings from the album, yet still carrying the same raw passion. He’s the kind of frontman who knows how to make a crowd feel part of the performance, tossing out lines, waiting for the echo, hands on hips, eyes locked on the crowd. Ben and Dave’s harmonies melted perfectly into his lead, building layers that drove the emotion sky-high.

It was impossible not to get swept up in it. Even those presumably advised to stay seated (health and safety rules and all that) couldn’t resist, with plenty of tapping feet and clenched fists punching the air. Any gaps between songs were met with chants of “Royston!” and humble nods of thanks from Tom. You could see the camaraderie on stage too, more interaction than I’ve seen at previous gigs, the four of them leaning in, contact between songs, waiting for Sam’s drum cues, and clearly enjoying every second.

I first caught The Royston Club at Leeds Festival two years ago, a small-ish tent, a crowd of maybe 40 die-hard fans, but that unmistakable spark was already burning. Then at Kendal Calling this year, a main stage appearance, unfortunately with some guitar tech frustration, but then the melodic cherry on the cake, they pulled off a secret set that reminded everyone who could squeeze into the Tim Peak’s Diner what they’re about; mates making music that moves a room.

(Were you there? Well, I was the one with the banner. IYKYK.)

This show, though, felt like a step up. Bigger venue, tighter sound, and a confidence that comes from hard graft and genuine connection. I overheard someone say as the lights came up, “They’re on fire.” I couldn’t agree more.

If you haven’t seen The Royston Club yet, do it. Catch them now, before the venues get even bigger and the tickets harder to find. These lads are on their way.

30th October 2025