A Dear Review of Our Dear Friends
- HIDEOUS Magazine
- Sep 15
- 4 min read
Updated: Sep 16
Words by Angelika May
When I am old and grey, my skin lined and furrowed, I will look back to the celestial nights of my youth. Nights when beneath September’s inclement skies, dear friends, our dear friends, gathered to kindle the unbreakable spirit of community within the smouldering, sweat-soaked furnace of the Shacklewell Arms.
Our Dear Friends was born of devotion: a testament to the bands we share, and the brilliance and those who embody the beating heart of London’s grassroots music scene. It is a work of love and tenderness, and in a world that seems ever more consumed by flames, there is no finer remedy than to dance together arm in arm, fringe plastered to your brow, bodies colliding in joy as the room thunders with life.
Easing us into the night, Our Dear Friends, opened with Mary Elizabeth, a trio blending elements of classic rock with shoegaze textures. Their sound leaned heavily on reverb-laden guitar lines and cyclical, almost mantra like riffs that created a hazy, dream-drenched atmosphere. The vocals, delivered husky, carried a subdued melancholy that sat more as another layer in the mix rather than a focal point. Much of the emotional weight came through the instrumental writing, guitar passages that felt steeped in nostalgia, paired with steady, almost coming-of-age rhythms that could tempt you to lie in bed whilst the rain patters against your window, and scroll through text messages with an ex. Whilst the arrangements could at times be repetitive, the mood that Mary Elizabeth conjured has a reflective quality that draws you into a space somewhere between memory and reverie.
If you care about women, or have spent time traipsing around the South London music circuit, you’ll already know the name Scarlett Woolfe. A familiar presence on the circuit, Woolfe has in recent years become especially known for her avant-garde curations at The George Tavern, most notably A Woman Becomes a Wolf When She Learns How to Scream, as well as her wildly experimental project Weaving in Purgatory. This time, however Woolfe has returned to her roots, presenting a reimagined version of her earlier band, revamped, upgraded and made stronger by her detours into other creative avenues. It’s an example of how exploration shapes artistry, how the avant-garde sensibilities can linger, transform and ultimately enrich what came before, something especially evident in Woolfe’s opening, as she bent low, breathing deeply, preparing for the ritual of performance. Beyond her music, Woolfe has long been a driving force for change within the community. Through workshops, collaborations, and the bands she spearheads, she has consistently worked to uplift women and carve out a space for those who might otherwise feel excluded. I told Scarlett that night that she is one of my favourite women to have ever existed, and if you don’t know her yet, she may soon become one of yours too.
Now, onto the music. As I mentioned earlier, the influence of Scarlett’s experimental veneers has elevated her sound in this new iteration. With Miranda Gray-Aragoneses joining on violin, there is a haunting dimension to Scarlett Woolfe’s work, where once it leaned heavily on driving new-wave alt-rock textures, the addition of strings introduced a richness and depth that felt inevitable, as though the songs had always been waiting for it. This was especially striking in Poor Suzy, a crowd favourite addressing femicide. The urgent, insistent guitars carried their usual edge, but the violin carved out a solemn counterpoint that added both gravity and emotional resonance. It was a layering that deepened the impact of the song’s subject matters.
In short, Woolfe’s performance showed that she isn’t just part of the scene, but one of the pillars that props it up.
Our Dear Headliners were none other than Spanish Horses, a fantastic band that should be on everyone’s radar. Their music flows effortlessly between wistful melancholy and bursts of fun, optimistic energy. Whether it’s an uptempo country-tinged beat or a slower, more reflective rock song, there’s always an undeniable force driving their performance. It’s punchy, powerful, and absolutely infectious. I danced until my feet ached, and after hearing so much about them beforehand, I was thrilled that they more than lived up to the hype. Spanish Horses have managed to capture a sound that feels completely modern whilst carrying a timeless edge, which is exactly why the crows went wild by the end.
Their music is playful, with psychedelic twists and turns, electric guitar lines that feel tailor-made for a festival stage, warped and soaring to send you on a heady adventure. Underneath it all, the baseline stays irresistibly hooky, to add drive and depth that grounds the chaos and makes every track unforgettable.
So take your dear friends to Our Dear Friends, and revel in the beautiful chaos of community.
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