Beans on Toast at first glance is the kind of band you may write off as being akin to Noah Kahan but a little less moody. Unfortunately, that is the judgement I made in my ashamedly minimal research prior to the gig; after skim-listening to their most popular song on Spotify ‘Watching the world go by’ on my walk into Womanby street. I have never been more wrong.
Ruth Lyon as the opener truly blew me away, with warm yet perfectly edgy crowd work. Her vocals bowled me over as a fan of soulful music and slightly aggressive musical messaging. My personal favourites from her set on the keyboard was ‘Caesar,’ the final song of her set about killing a man who wronged her, and ‘Clown,’ with the floaty chorus drifting me away into the airy strobing shine of the Clwb Ifor Bach Disco ball. Later in the main set, it was revealed Ruth was the incredibly talented fiddle player of Beans on Toast, and that it was her birthday that day. I felt privileged to spend her special day appreciating her dedication to her artistry, and I told her as much between sets.
I missed the main band’s entry onto stage when getting a pint, but was embraced by a joyously dedicated crowd of fans when I re-entered the space. The demographic seemed older, late thirties up to fifties, with me and my date feeling slightly out of place. However, Jay McAllister quickly squashed my assumptions of indie millennial folk music, with powerfully evocative statements that to me felt aligned with the political ideals consistent with many people of my age. The colloquial tone between songs was quickly comforting, even initially feeling slightly shocking at the openness. However, I quickly warmed to the unashamedly accepting messaging and the relevance of today’s issues within their music and McAllister’s (Beano) presentation of this.
I was swept through a whirlwind of messaging contrasting the inefficacy of pelican crossings and World War Three; before being tipped into fun music that I wanted to sway to and even began singing along to at points despite my unfamiliarity. The stories behind the songs felt almost as important as the songs themselves. I remember being gripped by the tale of the whimsical hippy woman Beano and his family bought their house from; and how she related to his personal experiences with Glastonbury festival (where the band was formed).
The magical rawness of the small venue gig won me over, with amusing mishaps with the smoke machine being professionally yet humourously moved past, and making intergenerational references to Gen X being “the generation that stopped ironing”, followed by a roomful of comfortingly likeminded people singing along to “That’s why I don’t drink Tequila Anymore”.
The soft gritty realism of the gig was almost enchanting, with a reverence within the crowd for the fun music and humorously absurdist commentary of the lyricism and the band.
By the end of the gig, I was truly equal parts entertained and filled with the sort of thrilling shock only a grounded, realistic British band can bring to a person. Ruth Lyon and Beans on Toast have gained a new fan in me, and I hope they gain a fan in you too. In the eternal wisdom of Jay McAllister,
“Peace and love, man.”
PS. Jay, I do not think your politics are simple, but simple in a manner of clear morality and a refreshing disdain for corruption. I hope my review did a better job of representing this, than the review you mentioned when on stage.
Words by Rebecca Watson
