By his own reckoning, Matt Caughthran is on his 20th craft beer of the day. And 's frontman is not apologising for this at all. It's the feast of Samhain, in Irish mythology a day when the souls of the dead are permitted entry into the living world, and if you're going to be encountering spirits later, whether malevolent or blithe, easing into the hours of darkness protected by beer armour is entirely logical, indeed sensible.
That's our excuse anyway. Besides, today was supposed to be a day off for The Bronx, a chance for the Los Angeles quintet to draw breath and chill during a run of arena shows supporting Sum 41 on their final UK tour. Instead, good eggs that they are, The Bronx slotted in this one-off headline show in the capital, with just three weeks notice, and sold it out in a heartbeat.
This is as much for them as for us: Matt Caughthran freely admits tonight that 99.9% of the audiences he's faced in the past fortnight have no fucking idea who The Bronx are, and he understands and respects that, but this, he explains, is a chance to see the band as nature intended, up close and personal, with only true believers in the house. And it is nothing less than fucking .
In a just world, obviously, it'd be The Bronx, not Sum 41, who'd be headlining arenas in 2024. But, to be fair, The Bronx had their shot at the mainstream too. They had credibility, a stack of awed reviews, heavyweight management (shared with Fall Out Boy and Paramore), and a major label deal for their seco.