Antony Szmierek’s Nottingham headline show arrives just weeks after the release of debut album The Service Station at the End of the Universe and it finds a perfect listening ground in Rescue Rooms.
This intimate, beloved space tucked behind Rock City has hosted countless artists on the cusp of something bigger and tonight is undoubtedly one of those nights; the incubator of an artist who’s hitting his stride with no signs of slowing down.
Szmierek’s rise has been refreshing in its authenticity. A former English teacher from Manchester, he emerged from the open-mic circuit and the fertile overlap of poetry and DIY music scenes. Since breaking out with the viral ‘The Words to Auld Lang Syne‘, he’s consistently carved out a unique niche an innovative equilibrium between John Cooper Clarke and The Streets – a sprinkling of LCD Soundsystem and Sleaford Mods thrown in for good measure. But what sets him apart is the undeniable warmth and charm that exudes not only from his lyricism but his knack for making a room of strangers feel like old mates.
When Szmierek takes the stage, it’s to a packed, eclectic, buzzing room – with no discernible demographic his fans seem impossible to pin down. There’s no dramatic entrance or over-the-top lighting – just a beaming frontman in a green shell suit top, white trainers, from which opens with the album’s title track.
Szmierek’s live show is the perfect distillation of what makes his music work. His lyrical dexterity, so apparent on record, becomes even more magnetic in person. He makes eye contact, calls out fans, cracks jokes between songs – makes best friends with a middle aged woman called Lynn and tries to repeatedly steal crowd member’s vapes.
‘The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Fallacy‘ gets an early airing and ‘Yoga Teacher’, a cheeky takedown of self-styled mindfulness gurus, has the room bouncing. The ‘Great Pyramid of Stockport’ – his wry tribute to a repurposed office block -is an unexpected highlight, met with a full-throated singalong. Halfway through the set, the support acts come out and throw ripped off chunks of baguette and cheese singles into the crowd. It’s a confident choice that seems to pay off as people giddily scramble to be face palmed by the cheese.
Midway through, things take a turn for the reflective with ‘Rock and a Calm Place’, and it’s here that Szmierek’s emotional depth comes into focus. “Aren’t we all just smashed atoms and poached egg on toast?” is oddly profound when heard live. And somehow makes complete sense.
During Rafters, he launches himself into the crowd, orchestrating what he dubs a “poetry mosh pit” – an oxymoron that somehow makes total sense in this context. Mobile phones barely make an appearance; Szmierek notices too: “You’re here now,” he says near the end. “It doesn’t matter where you’re going after. It’s Monday tomorrow. But not yet”.
That moment reaches its emotional peak with ‘The Words to Auld Lang Syne’. It’s the song that launched him, and it carries this nostalgic weight. “Tomorrow’s never promised / But neither was today”. It’s a quietly powerful closer.
What makes Szmierek such a compelling live performer isn’t just his lyrics, though they are sharp, funny, and frequently brilliant. It’s the balance he strikes he’s part-poet, part-ringleader, part-mate-at-the-pub. There’s a generosity to his performance. It’s intimate, electric, unforgettable.
