Mull It Over 057: Chalk - Live in Belfast
Well-oiled from a recent European run and roaring through their debut album Crystalpunk, Chalk arrive fully-loaded at Belfast's Limelight for a homecoming gig for the ages.
Originally published via Blowtorch Records
The re-industrialisation of Belfast is under way in 2026. As mainstream attention remains fixated on the all-conquering KNEECAP, a savage and beautiful undercurrent swells in the heart of this city in the form of a synth-edged, industrial cohort of bands that are lifting up a post-Good Friday Agreement generation on the foundation of the one thing that always brought a divided Ulster together: the floor-filler.
But in a post-Troubles Northern Ireland, trouble always abounds. Anxiety no longer hyper-localised to the streets of Belfast and Derry, the dank and depressing spectre of last summer’s anti-immigration protests and the rowing back of LGBTQ+ rights alongside the ongoing narrative surrounding the teaching of religion in our schools are unfortunately common perils across Great Britain and Ireland.
Leave it, then, to the artists to hold up a mirror. Belfast’s Enola Gay present a heavy political scowl across a prolific output of abrasive, post-punk/electronica. While newcomers Middler offer an industrial punch that challenges these recent mutations head on; straight out of student digs.
Leading the charge of this cavalcade is Chalk, the duo of Ross Cullen and Benedict Goddard who are unquestionably the band of the moment in Belfast. They have been touted across the music press as ‘alternative’, ‘post-punk’, ‘noise-punk’, ‘industrial’, ‘dance-punk’ and everything in between. For my own part, two years ago I described them as having “songs that feel and sound like the National Theatre in London or that one half of the Ulster Museum in Belfast.” All that is to say: it’s brutalism for your ears. However, there was one glaring omission in my critique: the disco lights. For all the Nine Inch Nails comparisons I was overly keen to make, there is a truth to the brute force of Chalk’s music that is also its most important element: you can dance to this stuff. A number 1 position on the UK’s Official Dance Chart would imply as much. So, I went to see for myself.
Well-oiled from a recent European run and roaring through the success of their suitably titled debut album Crystalpunk, Chalk arrive fully loaded at Belfast’s Limelight for a homecoming gig for the ages. The cauldron of Ormeau Avenue barely contains the sold-out throng of punks, metallers, indie kids and old-school ravers and parents alike, both dreading the inevitable morning sun. From the opening synths of “Tongue” to kick off the show there was simply no let-up. The band tears through their compact set which included a full run-through of Crystalpunk and some highlights from their fantastic E.P. trilogy Conditions that preceded the release of their full-length debut that helped birth a genuine buzz and excitement not seen since the early days of KNEECAP. Mosh-pits formed au-naturel and also under the expert snake-charming of frontman Cullen, who delivered this set of industrial punk with a Mick Jagger lithe that worked as he sang of intensely emotional experiences and heart-wrought passion to a crowd who may as well have been at Kelly’s in Portrush in 1992. The last rock ‘n’ roll band born of a genuine dance culture in a post-industrial city like this would be The Stone Roses in late 1980s Manchester.
It raged on. And it was leading up to the all-but-certain crescendo. Fans of the album knew it was coming. Introducing the last song of the night, Cullen expressed that “this song was written for tonight” as they launched into the as yet unchallenged fan-favourite “Beal Féirste” – a dancefloor anthem by way of “Born Slippy” and Orbital’s own “Belfast” it is not hard to imagine Cullen and Goddard dreaming about this exact moment when they were cooking this one up. “Shoulder to shoulder, shoulder to shoulder…” is the refrain that rings out as Belfast’s own bring the curtains down on a punishing, purifying set. Rave culture lives on as arms are thrown around the shoulders of strangers, and the band takes their leave. The all-familiar dance of the encore starts to rumble. Chants of “Olé, Olé, Olé” and “one more tune” take hold as if we’re at Shine in the old Mandela Hall circa-2015, as it’s the audiences turn to serenade. The lights go down once more.
And in the quintessential contradiction of what it means to be born of Ulster, Chalk cut through this 700 person love-in with the live debut of yet another belter.
“Get fucked” is the refrain this time.
The duality of an Ulster band.
My only regret? Responding to this rather innocuous question from my immediate right, midway through the show:
Person with moustache: “Are you a big fan of the band?”
Me: “I’m a Chalk-ice, man”.