Admiral Fallow | The Neckbreakers
One Ninetyfour, London
Sunday 16^th November

Eclectic Scots Admiral Fallow are still knocking it out of the park with their joyously crafted folk pop and eagle-eyed observations and tea towels on the merch desk. Steve Morgan buys in

Five albums across a decade-and-a-half since 2010’s stirring debut Boots Met My Face, Glasgow’s Admiral Fallow have crafted a body of work tender as it is tuneful, but as easy to classify as nailing jelly to a wall. If that has denied them the wider acclaim they richly deserve, those who celebrate hold them dear for precisely that reason, their dizzying, eclectic brew of folk, chamber pop, hushed lullabies, and post-rock is arguably a genre all of its own: the Admiral Fallow sound.

There are plenty of believers – be they first-timers or old hands – gathered on a Sunday night that feels like winter might be round the corner. One Ninetyfour is a new one on this reviewer’s watch, a basement ballroom in a grade II-listed building, once the administrative offices of the Royal Institute of Painters in Water Colours. Plush tiles act as a stage backdrop, a stone’s throw from the opulence of Fortnum and Masons, where above ground, Sunday night tourists mill past twinkling Christmas displays as they sidestep Piccadilly’s homeless.

Support comes from the excellent Neckbreakers, usually a quintet, but stripped down tonight to the core trio: siblings Ebony, Georgie and Maxx Palmer. They quickly win over the audience with their rich, lush harmonies, quirky stage presence and a grasp of light and shade beyond their tender years. Their jarringly misleading name, much more suggestive of a heavy rock outfit, turns out to be autobiographical: bassist Georgie escaped far more serious injury in an accident at university.

Their half-hour set is a charming confection of love or love gone wrong songs – ‘we’re happy people, honestly, just unlucky in love’, laughs Ebony. Well, it worked a treat for Fleetwood Mac, whose influence can be detected at times. The close-up view offers a fascinating exercise in familial dynamics; the knowing nods, smiles, and regular disarming asides all add to the charm. Given that they’ve only been gigging together for a couple of years, they’ve moved fast, with slots at Glastonbury and Latitude this year. There is clearly much more to come.

Admiral Fallow kick off with First Names (Storms), opener on their new album, First of the Birds. Over his hushed, finger-picked guitar, Louis Abbott’s vocals are swiftly joined by Sarah Hayes for an achingly wistful, romantic number that has become a signature sound. Always a band to admire for deft poetic wordplay, Abbott’s lyrical well shows no sign of drying up. “Soon there’ll be no such thing as news, only weather, and when we’ve run out of first names for all of the storms, there’ll still be you, there’ll still be me,” he croons. There’s a small pause before the applause as people take a moment for it to sink in: it’s quite the entrance. But as an introduction, it’s perfect. Like forebears such as the much-loved Blue Nile, Admiral Fallow specialise in sonic chronicles of life’s twists and turns, viewed through a variety of lenses, sometimes snowscapes through cracked, frosted panes, sometimes gorgeous sunlight through bay windows.

The sweet pop of Living For You is a rumination on parenthood, a familiar refrain and inspiration for Abbott, who later mourns his absence from his three-year-old daughter’s birthday the following day due to the touring schedule. Kinship, family, and friendship are recurring motifs; Abbott’s boldness to open up on these less-traditional rock subjects, especially sung by blokes, are a cornerstone of the band’s warmth and appeal. It’s the musical equivalent of a fireside chat, crackling logs in the grate and plenty of belly warming drams.

Shortest Night, another new cut, builds and swells, a chance for the excellent Phil Hague on drums to showcase his smarts amid killer chord-change shifts. Amid the new material comes a flurry of ‘deep cuts’ as Abbott calls them. Paper Trench and Old Fools sound magnificent, before a switch back to the new single, the cracking time-signature hopping Headstrong, a standout redolent of late Beatles and Super Furry Animals, and the excellent Daydreaming (Why Any of This?). There’s time, too, for a triptych of older numbers: Dead Against Smoking, where Kevin Brolly (the band’s sole native Glaswegian, fact fiends) and Hayes join forces on clarinet and flute respectively; the upbeat singalong stomp of Squealing Pigs, and perennial favourite, the jauntily bleak Guest of the Government. Here, the lyric ‘lined up like a pale-faced president’ feels especially stark in a Trump-dominated 2025.

Talking of bad actors, it’s a shame to report a minor scuffle at the back of the room, which makes a mockery of the first of the two-song encore. Ironically entitled All The Distractions, a sweet lullaby performed by Abbott and Hayes – it’s the second time the song has been cut short on the tour, following a member of the audience fainting in Manchester. Credit to Abbott for handling the moment with such good humour.

The end comes swoon, sorry, soon, after with a rousing rendition of another old favourite, Subbuteo, suffused with that stamp of melancholic beauty and building to a rousing, Sigur Rós-esque climax. That the subsequent queue for the merch desk reaches across the floor says it all. Here is a band with rare skill. Call them what you like stylistically, they’re an act to treasure, one still ahead of and apart from the pack.

~

Admiral Fallow can be found here on their Website and Facebook. They are also on Bandcamp and Instagram

All words by Steve Morgan. Steve is on Bluesky Social here

Photos by Magda Campagne. You can find more of her work here on her website |  Instagram