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There’s something beautifully stubborn about The Fades. A four-piece from South West London, hurling their sound like a Molotov of post-punk, garage rock, and indie chaos into the noise void. Fully aware it might echo back as silence. And yet, they keep showing up. Sweating on pub stages, hauling amps into corners of the UK you won’t find on any music blog, because that’s what you do when you’re in too deep to quit and still in love with the mess of it all.
I’ve been there myself – lugging gear through a back alley, wondering if it’s worth it. It always is, somehow.
Their new single This Scene Is Over, out via Bark Like a Dog Records, comes in raw. No pleasantries. It’s actually a shout from the belly, a frantic riff-fueled open letter to everyone who’s dared to give a damn about local scenes or DIY ethics.
You hear this in the first beat. But This Scene Is Over feels like every night I watched a band build a gig from nothing. With no promoter, no plan, just guts. I’ve been in that room. Played in it too. For bands scraping together last-minute petrol money just to make the gig.
The track barrels forward with melodic angst, shaking loose every ounce of frustration and exhaustion that comes from trying to exist as an independent act in the UK right now. Venues are closing, rents are exploding, and the algorithm doesn’t give a flying cymbal crash if your chorus shreds. We all know that. But This Scene Is Over steps forward with teeth bared. Every note aimed straight at the chaos it came from.
The Fades are not talking in vague metaphors here. This is personal. From the weight of social media expectations to the soul-numbing grind of self-promotion, The Fades are holding a mirror to the reality many musicians live daily. I’ve got no time for pity, and neither do they. What I hear is frustration with bite, like they’ve carried this too long and finally let it out.
As they put it, “This song is for every band that’s loaded gear into a tiny venue, played to a few people, and kept going anyway.” I’ve seen those gigs. I’ve played those gigs. Sometimes the few people are just the sound guy and someone’s mum. But sometimes, that’s enough to spark something electric.
Here’s what hit me the hardest: it’s the people. The ones who make it possible, who show up, who keep the whole thing alive. Those small venues – barely hanging on with rising utility bills and bureaucratic chokeholds – are the lifeblood of real scenes. They’re where you find your people, where genres cross-pollinate, and where the magic of live music actually still matter.
The Fades get it. They’ve been both on the floorboards, and on the playlists. And This Scene Is Over sounds like their last breath before catching a second wind. Way too honest to be comfortable, which is exactly what it needs to be. So, here’s to the bands still trying. To the venues with sticky floors and sacred echoes. To the scenes I still believe in, even when they feel worn out. I’ve seen them come back before. I know they will.
This is not a farewell, guys. I heard a band still swinging, still showing up when it’s easier not to. That’s the part that stuck with me. Listen, follow, show up when it counts – even on Facebook, Instagram, Spotify, YouTube.
Written by: Flav
bands energy fades garage grit guitar Indie live London Music postpunk Release scene Single UK venues
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