This week, I had the unbelievable privilege of attending the sold-out Panchiko show at the UC Theater. Panchiko’s lore runs deep. In the late nineties, they were a British indie band with a dream. They made thirty copies of their demo, D>E>A>T>H>M>E>T>A>L (2000), but were never picked up by a record label. In 2016, a copy of this demo was discovered in an Oxfam charity store in Nottingham and was promptly uploaded to 4chan. Since then, Panchiko has skyrocketed to over a million monthly listeners on Spotify alone. I was particularly excited to cover this show because of how much I enjoyed their set at the 2023 Sick New World Festival in Las Vegas. Naturally, a festival setting makes it difficult to get in close proximity to the band, so the night posed a new opportunity to make it to the front.
Accompanied by nothing but a half-empty Monster Zero Ultra, a loose driver’s license, and my apartment keys, I caught the 51B after class and headed to the venue. I was confronted with a sprawling line of hundreds of excited alternative concertgoers. The excitement amplified once the doors were opened: some put out their joints and others discarded their McDonald’s wrappers (side-eye). Once I finished inching my way to the front, I had considerable time to people watch. The fans at the show were interesting to say the least… A few girls to my right bragged about passing for college students at the young age of fourteen, while a friend group to my left discussed which Mitski songs had the highest likelihood of sending them into a depressive spiral. It’s also worth noting that the money spent on eyeliner among the concertgoers probably rivaled the GDP of a small European country.
After what felt like eternity, Glare came on stage! Despite their limited discography, I am a huge fan of their music. They are known for their extremely heavy, atmospheric shoegaze tracks coupled with dreamy vocals. Unfortunately, as they started progressing through their set, it became clear that their vocals were not properly mixed. During their performance of “Bloom,” I was enveloped by a lovely cloud of bass and guitar, but I wished that more precautions were taken during their soundcheck to ensure that their voices came through. There were several times where Glare fumbled with the pedals; the guitarist in my direct view was visibly upset, whispering “fuck!” as he desperately tried to self-correct. I felt so deeply for them since Glare is a massively talented group and brought immense enthusiasm to the stage.
Glare during their set
The mixing issue improved substantially in the middle of their set once they stopped to tune and adjust their pedals. One of the vocalists addressed the crowd and said “We’re trying our best,” which melted my heart. When faced with several technical challenges, they persisted and worked hard to ameliorate them, earning praise from the audience in the process. This adjustment came just in time for them to play “Blank,” their most streamed song and one of my favorite shoegaze tracks to date. One thing I hastily noted on my phone during their set was, “when it was right, it was SO RIGHT.” Maybe it was the pedals, or maybe it was the sheer musical talent, but Glare’s instrumentals sent me to another planet—the sound reverberated through my bones in the best way. With three guitars, a bass, and a drum kit, they produced an insane amount of noise; I could almost feel the tinnitus develop in my ears in real time (please wear ear protection to concerts, kids). Although the tech problems left me feeling unfulfilled as they wrapped up their set, I have high hopes that the next time I will see them live will be a massive improvement.
A short time later, Panchiko came on stage and were welcomed by guttural, feral screams from fans who could not wait a second longer before their performance. The members of the band exuded positive energy, grinning ear-to-ear when they snuck glances at the audience while setting up their instruments. Panchiko started off strong with “Stuck,” a Ferric Oxide (2020) track, where frontman Owain Davies sounded eerily similar to early Thom Yorke. Throughout the entire performance, it felt like the audience was releasing their pent up energy. They even began moshing during mellow “NeilSSong,” much to the enjoyment of guitarist Rob Harris who cracked a smile. One of the standouts of the night was “Until I Know.” It was beyond entertaining to hear a mostly-acoustic demo be brought to life by the crowd’s singing and the band’s layered instruments. I was overcome with joy when they started playing “Laputa,” whose namesake is the 1986 animated film Castle in the Sky. The song opens with wistful, twinkling piano notes that I swayed along to. Panchiko has this terrifying ability of making one feel nostalgic for a time that one has never experienced. In a state of quiet catharsis, I stood there, longing for what could have been and what has already come to pass.
Panchiko members Andy Wright and Owain Davies
Another key moment of the night was when they played “D>E>A>T>H>M>E>T>A>L,” the title track and their arguable claim to fame. Bar by bar, they masterfully layered each component to create an eclectic harmony; Davies used an on-stage mixer to add in the Sega CD warning they originally sampled and keyboardist Andy Wright slowly began playing the opening notes. It almost felt like I was catapulted back 20 years and into the basement where they originally recorded the song. Panchiko ended the night with “Kicking Cars,” a slower ballad and the last song on their debut album. Davies’ belts sent chills down my spine—I could not have asked for a better way to close the show. Overall, it was a night well spent. If you are ever able to, consider snagging tickets to their next Bay Area show. Until then, enjoy the lore and stream their R>O>T versions on Spotify, where they preserve the original disc rot quality that the songs were discovered in. When you listen to the fuzziness and scrambled audio, thank the magical absurdity of the internet for uncovering the musical genius that is Panchiko.
Article by Sofia Biagio
Photos by Karen He and Sofia Biagio