First Bible Club Club-Night of the New Year @ The Windmill

First Bible Club Club-Night of the New Year

@The Windmill

Reporting anexciting moment for 2019 with the first club-night of the year by alternative event curators Bible Club. Having already gained notoriety in the Brixton area with a vast list of previous events, the night was nothing but a humble brag regarding their success.

Filled with a multitude of characters from those who are part of the furniture to novices, The Windmill was quickly filled until it was full to the brim. Having, for a long time now, become the hub of emerging musical talent The Windmill is like a watering hole for anyone looking to moisten their ears with the fresh indie nectar and feast their noses on the sweet smell of sweat and second-hand berets. Welcoming in the new year, Bible Club curated a lineup like no other which saw Brixton relics break bread with new-on the scene artists.

Kicking off the night was the almost mythical being Mister Miller. As one of said relics, there isn’t (or at least shouldn’t be) anyone in The Windmill who hasn’t at the least overheard someone spout her name.

Starting her music career from the ripe age of 13, Mister Miller is no stranger to the underground music scene and its mechanics. With a full length album, a series of singles and two EPs under her belt, Misty Miller has a the relentless spirit of a freight train that doesn’t show signs of stopping.

Not only working on her own songs, Miller makes up one half of duo Bad Parents who last year were regularly frequenting The Windmill stage along with many others. Her name has for so long been on everyone every body’s lips and is now a rare treat to see perform solo. As a member of the crowd asks “how has she been talked about for so long and still looks as if she hasn’t aged?”

Clearly this, now, twenty something has a timeless quality to her that when performing live spreads some-kind of mysticism that joins everyone together into a still clump – even if just for a moment. Her live performance embodied everything that makes her so lovable: turning vexations about coming of age and femininity into sweet harmonies layered over the top of angsty grunge riffs. Armed with a gutsy attitude and hardy vocals to match, Misty Miller is not just “another one of girls” with an acoustic guitar she’s way more rough and ready than that and doing whatever the fuck she likes too.

Next up were rowdy foursome hailing from North-East Yorkshire – Mice on Mars. While their name maybe reminiscent of kids shows like Button Moon, they couldn’t get any further away from childhood moderation.

Instead what they are four lads who come pint in one hand, gritty guitar fuzz in the other and spouting post-punk poetry about paranoia and David Icke.

Sounding as if The Clash had been born with the tongue of Lux Interior, their break neck rhythmic drums and spunky riffs are delightful salutes to quintessential punk motifs while also embracing the tongue-in-cheek mentality of the psychobilly genre. Fun is the only way to describe this outlandish riot, and their performances are only a reaffirmation of this.

Playing tracks from their only recorded EP Northern Soul as well as ones you can only see live, Mice on Mars invite you to get sweaty with them while you laugh at the weird curiosities of the mind and oddities of some people’s humanity. Although its’ easy nowadays to see an all-male post-punk, post-modern, post-truth and probably post-moral (however many “posts” are deemed artistically cool) on the Windmill stage and call them a Shame tribute band, what’s different about these guys is their lack of pretence and ability to make something good out of nothing.

Their music might not be prettiest and certainly not neatly cut, they are provocative with dark humour and loud regardless of any suggestion of small stature – it’s that makes Mars on Mice worth a trip on a rocket (or at least the tube) to see.


Saul Adamczewski is next to join the stage alongside saxophoning side-kick Alex White. As another sacramental member of The Windmill’s legacy, it’s a rarity and also, quite paradoxically, common to see Saul play Brixton’s answer to the Holy Land.

As both the praised as well as the damned, Saul is a missing toothed anomaly who never seems to cease to make something ugly beautiful. With a long musical history Saul’s artistic CV would appear to be endless, with most bands (such as Fat White Family and Insecure Men) still in releasing new music he’s the kind of guy that eats, drinks, and bleeds melodies.

Daring, despairing and at times disgusting, his music channels his passion for social commentary and his lived experiences no matter how defaming they may be. This always makes for an interesting performance, that leaves its audience uncertain of what tales their ear will be filled with.

Rocking a Go-Kart Mozart tee and an electric guitar, that night Saul’s audience were cradled by Saul’s almost soprano vocals and Alex’s mollifying sax as if they were a worn-out yet soft hands of a loved one. Playing tunes from his vast selection box of songs, the room were magnetised by tracks such as ‘Goodbye Goebbels’, ‘Whitney Houston & I’ and ‘Garden of the Numb’ that lured them into a sombre karaoke of Saul’s greatest hits.

Darling in its bleakness the performance was nothing but a treat to the eyes and ears that kissed the soul while it sang to you about “this cold inbred excuse for a world.”


In a complete atmospheric 180 were Scud FM who came in trumpet first. While Scud FM are a relatively new band on the scene, their members are far from beginners. Lead by Warren Mansfield, a man that appears to always be a mutual friend of someone’s, of Meatraffle, Scud FM make socialist polemic disco that will get you jiving to the sounds verbal attacks on capitalist means of production and mass consumerism.

Lending a consciousness to those who live in a false classed one, are five other members amalgamated on stage from a range of different bands on the scene who make such a ruckus the stage seemed like it struggled to keep them all contained. Heavily layered with a multitude of musical mediums, Scud FM don’t hold back from providing ear-piercingly loud riffs, quick-fingered bass, pounding drums, four vocalists, oh and a relentless tambourine.

Taking their name from Radio 4 News FM’s codename during the Gulf War, this multifaceted group work to the extremities of sound that takes their music to the pinnacle which is not only a nice nod to the experimental predecessor from which they were named after but is too irresistible to dance to.

Lively and fun-loving Scud FM are a great headliner to end the night on because like the best kind of cocktail Scud FM has a bit of everything in it from poetry, to ska, to electropunk that’s so intoxicating you’ll leave singing “it’s a funny old world” with them.


The Windmill have a number of great looking delights to tickle your fancy for independent venue week at the end of this month, here are some to get you drooling:

Phobophobes, Italia 90& Naima Bock, 29/01/19

Goat Girl, Tina& Great Dad, 30/01/19

The Rebel, Honkies& Mice on Mars, 31/01/19

Sorry, Glows, Hummah& Baraka, 01/02/19

Black Country, New Road, Sistertalk, Pregoblin, & Posa, 02/02/19

Pixx, Suitman Jungle& All the People, 03/02/19


Words By Aimee Williams-Maynard