An Evening At University

Words: Ellis Barker

A band with a name like University will naturally conjure some pretty potent imagery to many. Nearly 3 million students each year are in higher education in the UK. For most, it is the defining chapter of their young lives. But for the members of University, it is an entirely different beast. None of the band ever went on to higher education. Instead, they hunkered down in their hometown of Crewe, practiced 8 hours a day for 18 months, and crafted a curriculum of their own. After dropping their first EP and signing to Transgressive in 2023, they released their debut album, McCartney, It’ll be OK, last year. With their exceptional musicianship, absolute reverence for those key players who came before, and a

sound and energy entirely unique to themselves, University have quickly positioned themselves as champions of a new wave of UK hardcore, emo and math-rock, whether they like it or not. What it looks like to graduate in a degree from the University of University then, is a question on the lips of many. Just what is the deal with these guys? With the band returning to Leeds as part of a hardcore showcase night, An Evening at University would be the perfect education.

Friday 17th January. Leeds. Brudenell Social Club. Community room.

Watching the band set up, a steady thrum signals an ever-swelling mass of people building up around the stage. The boys in the band appear non-reactive, but their limbs betray them. Fingers contort and dance in repetitive patterns over strings, drumsticks flutter nervously across knees. Vocalist and guitarist Zak has his shoes off and paces back and forth behind the mic. Furtive glances between band members suggest some sort of non-verbal communication, an aligning of minds. These spurts of movement seem to build to a breaking point, yet they seem to be holding back for something. Or someone. Finally, heralded by a smattering of applause by die-hard fans, up walks Eddie. His face

concealed by black ski mask and a KFC baseball cap, he stands tall as the true mascot for the band. A mysterious, somewhat alien, aura emanating from him, he proudly holds up a sign: “History of Iron Maiden Pt.2”

The band launch their assault. Like most of their songs, History is a sprawling epic, an intricate web of a hundred different small ideas, rhythms, grooves, all colliding into each other. This is the signature sound of University. Another band would find one or two musical ideas and flesh them out into a full piece, let each part breathe. But with University, each idea is shot at you at breakneck pace, before immediately being replaced by a new section. What makes it work is the band’s deep understanding, not only of each other, but of the melodic through lines that underpin each song. What may appear to be a brick wall of noise upon first listen, is later revealed to be a collection of individual performances

that weave and intertwine to make one remarkable whole.

Eddie doesn’t seem to care about any of that though. Sat cross-legged directly in the middle of the stage floor, in front of the rest of the band, he hunches over a laptop, playing Counterstrike: Source on a trackpad. Some could argue that is the most impressive technical feat of the night. Seeming completely oblivious to the world around him, he very well could be sat on his bedroom floor. His body language gives off an air of mild annoyance as he pauses to herald the next song, as though the

audience is in the wrong for daring to interrupt his game.

Hustlers Metamorphosis, a cut off the band’s debut album, is a wholly different beast live. The band endlessly push themselves to the brink of losing it all, the rhythm, the melody, constantly flirting with the knife’s edge. To focus on any individual member is to watch a fiery inferno, isolated in a vacuum. Zak’s toes curl as he leans back on the balls of his feet. Between his guitarwork and his vocals, he is lost in the performance. On the opposite side of the stage, on the far left, Ewan stands relatively stoic, endlessly etching grooves into the soundscape. His face winces in anticipation of himself, waiting for a slip-up that never comes. In-between them both, spray from beads of sweat bouncing up off the floor

catch in the light, glistening in a haze around drummer Joel. By his feet, a thorough dusting of wooden splinters cover the floor, enough to give a beetle-sized woodcutter a hefty payday. He simply never lets up. Centre stage, Eddie loads up another round of Counterstrike.

It is worth mentioning the comparisons between University’s unique sound and types of freeform, experimental jazz. The trading of the spotlight between instruments, the rapid flow between tempo, dynamics and rhythm, and the seemingly improvised nature of the lengthy arrangements are elements shared by both camps. This is further solidified when you find out the band cite the later work of Miles Davis as one of their inspirations. Looking around at the audience, the entire crowd is enraptured. Their faces are twisted in gruesome delight, but their feet are still. No one can dance to this, it’s too unpredictable.

The bands final song, an unreleased number by the definitely-not-already-taken name of Post Malone, is a heartfelt instrumental expression from the band. A snare roll and bouncing bassline builds the song, and with each new layer added to the piece, the air in the room tightens. The song whines and pleads with you, begging you to take it seriously. The performance from the boys reaches its apex. When it’s over, there’s a distinct hollowness in the room. Though the stage stands only a couple metres away and elevates the band only a metre off the floor, the four lecturers at University seem to tower far and away from the audience. They are wholly alien and unique in their appearance

and sound. For some they are too far away, too dissimilar to what is understood as conventional. Some will find their music harsh, abrasive, nigh-on unlistenable. What is undeniable however, is the strength of their musical and technical abilities. Alongside this, the conviction with which the band present their works live, each song taking on a whole new quality when combined with the visual of the performance in front of you.

An hour and a half later, and the band are looking distinctly less alien, far more like four young men in the early stages of their career. The change in scenery helps. Huddled in a group round the side of the social club, framed by a steel hillock of beer kegs and the smog of a million cigarettes, University are now just four best mates from Crewe. Zak and Joel take the charge. Oddly enough, they talk how they play. Much like his bass work, Ewan stays out the foreground for much of the time, hiding under his ushanka, however when he comes to the forefront it is always with something of insight and importance. You would be forgiven for not recognising the final member of the entourage, as without

his KFC hat and ski mask, Eddie Leigh is a changed man. A mane of shoulder-length black hair and a disarming smile, and you wouldn’t be surprised to find yourself blushing when he looks your way.

“We’re trying to make music that gets better each time you listen to it. You find something new every time you come back,” explains Joel. It’s a conversation on what they want to get out of their music. “I think it was Lil Uzi Vert who said something like ‘If you listen to it the first time and you think that it’s good, then it’s probably boring’. It’s going to become annoying, and it won’t really sit with you.” The band are determined to find something that they can truly call their own, pushing themselves and the listener to new places.

Given the achieved outcome for the band, their processes for songwriting become a look into a mad scientist’s laboratory. University is a conclave of wizards, meeting up in their mystical dungeon in suburban Crewe to craft scrolls of musical wonder. Joel explains the magic: “It’s kind of like [Zak and Ewan] throw ideas back and forth and then I try and put them into linear sections and plan it all out, like pieces of a puzzle.” His brow furrows. “It’s getting kind of tough at the moment though, very different to what we used to,” he adds. “Zak’s writing in this weird alternate tuning, so Ewan’s having to innovate because of that and going mental, and I have to start playing like a real drummer”. He takes a drag from his cigarette. “There’s this thing we have where everyone starts trying to be the loudest in the room, and that’s when the mad stuff starts."

There’s an impression that behind all this nonchalant bravado and intrinsic kookiness is a band that know exactly what they’re doing and where they want to be. They may act like they don’t know and don’t care, but University wouldn’t be where they are currently if not for a plan and a passion. “It’s about building up that local scene, building a community,” Joel elaborates with broad gesticulations. “I guess the end goal is to be the UK’s biggest emo band, obviously in America they’ve got a really big scene going on with that. When that wave eventually hits the UK, we’ll hopefully already have a couple albums out.” Planning out their future and their legacy, the band are committed to themselves and their sound. It is this self-belief that propels them forward.

This proper forethought then perhaps raises questions about the authenticity of the band’s act. In the age of viral marketing, everything’s a gimmick. A more cynical observer would call elements such as the lack of shoes and Eddie’s stage act a carefully crafted marketing stunt, a way of building a unique image and brand. But a raving band of performative males University are not. You talk to the band, and they are as eclectic as they appear to be, regardless of whether the cameras or stage lights are on them. An extended detour in the conversation leads to a discussion on the band’s favourite games. Perhaps the most talking of the night is done in the ensuing five minutes. “I’m sweating Terraria at the

moment, I’ve got over a thousand hours on that game easy,” exclaims Zak. His tone is a mix of shame and pride. Things get heated when arguing for its 3D competitor, Minecraft, but Joel diffuses: “It’s Beatles v Stones, just enjoy them both.” Ewan sheepishly explains his choice, his message and tone sending a seemingly genuine warning; “There’s this game called Kenshi, please don’t play it, that game has taken hundreds of hours from me, don’t play it.”

The boys know where they’re about. “We occupy that space of a small cult band, that’s what we’re going for. We know we’re never going to be top 40.” Zak carries half a smirk, as though the idea of a UK number one is something from a skit. “I think we’ll at least go down as a band that influenced. We’ll get recognised and appreciated more in 20 years,” Joel adds. Though the group are being hailed as the champions of the new wave in some circles, the weight of that legacy doesn’t hang too heavy on their shoulders. “There’s a weird ‘don’t think about it and then think about it way too much’ sort of thing,” says Joel. Instead, they see it as their prerogative to champion those bands that went under the

radar but that are core to the bands sound; “We’re almost like a gateway band in a way. We’re really abrasive but we have a lot of pop.” But some of University’s inspirations didn’t get the same love they did. “There are a few bands that we’re tyring to carry on that sort of ethos, bands that we felt like never really sort of got tapped into.” He continues, “Dilute, Nouns, Brave Little Abacus, they’re the main three.”

Throughout the whole conversation, the band are constantly spewing out band and album recs. From deep cuts like Cardiacs, Hella and Swell Maps to current favourites such as Uncle Junior, Paper Hats and Brian Eno, the bands taste and influences are both wide-ranging and decisively cult. The one who says silent throughout almost the entire time is Eddie, but that doesn’t mean his presence isn’t felt. When asked what he sees as his role in the band, it is simply “Leader.” Through what means? “Whatever necessary.” The group repeatedly say that Eddie writes all the songs, but the grins on their faces as they say it leaves the phrase up to interpretation. it is undeniable however, that Eddie is absolutely integral to the band, and to the boys themselves.

The group will no doubt balk when they read this piece. Such is the case when you try and attach any lens of grandiosity or gravity to them. They either don’t see it themselves, or if they do then they aren’t fussed about engaging with it. “We’re still doing so much ourselves. We feel like a local band in a very high position,” Joel explains. But there are no bands to compare these songs to, the band exists in a space solely unique to them. A graduate degree from University is a lesson in honing your craft, staying authentic to yourself and writing bloody good music. And University got a first in that, I suppose.