Words: Sean Johnson
As I traversed my way through Sheffield General Cemetery, following the faint echo of blaring bass until coming across the pillared park palisade, my immediate thoughts were that this was set to be unlike any Mickey Nomimono gig I’d previously attended.
A sellout show, comprised of anticipated attendees, an aurora of vibrant visualisers and an array of electric rhythms, courtesy of local DJ Chapel Walk, within a room that didn’t look too dissimilar from an exhibition at an art gallery. This was set to be a pumping party, a celebration for the launch of Mickey’s debut album, The Second One’s Always Better, and having attended several of the kitchen-sink realist’s precious gigs, I knew I was in for a spectacle of absurdity.
And that was the agenda for the night: a showcase for the works of Sheffield’s most volatile solo act, Mickey Nomimono. Half-punk, half-DJ and absolutely no band, Mickey Nomimono is an enigma within the sphere of Sheffield acts, a proctor for society’s backwashed underbelly. His music typically features vicious synthesisers, blaring beats, pyromaniac punk vocalisation and an abundance of outlandish onstage antics. All thriller, no filler and on this occasion, a foray into the Mickey Nomimono full-motion picture.
“Half punk, half DJ and absolutely no band” Photo: @jamburrito1
Mickey performed the entire catalogue of his electro-punk-infused discography, the newly released album from start to finish. Initiating the set, at least five pints deep and still fully clothed, he strolled through previously unreleased tracks Layabout and Mulch, before blitzing into DHL, a condemnation against the mundanity of the corporate new millennia.
Immediately from this point onwards, the mosh pits ensued, ensuring that a sea of flinging bodies and projectile pints permeated the entirety of the set. After some staple Mickey antics, a bit of story time and a lot of swearing, Mickey breezed through ‘At the Washi in Disguise’, an ode to braindead nightlife murmurs before incinerating the room with head stomping heater, Mr Relatable.
It’s a beautiful thing with awful connotations
People would be boring if they sought no innovation
Endless tapping away at the boulder of a problem
That is the mundanity of life
Inside a compromise that suits no-one
– ‘At the Washi in Disguise’
At this point, the gig was in full force, a freight train into frenzied revelry, further elated by the gig’s gargantuan background visuals. The backstage was a hypnotising sequence of projected swirls and images of Mickey himself, much of which was produced by frequent collaborator JamBurrito. I can recall a concoction of colourful, shapeshifting swirls, which transpired the pandemonium into a realm of hypnosis. One moment that I was particularly fond of featured an inflated projection of Mickey himself, igniting the irony within the sardonic storyteller’s set.
Photo: @Jamburrito1
So, as the riled-up crowd moshed maniacally and erupted with cheers, Mickey, now shirtless and addled with adrenaline, sought to elevate the vibe with a sequence of heavy hitters. Hot and Cold, an urgent electro-infused synth stomper released earlier this year, before frantically launching into How Does it Taste?. I should mention that I am the backing vocalist featured on this track, a collaboration that we only recapture in a live setting on special occasions. Tonight was the night, albeit to my surprise, resulting in an entirely improvised scramble for the singular microphone, with both of us trying to out-intensify one another. It was mental.
Now it was time for the closers, the two most furious anthems on the setlist, both of which had been unreleased prior to the album launch. The first, a track entitled Drugs Off The Doctor, a medley of vulnerability and binged decadence, presented in the form of manic melody. As if the darkened disarray wasn’t already enough to erupt the room into vocal enormity, the closing track, Son Outside, my personal favourite Mickey Nomimono tune, certainly sealed the deal. This track is an utterly bonkers character analysis of masculinity, a humorous dissection of the male ego, with some of Mickey’s most invasive vocals to date.
“The gig was in full force, a freight train into frenzied revelry, further elated by the gig’s gargantuan background visuals.” Photo: @Jamburrito1
And then it was over. No encores, no long speeches, just a sea of applauds and a quick goodbye from Mickey himself. The night was capped off with another DJ set, this time from Denis Roswell, which featured my favourite visualisers of the night. This was a gig to surely remember and retell, a dazzling demonstration of what the new era of the Sheffield music scene has to offer, from one of its most creative upcoming talents. Not to mention, it was just a mental bit of midweek mania.
You can catch Mickey Nomimono’s next Sheffield again on 2nd December, where he is set to headline Shakespeares.
