There’s something slightly absurd about watching a lad from North Shields belt out working-class anthems to a crowd of Montrealers in the suburbs of Laval, but that’s exactly what made Sam Fender‘s stop at Place Bell work so brilliantly. The British songwriter has been making a convincing case for himself as one of rock’s most vital voices, and on this Tuesday evening, he delivered a performance that justified every ounce of the hype.
But first, Young Jesus. The Chicago outfit, led by John Rossiter, opened with their brand of Midwest emo and post-rock. Rossiter is undeniably a great showman, working the stage with genuine intensity and commitment. The band was perfectly competent, hitting all their marks with precision. But there was a certain familiarity to it all, like they’d studied the indie rock playbook without adding much of their own handwriting to the margins. Even the appearance of Montreal’s own Ada Lea for a single song couldn’t quite elevate things beyond serviceable. They warmed up the crowd well enough, which is really all you can ask from an opening act.
Then Fender arrived, and the temperature in the room changed immediately.
Opening with “Angel in Lothian,” Sam and his seven-piece ensemble hit their stride within seconds. That song, with its gut-punch final verse about hoping not to mess up your hypothetical children, has always been a stunner on record. Live, with Fender‘s Geordie accent cutting through the mix, it landed with considerably more force.
What strikes you first about Fender is how little he resembles the typical modern rock frontman. There’s no affected cool, no carefully cultivated mystique. He’s got the stage presence of someone who’d be just as comfortable down the pub, telling stories over a pint. “It feels quite formal tonight,” he observed early in the set, noting the respectful quiet of the crowd. Give it time, Sam.
The band (guitarist Dean Thompson, bassist Tom Ungerer, Joe Atkinson on keys and guitar, drummer Drew Michael, Johnny “Blue Hat” Davis on sax, Mark Webb on trumpet, and Brooke Bentham adding guitar, keys, and backing vocals) was remarkably tight for such a large lineup. Rock bands don’t typically tour with a full horn section, but Fender makes it work, adding muscle and colour where other acts might just turn up the distortion.
There’s been much made of Fender‘s Springsteen influences, and sure, they’re there. But he’s carved out his own territory, less New Jersey boardwalk, more Newcastle quayside. His songs deal with class, masculinity, and mental health with a directness that would feel preachy in lesser hands. Instead, they land with the force of someone speaking uncomfortable truths after one too many.
Mid-set, Fender invited a fan named Roxanne onstage to play acoustic guitar during “The Borders.” These crowd-participation moments can go sideways quickly, but Roxanne acquitted herself well, and the gesture spoke to Fender‘s genuine connection with his audience. It would have been nice to see him interact with her more while she was up there, though, but she did get a hug for her efforts.
“Crumbling Empire” showcased Fender‘s guitar work, which often gets overlooked in discussions of his songwriting. His solos don’t showboat; they serve the song, building tension and release with admirable restraint. He’s got technical chops to spare, but he’s smart enough to know when to deploy them.
“People Watching,” the title track from his recent album, triggered a mass singalong. The song’s got that widescreen 1980s production that shouldn’t work in 2025 but somehow does, possibly because Fender commits to it so completely. There’s no winking irony here, no hedging of bets. He means every synth flourish.
He also previewed “Talk to You,” a track slated for the deluxe edition of People Watching. New songs in setlists can be dicey (audiences came to hear what they know), but this one sounded fantastic and the crowd received it warmly. That’s the mark of an artist who’s earned genuine trust rather than just momentary attention.
The real surprise came with “Howdon Aldi Death Queue,” which Fender cheerfully described as “the stupidest song I ever wrote.” Fair enough. It’s a folk-punk screed about supermarket shopping during the pandemic. But what could have been a throwaway joke instead turned into a genuine moment of release, the crowd gleefully thrashing about as Fender and company cranked out distorted guitars and blaring horns.
“Seventeen Going Under” closed the main set, and here’s where things got genuinely moving. The song captures something about class and struggle and growing up that resonates far beyond its specific Geordie setting. As Fender finished, the crowd continued singing the refrain, their voices carrying through the venue until he returned to the stage. You can’t manufacture that kind of response.
The encore opened with “The Dying Light” before Fender took a request for “Something Heavy,” an older track he hadn’t planned to play. His willingness to deviate from the script paid off. The unrehearsed performance had a raw energy that polished versions sometimes lack. They closed with “Hypersonic Missiles,” the title track from his debut album, and by then the respectful calm Fender had noted earlier had long since evaporated.
This was my second time seeing Fender (the first was at Osheaga in 2019) and the improvement was notable. He’s grown into his role, more confident without becoming cocky, more polished without losing the edge that makes his songs connect.
Fender writes songs about class, mental health, and everyday struggle, then delivers them with enough conviction to make them stick. He’s not reinventing anything. He’s just doing rock music extremely well, which turns out to be plenty.
Review & photos – Steve Gerrard
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