Roundhouse, London, November 19 2025
It’s about halfway through tonight’s proceedings – Hot Milk's biggest ever show in London – that the tears start to fall for Han Mee.
Being so overtly vulnerable whilst on stage is something that’s a lot rarer than you might think, especially when the weight of what your band is doing hits all at once. But that’s just the way this band functions. Nothing left unsaid, and no feelings left unexpressed.
It has been a breathless five years and a bit years for the northerners too. By never being satisfied with what they have, always anxious to build the next thing, they have unleashed no less than two full-lengths and three EPs in quick succession, a catalogue that many a group take a lifetime to produce.
Saying all that, it seems that such frenzied discovery, leading them towards their latest statement ‘Corporation P.O.P’, has allowed them to tap into an even deeper connection than they already had with the alternative sphere, meaning that the floor of the legendary Roundhouse is packed in tight.
And if you were looking at such a fantastical sight, you would be welling up too.
First up, though, is Silly Goose, taking its first-ever trip overseas. Their frantically fresh take on nu-metal’s most audacious and punishing aspects goes down a treat with those who came to dance tonight, with new offerings’ Neighbors’ and ‘Traffic’ seeing the first of many pits start to swell. Though it’s in the more chaotic moments, such as the blistering ‘Split’ and pummelling ‘Heart Attack’, that the band really come into their own, with vocalist Jackson Foster losing all inhibitions whilst delivering some real throat-shredders of screams. By the time the intoxicating grooves of ‘Bad Behavior’ call time, it’s clear that these party-starters have earned themselves plenty of new recruits.
Next up is Cassyette, who admits this is only their third show of 2025. Though any cobwebs that may still be lingering are blown off instantly, as her intoxicating take on 90s post-grunge euphoria hits like a freight train. ‘September Rain’ is beautifully raw, ‘Dead Roses’ is gloriously dramatic and ‘Petrichor’ is decadently brash, all bolstered by vocals that rip and tear as much as they soothe and soar. There’s even space for a couple of new unreleased tasters, with the cheeky ‘Oops’ signalling that whatever is coming is even more freewheeling and fantastical than what has already occurred. As a deafening ‘Dear Goth’ sees out this victorious return, whatever is next on the agenda for Cassyette may go a long way to defining her, and that’s a very exciting place to be.
If the energy was already at boiling point, the moment that Hot Milk take the stage is the moment when it overflows. From the pounding intent of ‘Hell Is On The Way’ to the undeniable existentialism of ‘I JUST WANNA KNOW WHAT HAPPENS WHEN I’M DEAD’, tonight is as much an exorcism of emotion for all in the crowd as it is for those on stage. An escape from the bullshit out on the streets and a moment to reflect and restore hope with those who have a vision for a unified today rather than a divided tomorrow.
There’s something about this current iteration of the band – the focus firmly on ferociousness – that strikes a chord like never before, with ’90 Seconds To Midnight’ and ‘The American Machine’ feeling particularly raucous, the latter seeing the pit at its most devastating. And you can see just how at home Han and Jim are within it, too, Han tearing about the stage with devilish intent and Jim shredding like it’s the last thing that he will ever do. They are so at home that they have even remodelled fan favourite ‘Candy Coated Lie$’ into an industrial epic to fit in with the atmosphere, with iron-clad riffs now accommodating those sugary sweet refrains.
But it is in those more vulnerable moments where you are reminded just how much of themselves they have injected into this band. That’s where the waterworks come from, flowing at the start of an emotionally dense ‘BREATHING UNDERWATER’ and sticking around throughout a buoyant ‘BLOODSTREAM’. To conjure your deepest and darkest demons, inject them into your art and then see them connect on such a rampant scale is one thing, but to then not pretend like they still linger in your chest and let your insecurities and fears hang out on such a grand scale is a whole other kettle. It’s just who they are, though, and always have been, and it’s in that openness that they thrive. By the time that ‘Glass Spiders’ rolls around, the power and pride of what it means to share your sorrow is firmly back in their hands.
Rounding things out with a heady ‘Sympathy Symphony’, a chandelier-swinging ‘PARTY ON MY DEATHBED’ and a delirious ‘Chase The Dragon’, this is Hot Milk’s finest hour by a long distance. A unifying, unbridled and audacious display of everything they have learned over the last five years, refined and rallying in equal measure. Though more than anything, it is a signal that they have achieved precisely what they set out to do. And that is to create a space where everyone feels powerful. At a time when minorities continue to be used as scapegoats, expression is brought into question, and the world outside is closer to bursting into flames than ever before, knowing that people see their band as some sort of solace from the savageness is worth its weight in gold.
Hot Milk is for everyone, and that has never felt more apparent than right here and right now.
