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Simon Lunt enjoys a whirlwind day of musical excellence at one of Teesside’s stand-out events
Image: Gurriers by Tracy Hyman
Stockton Calling is a chaotic, beautiful pilgrimage. In 2026, the cold Teesside air was thick with the scent of chips and the electric hum of amps pushed to their absolute limit. Here is how the noise unfolded…
The Noise Club opened ARC 2. Their frontman’s proud Paisley accent was thick enough to clog a drain as he confidently led a six-piece that nearly collapsed before they even started. Having forgotten their bass guitar, they sourced a replacement at the final second. Their sound was a jagged, refreshing departure from the usual Arctic Monkeys clones; instead, we were treated to the frantic, digital-hardcore energy of Atari Teenage Riot. Their Give It One Last Try lyrics felt less like a song and more like a desperate, brilliant manifesto.
Hopping over to the main ARC stage, End Credits brought the art school to the mosh pit. The frontman’s guitar looked like a Jackson Pollock painting had lost an argument with a Marshall stack. For a four-piece acknowledging their biggest stage yet, they showed zero nerves and maximum charisma. They delivered a psych rock and funk fusion that occasionally veered into the stadium-sized pomposity of Muse or Metallica. By the time the line “I’ve got blisters on my fingers” rang out, it was clear they’d earned every single one of them. Take a bow.
Moss were turning The Green Room into a den of iniquity. This two-piece delivered politically charged trip-hop that made the walls sweat. The highlight of the set wasn’t just the brooding, rhythmic beats, but the singer tossing flowers into the audience while dryly announcing they represented “the fucks I don’t give.” It was the ultimate Stockton moment, a blend of aesthetic beauty and raw, Northern defiance.
Returning to ARC 2 we encountered Tanzana. This is what ‘sonic witchcraft’ looks like. The Scottish five-piece navigated the light and dark dynamics of Björk, but with the raw, jagged power of Sleater Kinney or Goat Girl. The lead guitarist is a genuine wizard of complex transitions and classic rock flourishes. Amidst the gothic, atmospheric heavy lifting, the singer asked the room, “Have I lost my voice or can I just not hear it?” Trust us, when you’re that powerful, everyone in a three-mile radius can hear you.
The Georgian Theatre offered a brief, melodic respite with Smith & Liddle. They provided a smooth, highly professional blend of Hall & Oates soul and War On Drugs Americana. While it was undeniably middle of the road compared to the afternoon’s earlier visceral assaults, their pleasant harmonies were exactly what the doctor ordered to keep the momentum going.
Next up: The Social Room hosted Nottingham’s Vona Vella. After a meticulously long tune-up that tested the crowd’s patience, they finally unleashed a layered, loud wall of sound. It was floaty, shoegaze bliss with distinct Cardigans vibes, ethereal enough to make you drift, but with enough volume to rattle your teeth.
As the sun set, Gene Gallagher took to the ARC stage with Villanelle. Sporting a Man City-coloured guitar and a surname that carries heavy baggage, Gallagher proved he’s more than a pedigree. The band truly found their stride during the grungier, heavier numbers, proving they have the grit to back up the inevitable hype.
However, the day belonged to Gurriers at The Georgian. Fresh off a hit American tour, they arrived on Teesside like a category-five hurricane. I’d suggest this live experience is the most exciting and charged since Idles first broke. If you only see one band live this year, make it Gurriers. They were the definitive, deafening roar of Stockton Calling 2026.
