It is particularly fitting to see Declan Welsh and the Decadent West perform at home in Glasgow. Their discography understands the city and it serves a purpose beyond acting as a backdrop. Their tracks are about the people in Glasgow, the things that happen to them, the places they leave and return to and the politics that seep into everyday life.
At St Luke’s on Thursday night there was a tangible sense of connection. A quick glance around the packed out church showed a long standing fan base, eager to see the band perform again for the first time since 2023. Stalls from Unite Hospitality and Viva Palestina Scotland were brilliant choices and support slots from Sister Madds and The Sankaras continued the sense of community.
The opening track ‘No Fun’, immediately established the evening’s sound: big guitars, restless energy and a room ready to give everything back.
‘Lull’ followed, still one of the most affecting songs in the band’s catalogue. Its subject matter of depression and despair could hardly be heavier; yet it arrives wrapped in urgency, volume and exhilaration. That contradiction is central to Welsh’s songwriting; the music gives difficult subjects somewhere to move to instead of softening them.
‘Parisian Friends’ turned the room outward again with its deliberately silly lyricism and enormous “oh na na, eh na na” ritual chorus. ‘Mercy’ and ‘How Does Your Love’ kept the momentum high, with the newer line-up of Ciaran Whyte on drums, Cameron Ferguson on guitar and James Harker on bass sounding completely at home within the band’s increasingly expansive live sound.
There was a pause for Welsh to speak on Palestine; he spoke about the sheer number of people gathered together and the potential that comes with collective attention. He questioned how anyone could accept children being caught in violence, speaking about the continued dispossession, bombing, killing and denial of basic needs in Gaza. His point was not that a concert could solve any of it, but that an audience this size has agency.
He spoke, too, about having been in Palestine and East Jerusalem and meeting people face to face: people who grieve, feel and love in exactly the same human ways as everyone else. The speech ended with a reminder that it is the people in the room who can ultimately change things, more than the person on stage. Welsh described himself as privileged to play even a small part in that process. Then the band launched into ‘Different Strokes’.
That transition is a great example of what makes the idea of art with purpose so powerful. The song, written from Welsh’s experience playing an aid gig in Palestine, turns personal experience into testimony. The speech gives context, but the song gives the context an emotional language and the two belong together.
‘Walk a Mile in Gaza’ pushes it a step further. Its closing breakdown, centred on the story of Hind Rajab and the deaths of her family and rescuers, is devastating. When Welsh screams the question about whether she “got what was coming”, the room is left somewhere between anger and grief. There is no comfortable distance between songwriter, subject and audience.
Then comes ‘Impermanency’ which alongside ‘Aw The Time’ is packed with some of Welsh’s finest lyricism, before ‘Nae Parsaran’ transforms attention into collective action. Hearing a room full of people scream “no pasarán” together is powerful precisely because nobody is doing it alone. The song gives the audience language, but the audience gives the language its force. In that moment, music is something physical: voices, bodies, movement and refusal occupying the same space.
The new material proves the band are not relying on nostalgia. ‘Run Down Small Town’ is already being sung back at the band, while ‘This City Used To Be Alive’ suggests a group still fascinated by place, memory and the strange emotional geography of growing up. ‘Inaction’ sends the pits into chaos before Welsh reminds everyone to pick up their pals: a small but important instruction. Even inside the violence and exhilaration of a mosh pit there is responsibility.
The final stretch is increasingly cathartic. ‘New Me and You’ and ‘Talking To Myself’ pull heartbreak and internal conflict into the same space, before ‘Times’ arrives with all the emotional weight it has gathered over the years. Written in memory of Welsh’s late friend Gary Watson from Glasgow band The Lapelles, it is ultimately about holding onto what matters while you have it: friendship, love, music and people. Around it, strangers become inseparable for one brief moment.
‘Absurd’ closes the night in a rush of sweat, noise and bodies, but the lasting feeling is quieter. The point of a Declan Welsh and The Decadent West gig is not simply that everyone leaves having heard the songs. It is that, for a couple of hours, those songs become shared property. Grief, anger, joy and even resistance can be shared.
Glasgow has always known about music’s capacity to build community. Tonight, St Luke’s was proof. The songs did not pretend to fix anything but they brought people together, gave them something to sing and, as Welsh reminded the room, put the future back into the hands of the people standing in it.
