The Cribs sell a vibe on return to Birmingham

The Cribs | Courting
Birmingham O2 Institute 
22nd March 2026 

Wakefield’s elder statesmen, The Cribs, prove that brothers won’t break on triumphant return to Birmingham. Sam Lambeth knows a place you can go where you’ll fall in love so hard that you wish you were dead.

You only have to realise it’s a Sunday night by taking a look at the O2 Institute’s upper balcony. Middle-aged people sporadically fill the seats, but they carry the reserved, stoic looks of people entering a court to begin jury duty. Everyone seems flat and resigned, struggling with the sinking feeling that is normally soundtracked by the theme to Heartbeat. A few heartier attendees buy alcoholic beverages, but it feels like the kind of forced bonhomie you encounter on a Michael McIntyre special.

This inertia is not lost on Courting. Lead singer Sean Murphy-O’Neill does his best to gee the crowd up, cooing over Courting’s prolific output and trying to encourage a wave of “awws” when drummer Sean Thomas breaks a drumstick. The crowd give a bit back, but it has the dormancy that only a Sunday can bring. It’s a shame for the Liverpool band, who pack a punch that would have been more widely appreciated had it been any other night. Murphy-O’Neill has that Cribsian knack of switching between a wonderfully aloof baritone and a throat-shredding howl. When he hits the latter, he often sounds like Modest Mouse’s chief warbler, Isaac Brock. Songs like Popshop! and Famous bound along on frenetic drum work, tasteful synths and the kind of juggernaut guitars The Strokes would doff their Converse to. Their acerbic, wry and sarcastic take on modern life, meanwhile, is firmly rooted in The Cribs’ lore.

In a world where the high street is dying a slow death, AI is taking everyone’s jobs and the skyline is punctured with warfare, The Cribs are a welcome figure of consistency. From their ethos to their sartorial choices, you can rely on the Jarman clan. Guitarist Ryan Jarman still wears leather jackets that look like they’ve been stolen from the kids’ section of Urban Outfitters. Drummer Ross Jarman remains weighed down by the length of his side parting. The only cosmetic difference is bassist Gary Jarman, whose tight moustache and Malibu t-shirt make him look like an off-duty Freddie Mercury. Meanwhile, a fourth member adds additional guitar in the far corner. Whether he is a Jarman, perhaps a second cousin or nephew? – remains to be seen.

What has kept The Cribs consistent is that, unlike many of their ’00s peers, they’ve been hard to pigeonhole. They were always slightly apart from the scene that propelled them, perceived as being too dogmatic and cynical. However, their staunch grassroots commitments and long-forged integrity have not only cemented them as one of Britain’s most quietly successful outfits, but also garnered collaborations with legendary outsiders like Edwyn Collins, Steve Albini and Lee Ranaldo.

It’s all there to see in the music. The furious melding of stunted romanticism and nose-cocking anti-commercialism has gifted The Cribs a unique place in guitar music’s pantheon. Their visceral combination of melody and noise is plain to see in the scuzzy putdowns of Hey Scenesters!, deployed early to caffeinate the fans, and the call-to-arms of I’m Alright Me. Meanwhile, the tortured teenage longing side blooms in the jagged melodies of I’m A Realist and the irresistible riff of Another Number.

Latest album Selling A Vibe, their first in six years, carries a more reflective tone as the brothers begin to embrace their role as elder statesmen. “Ain’t it a shame that tomorrow finally came?” Ryan mourns on the pared-back lament of Looking For the Wrong Guy. The melodic rush of Brothers Won’t Break is a hymn to their fraternal relations. Lead single Summer Seizures sighs that “the good times never last” over contemplative melodies. It’s not all introspective, though, for Never the Same and A Point Too Hard To Make are sparkling, pop-tinged anthems with a mature outlook.

The new songs are well received, but it’s the classics that get the crowd going. We Share the Same Skies has the muscular riffs of 1980s Manchester (perhaps co-writer and former Cribs man Johnny Marr has something to do with that). Golden oldies, The Lights Went Out, and Direction are giddy rushes of youthful brio. Mirror Kissers is another entry in the group’s brand of anti-poseur polemics, delivered with blazes of feedback and throat-shredding verve. Then, of course, there’s Men’s Needs. It’s become a certified indie dancefloor staple, that crisp snare almost a siren before giving way to that undeniably infectious guitar stab. It’s a clean, but not anodyne, rocker that takes The Cribs’ trademark scuffed melodicism and adds a layer of sheen. It’s enough to see many of the punters part ways with their pints, anyhow.

Amid all this indie bluster is a band not afraid to experiment with textures and tempos. City of Bugs is built on atmosphere, changing tack from the kind of stoner croon Thurston Moore would appreciate to an expansive, glistening crescendo. Similarly, Back to the Bolthole is a sludgy slow-burner. The band closes with Be Safe, their much-loved collaboration with Sonic Youth auteur Lee Ranaldo. With the latter’s poetic vignettes blasting out of the speakers, it’s a majestic and cathartic combination of stylish art rock and lung-busting stadium anthem. It’s that amalgamation that has given The Cribs a long-standing currency.

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The Cribs are on Facebook, X and Instagram. You can find Courting on Instagram.

All words by Sam Lambeth. Sam is a journalist and musician. More of his work for Louder Than War is available on his archive. Photos by Paul Reynolds.