The Enemy

I’ll be honest – I went into this one completely blind. I’d never really listened to The Enemy, but when old mates Shaun Real (Realo), Ian Brown (Browny), and Ian McKinnon (Ninky) suggested a night out, I wasn’t going to say no. Any excuse to get together again.

The day started the way all good ones do – with a can of Realo’s beer on the train (for once, actually in date) and a lot of laughter. From there, it turned into a mini pub crawl via Moorgate and a great game of higher/lower before heading north to Camden. It’s one of my favourite parts of London – loud, grubby, alive, and full of character. Perfect territory for a band like this.

It was a standing-only gig, but me and Browny struck gold – we found two seats and a table tucked right by the bar, with a perfect eye line to the stage. From there, we could soak up the atmosphere without getting elbowed by the mosh pit or stood behind the tallest man in the world.

Inside the Electric Ballroom, the crowd was already buzzing – plenty of nostalgic faces reliving their youth to the sound of guitars and attitude. I might not have known the songs, but the energy was infectious. From opener “Aggro” through to the big anthems like “Away From Here” and “We’ll Live and Die in These Towns”, the band had the place jumping. Even the encore – capped off with “This Song” and its extended outro – felt like a statement of intent.

Tom Clarke and co. delivered a tight, gritty set – loud, urgent, and honest. It wasn’t polished stadium rock; it was a reminder of how vital small-venue gigs still are. You don’t have to know every lyric to get swept up in it.

The best part, though, wasn’t the music. It was being there with old friends, beer in hand, grinning like idiots and remembering who we used to be. A proper night out, full of noise, nostalgia, and good company.

And then came the near-death experience.
Going through the barrier at the Tube station afterwards, I dropped my bank card. As I bent down to pick it up, Ninky – in his infinite wisdom – slid it away with his foot. The barriers promptly closed. Around my neck. As the breath was slowly being squeezed out of me, Ninky finally decided to release them. Realo claims it was all alcohol-related. He should know – his last visit to the capital ended with an eight-hour hospital stay after attempting to moonwalk backwards down a 500-foot escalator, finishing up sprawled across the concourse covered in blood.

And I’m the one who needs to grow up?