Camden on a midweek night is rarely subtle, but at The Black Heart this evening it felt like something was properly kicking off again.

First up, London’s self-styled loudest Rock’n’Roll contenders, The Heat Inc., arrive with the kind of confidence that suggests they’ve already outgrown the room. Helped by lighting that does them justice, the band lock straight into a groove built on the twin-guitar attack of Marco Simoncelli and Fabio Staffieri. It’s all very Motorik cool meets Indie Sleaze revival; think Black Rebel Motorcycle Club stripped of the haze, with flashes of The Jesus and the Mary Chain if they swapped feedback for full-throttle clarity.

Tracks from their debut ‘Asleep at the Ejector Seat’ hit like they’ve been road-tested for years. ‘Draw Blood for Proof’ is still a boot-stomping standout, while ‘Little Knuckle Charlie’ struts with the same cocky urgency that runs through the record. Frontman Jon Dodd’s low baritone cuts through the guitars with authority,
grounding the chaos rather than getting lost in it. There’s even a sense of occasion as they roll out ‘True Romance’, due for release on Thursday 30th April, which lands like a future setlist staple rather than a tentative preview.

By the time they tear into ‘98’ and close on ‘Are You Incorporated?’, the room feels fully converted. No gimmicks, no indulgence; just sharp, efficient, high-volume Rock’n’Roll.

Then comes Burned As Witches, a left-turn proposition led by Rick McMurray of Ash, here swapping the drum stool for lead guitar, with his brother on drums. Earlier spotted casually manning the merch desk, McMurray now reappears under a wash of deep crimson light, Amity Island cap in place, and the tone shifts immediately.

Where The Heat Inc. are tight and strutting, Burned As Witches feel looser and more unpredictable than the polished punch typically associated with Ash. There’s a Stoner-Rock drag to ‘Scapegoat’ and ‘It Comes Before The Fall’, but it’s cut through with a Pop instinct that stops things collapsing into Sludge. ‘Truth Comes Crawlin’’ and ‘Pay The Ferry’ grind forward with intent, while ‘Hold Your Nerve’ and ‘To The Sky’ hint at something more expansive beneath the grit.

It’s darker, less polished than anything associated with Ash, but that’s the point. Under blood-red lighting and surrounded by shadow, Burned As Witches lean into the edges rather than smoothing them out.

No encore needed, just noise, sweat, and a set that leaves its mark long after the amps cut out.

Review and photos: Ivan De Mello