A blood-red brawl meets a blinding white knockout. At King Tut’s, Benefits’ visceral protest and Jehnny Beth’s high-stakes “punk pugilism” delivered a masterclass in raw, industrial, and absolutely essential musical aggression.
A barely-lit stage bathed in a permanent, arterial red, the crimson haze mirroring the red mist of Kingsley Hall’s lyrical fury, all about to be unleashed on King Tut’s unsuspecting audience and so Benefits have proved yet again why they are setting themselves up to be the most vital protest band of the decade.
With their 2025 release Constant Noise, their sound evolved and, dare I say it, even mellowed, following more conventional songwriting structures and less like the angry, scorched-earth emergency broadcasts of their debut, Nails. That’s not to say Kingsley’s sociopolitical commentary is any less barbed; he doesn’t just narrate; he hemorrhages words over a dystopian sonic wasteland, now cinematic in scale. I’m happy to report that the all-encompassing intensity of old is still very much present in their live performance.
Given that they themselves could easily have been headliners in this venue, they were rewarded with a near-full house from the off. In a musical landscape where speaking out against the wrongs of the world is too often avoided, Benefits are absolutely essential.
If Benefits provided the raw, bleeding nerves of the evening, Jehnny Beth arrived to provide the eye-watering punch in the guts. As the red haze gave way to a blinding, clinical white light, Beth wasted no time in dismantling the boundary between performer and fan. By the second song, “High Resolution Sadness,” she had already abandoned the stage, propelling herself into the throng to lead a full-throttle mosh pit from the inside. It was a statement of intent; this was going to be a physical confrontation and we were all invited to join in.
Throughout the night, Beth led the room through the entirety of her powerhouse 2025 album You, Heartbreaker You. The sound was razor-sharp and punishingly heavy (in the best way), her leather-clad guitar outriders of the apocalypse throwing classic rock-god shapes under the harsh white glare while Beth stalked the stage like a prize fighter. Flanked by longtime collaborator Johnny Hostile on guitar, alongside a formidable rhythm section of Hughes Rive on bass and Wend¥ Killman on drums. It was a masterclass in confrontational punk pugilism, all air-punches and high impact intensity.
The set was punctuated by two masterfully chosen covers that bridged the gap between her cinematic and industrial influences. A powered up rendition of “In Heaven” (from David Lynch’s Eraserhead) and a heavyweight, floor-shaking version of Björk’s “Army of Me.”
Beth’s command over the Tut’s crowd was mesmeric and, at times, literal. No coincidence that she transformed into a drill instructor during “Push-Ups,” even bringing an audience member on stage for an impromptu set of – well… push-ups – egging them on with gleeful enthusiasm.
By the time the final, feedback-drenched notes of “I See Your Pain” subsided, the room felt like it had gone twelve rounds with an undisputed heavyweight champion. We had.
This wasn’t a victory won on a scorecard or a cautious points decision; it was a clinical, lights-out technical knockout. Ding Dong!
Words and pictures: Calum Mackintosh @ayecandyphotography