The Roundhouse, London, 13th March 2025
Even before The K’s take the stage, there is a distinctive buzz in the air. There always is before a K’s show, but tonight, as they gear up to play the 3000 capacity-Roundhouse, it feels more electric, more expectant – just a year ago, they were playing venues half the size. Since then, the Earlestown-based band have built up a devoted fanbase: a motley crew of people old and young, drawn together by the raw magnetism of one of the UK’s most exciting up-and-coming bands.
A euphoric roar erupts the second the band stride on stage, bathed in a wash of magenta light, as they launch into the newly released ‘Gravestone’. Despite the rapturous welcome, the crowd takes a few songs to truly come alive. ‘Icarus’, with its cinematic string arrangement, provides an early moment of reflection. While newcomers watch in awe, longtime fans glance around, stunned by the scale of the venue. It’s a quiet reminder of how far the band have come.
Between songs, they oscillate between disbelief and elation, clearly just as overwhelmed as their audience.
When ‘Chancer’ kicks in, something clicks, and chaos breaks out. Mosh pits erupt, bodies surge, and wild, ceaseless, euphoric jumping begins. ‘Heart on My Sleeve’ ramps the energy even higher, its rapid-fire tempo a shot of adrenaline. But it’s the follow-up, the heartbreakingly honest ‘Hoping Maybe’, that hushes the crowd.
From there, the band are in full control. Between songs, they oscillate between disbelief and elation, clearly just as overwhelmed as their audience. The moment feels even more poignant because many of the songs in tonight’s set (‘Glass Towns’, ‘Circles’, ‘Picture’, and so on) are the same ones they were playing years ago in sweatbox venues to a tenth of the crowd. For the same reason, ‘Throw It All Away’, a heartfelt track about the dark side of fame, is all the more touching.
When they play ‘Aurora’, they introduce it by saying, “this one’s a really old one, so you might not know it”. But much to the band’s surprise, the crowd do, and not only do they know it, but they sing it back word for word.
People climb on shoulders, arms are flailing, and shoes slip and slide on the beer-drenched floor.
The bigger venue also means a bigger production. Light-up rods surround the stage, glowing and shifting through brilliant hues of orange, blue, and pink, each colour synched to the tempo of the music.
By the time the band reach the wistful ‘Helen, Oh I’, the now-familiar chants for ‘Dacton and Wanderella’ have begun, echoing in each rare moment of silence. While it may not be the band’s favourite, it is certainly the fans’, so much so that cries of “Dacton! Dacton! Dacton!” have become staples at K’s shows. But the band don’t indulge the crowd immediately, instead charging into ‘Sarajevo’, a fan favourite in its own right, sparking another frenzy of movement. People climb on shoulders, arms are flailing, and shoes slip and slide on the beer-drenched floor.
As a parting gift, they finally deliver ‘Dacton’, to deafening cheers. A brilliantly written tragic track about a doomed young couple, it proves that this band can both put on a show for the ages, but also write a first-rate song.
It’s a fun evening, but also an emotional one. Watching The K’s step so confidently into this next chapter without forgetting the songs or the fans that got them here feels like witnessing something truly special.
Words and image: Sophie Flint Vázquez
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