The last time I reviewed The Royston Club I made a bold statement. After a sell-out gig at the Victoria Warehouse I said, “That’s it, we’ll never see them play in Wrexham again until the Racecourse hosts them in a few years’ time.” Two days later, an “Everywhere, All at Once” festival announcement was released. The Royston Club were coming home to the venue I’d seen them play the most. So much for my bold prediction.
The boys were coming home.
The gig was a National Lottery-funded event for the Music Venue Trust. It’s helping venues like the hosts, The Rockin’ Chair, which is a vital cog in the music scene. We lose places like this and we lose bands like The Royston Club. The tickets were the hottest tickets in town. They sold out in minutes. It’s no surprise. These local lads are the real deal now.
The crowd were warmed up by Jasper Hodges. You could tell the singer-songwriter was loving an expectant crowd, all in early to claim their own coveted space. Everyone joined in. The atmosphere was building.
It was then time. The lights went out and everyone looked towards the stage door to the left. It swung open and the four lads appeared. From the first bars of Shivers to the final solo ending of Cariad, where it’s just Tom and his guitar, every single word of every single song is sung by every single attendee.
Everyone was at one.
All the favourites were on the setlist. Banger after banger. You could feel the electricity in the air. You could see Ben, Dave, Sam and Tom were enjoying themselves so much. There were 15 songs on the original list, but a special gig needs something special for the lucky few who managed to get tickets.
One song has been missing from the setlist that Royston fans have missed. They were just about to start Cariad when they all looked at each other. Someone in the crowd kept shouting, “Shawshank!” and got their own way.
It went down a storm.
As I walked away afterwards, I couldn’t help but think back to what I’d written after Manchester. I thought Wrexham had become too small for them. I was wrong.
The Royston Club may now be filling bigger venues and playing to thousands, but they haven’t forgotten where they came from. They came home to one of the town’s most important grassroots venues, gave everyone lucky enough to get a ticket a night to remember, and reminded us why places like The Rockin’ Chair matter so much.
If we want the next Royston Club, we have to protect the venues where journeys like this begin.