Photo Credit: Derek Bremner
Off the back of their shining debut album Anti-Fun Propaganda, Gen and the Degenerates visited Nottingham’s Bodega to spread some danceable doomsday tunes, and naturally, a massive inflatable shark.
Starting with opening track Kids Wanna Dance, the band immediately set the ground rules for the night; the world might be bleak, but we can still dance. The track, just as it does on the album, works as a great tone-setter for what’s to come. The crowd settled in for a night of jubilant queer celebration – one of the band’s mission statements. Thrashing drums in this one got the blood pumping, ready to action.
Following up, the cheeky punk energy continued with Sapphic anthem Girls! – a celebration of women and commentary of all of the things that women are scolded for doing online. On vocals Gen (Genevieve Glynn-Reeves) was magical, commanding the room with a personality a hundred times bigger than the Bodega stage. Spitting out lyrics with a captivating swagger, and with clear unadulterated enjoyment throughout, it was impossible not to be convinced by her performance. The band were incredibly tight for this track, with funky baselines that oozed cool and syncopated moments that elevate the band beyond straight-delivered punk.
This confident persona is showcased in full force on unreleased track Charming, which saw Gen flaunt her perfect imperfections before involving the audience in some well-received crowd participation in the form of a Macarena-esque dance. Before the track begun, Bodega was informed that nobody was ‘allowed to look good doing a silly dance.’ That’s the spirit of a Gen and the Degenerates gig – pure carefree whimsy. On the subject of silliness, the entire band also donned sunglasses for their irony-filled track Post-Cool, which further goes on to fight for authenticity and difference, as an attack on cringe culture.
Towards the end of the set, Gen introduced a song dedicated to her aunt Jude who sadly passed away. The ensuing performance was tear-jerking and disgustingly beautiful, as the band paid tribute to Jude in song, depicting a fearlessly unique individual, offering much inspiration for Gen growing up. In just a short amount of time, it felt like the audience had really got to know this woman, with plenty of tears being shed around the room, both on stage and around it. Every single piece of Gen was poured into this one, and the result was powerful.
For a complete hand-brake turn, as various eyeliner stains were rubbed away, Gen and the Degenerates hit Bodega up with another new one: Wahoo. As the name suggests, this short but sweet track was full of fun, fitting the tongue-in-cheek punky brief the band are known for. Increasingly, the band are also becoming known for a certain inflatable shark that they’ve been releasing into the crowd to wreak havoc. Aptly named ‘Top Surgery’, a suggestion from a previous audience member earlier on in the tour, their shark burst onto the scene, surfing along the venue frequently thrashing into bar staff, the sound desk, back onto the stage, into the ceiling… it’s a level of chaos that feels just right for the band, exacerbated by the intimacy of Bodega as a venue. As before with the sunglasses during Post-Cool, it’s fun to see the band use these fun little gimmicks to emphasise that fun-centric flavour that they attack their topics with. At no point do the gimmicks feel cheap though – they’re authentic and genuinely endearing choices that help further the fan-performer relationship in a perfectly silly way.
While the set was a little on the shorter side, it was certainly sweet. As the band grow in popularity, their genuine appreciation for silliness combines wonderfully with their earnest anger at the state of affairs in this country. But what ultimately has and will continue to turn so many people into degenerates, is the smiles that all five band members continue to have plastered on as they face it all. They offer an inclusive environment, both thematically and literally with their participatory performance aspects. 8/10
Written By: Izzy Morris
