We Speak Music
Beldon Haigh at Whistle Binkies: A Night of Dystopian Brilliance
On Sunday, November 10, 2024, Falkirk’s finest export, Beldon Haigh, stormed back into Edinburgh’s Whistle Binkies for a performance that felt less like a gig and more like an audacious theatrical statement.
Marking the band’s final show of the year, the night brought their ambitious Dystopia – The Rock Opera full circle following a triumphant run at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. The result? A blistering mix of indie rock, satirical storytelling, and raw showmanship. Fake money and moon bonds rained down from the stage in surreal moments that balanced stinging political commentary with theatrical flair.
The vibe was electric before the first note. Crew members roamed the floor, handing out mini flags emblazoned with the now-iconic Dystopian logo—a cheeky touch that turned the audience into a makeshift nation. GoPro cameras dotted the stage, signaling that something special was about to unfold.
Cue Justin Skelton, Beldon Haigh’s enigmatic frontman, who stepped into the spotlight with a magnetic swagger to greet the crowd as “Citizens of Dystopia.” The band’s Orwellian themes were hard to ignore, serving up scathing social commentary on a world teetering on the brink. Skelton led a musical assault that was equal parts biting and brilliant. Backed by Dru Baker (horns and keyboards), Fiona Lynch (backing vocals), and an expanded live lineup—Willie Logan (guitar), Sean Harkins (drums), and Duggy Coulter (bass)—the band dialed up the drama, slipping into their satirical alter egos: Kim Jong Un, Vladimir Putin, and Donald Trump, respectively. Because why just play music when you can make a political statement that slaps just as hard? It was a surreal, unpredictable mix of biting satire, raw energy, and blistering sound—the kind of gig that reminds you why live music matters.
The set opened with Dumpster Fire, the explosive lead track from World Got So Dumb, a biting anthem that immediately locked the crowd into the band’s dystopian groove. From there, Beldon Haigh crafted a narrative-driven set that blurred the line between concept album and full-blown stage production. A commanding voice punctuated the transitions, addressing the “Dystopian people” like a darkly comedic overlord weaving the show’s Orwellian threads.
Highlights included Soap Machine, where Skelton’s rockstar theatrics meshed perfectly with Lynch’s ethereal harmonies and Baker’s keyboard brilliance. Sean Harkins’ drumming proved to be the driving force behind the evening, adding both technical precision and unpredictable flair. Midway through, World Got So Dumb delivered the night’s quirkiest moment, as Skelton cheekily referenced whales and plankton before the band launched into solos mimicking marine creatures—an absurdist flourish that landed perfectly with the audience.
For all the biting satire, the heart of the show lay in its communal spirit. Tracks like Hermano, with its Latin-tinged rhythms, and Happiness, a euphoric anthem, became rallying cries for unity. These were not just songs; they were shared moments of catharsis, turning the venue into a collective sanctuary.
Beldon Haigh’s sound is big—too big, perhaps, for Whistle Binkies. The band’s theatricality, ambition, and sheer presence suggest they are destined for much larger stages. Watching them perform Dystopia – The Rock Opera felt like witnessing the genesis of something extraordinary—a bold, unapologetic vision that demands attention.
This wasn’t just another gig; it was a thrilling, surreal mix of rock and theatre that turned sharp political commentary into a wild, unforgettable experience. Beldon Haigh aren’t just playing music—they’re building worlds.
We Speak Music
Megan Burke Turns Personal Experience into Pop Catharsis on ‘Not All Men, Apparently’
Megan Burke’s debut EP Not All Men, Apparently arrives with a title designed to provoke conversation, but beneath its pointed framing lies a deeply personal collection of songs rooted in lived experience. The project sees the Irish artist tackling themes of heartbreak, deception and emotional recovery with an unfiltered honesty that has become increasingly rare within contemporary pop.
Produced by Hungarian hitmaker Áron Somody, the EP documents Burke’s journey through a series of difficult relationships, transforming private frustrations into universally relatable songwriting. Rather than presenting neat resolutions, the songs lean into complexity, examining the lingering impact of toxic dynamics while charting a gradual path towards self-awareness. It is this willingness to confront uncomfortable truths that gives the record its emotional weight.
Among the collection’s standout moments is Make Me, the focus track that introduces a welcome sense of levity. Written as a break from the darker material surrounding it, the song captures a more playful side of Burke’s personality, embracing independence and spontaneity without abandoning the candid perspective that defines the wider project. Its inclusion adds balance to a release that might otherwise feel relentlessly introspective.
Burke’s rise has been built largely on her ability to connect directly with audiences, amassing a substantial online following while earning notable milestones including a No.1 iTunes chart position and performances at some of Ireland’s biggest venues. With Not All Men, Apparently, she delivers her most cohesive artistic statement yet, confirming her status as a compelling new voice in Irish pop and a songwriter unafraid to tell difficult stories.
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