The final night in a venue is sad, usually rowdy for the sake of it, but tonight it was the band’s domain, and that band was Cabbage.

The Magnet bids farewell, bon voyage, fucking off to become a laughable comedy venue. It’s a sad day for the local music scene when a decent venue ditches music for a more valuable entity, making people laugh.

It’s like one big joke that nobody is in on, and our local musical connoisseurs EVOL have been given the last night and unexpectedly, they’ve booked the best farewell band a venue could have, Cabbage.

Real Life Entertainment are tonight’s openers and are playing to a late room like they’re in-front of a full one.

They’re strange, not straightforward and likable, which gladly is what where looking for. “Skeleton Party“, “Stone Me” and “River Styx” definitely make us want to hear more.

The Rhythm Method hit up next and change the room from drifting, waiting Cabbage fans to something more life-like.

The brilliant and hilarious duo definitely divided the room, and they should’ve. Their pop, generally funny, tunes are strange and wonderful, and somewhat unexplainable.

It’s like a fun-loving, danceable pop version of Sleaford Mods, yet they both have talent. The piano-man Rowan keeps the backbone and choruses alive while his partner in crime Joey drops charming, comical lines over it. It’s a simple combo that leads to absolute brilliance.

“Something For The Weekend“, “Local Girl“, “Party Politics” are are some of their songs that should be all over BBC Radio 1 with their golden, grin-inducing sounds, but we how silly can we be, Radio 1 only plays shit.

“We’re one of those political bands, we’re pushing an agenda and we don’t know what it is” Joey states as their intro to The Rhythm Method, I’d say the agenda is a good-time.

The great part of tonight, even after a Kasabian tour landed the Cabbage lads in deep trouble for some, now proven false, sexual misconduct allegations, the audience in the room is mostly female.

…and yes, that’s amazing, against the contrary Pretty Green model, it’s not just the lads who want to get against the grain and throw themselves about. It’s not the awful Safe Gigs For Women runners getting it all sorted, it’s the actual person themselves, there’s an obvious love and kinship between the youngsters below the midlife crisis age limit and Cabbage.

After a calm, beer-downing, walk through the crowd, Cabbage are ready to begin and it’s already mental. The crowd are prepared, all jumping with loathing joy.

For those not in the “know”, Cabbage are one of, if not the, best political bands in the country. Not two ticked-off stepdads with laptops and a Carlsberg, Cabbage are an infectious five-piece outfit full of well-crafted, well-aimed political rock on the NHS level.

Any geezer who says that “kids aren’t angry” anymore have to take a deep breath and dive right in because if Cabbage‘s audience has anything to say, it’s loud, clear and downright pissed off.

The band tonight played at their best, with their setlist jolting between their well beloved satarical archetypal tunes and songs from their upcoming Skeleton Key sophomore album.

While the early set was balanced on the blinding Cabbage debut, “Fickle“, “Indispensable Pencil” and of course the still brilliant “Terrorist Synthesizer“, it was the later half that showed the band’s anticipated upcoming work.

The band’s newest material, such as “Arms of Pleonexia“, “Obligatiory Castration“, “Preach to the Converted” and “Molotov Alcopop“, all shine as bright as their best-known songs, and their rabid fanbase will surely know every word next time.

The finale trickles down, with the band saying goodbye to The Magnet with the crowd extending boos at its closure, the final numbers keep the crowd well alive and gladly-derranged, “Tell Me Lies About Manchester” creates a mass sing-a-along about our next door neighbours, while the excellent “Uber Capitalist Death Tirade” incites a stage invasion that even bewilders the security and a mass “mosh-pit” of sorts with the crowd selflessly and joyfully throwing themselves around.

It’s destructive, car-crash, politcially-charged, always right, angry fun, and the sort of entertainment Cabbage provide better than anybody.

Words by Jack Cinnamond, photography by Jess Sharpe.