By Eve Davies, Music Deputy-Editor
The September air had started to bite, but my friend and I clutched our tinned mojitos like it was still July, sitting on the pavement outside Trinity Centre and taking what felt like the last illicit sip of summer.
I’d never been to Gotobeat before. No expectations, no plan. That became the story of the night: one surprise after another.
Inside, the church felt rebuilt for noise. Heavy curtains hid the stained glass. No pews, just bare floor, heat and sound. Bass leaked through the walls and made the doors tremble.
The first surprise was the size of the audience. Trinity wasn’t full, though this is a brand-new festival finding its feet. At first, the space felt strange in a room that usually swallows you whole. Then the intimacy turned into an advantage: easy sightlines, quick bar runs, every grin visible, every cheer audible.
Tlya X An made that switch happen fast, owning the stage with a charming cockiness reminiscent of Charli xcx. Alt-pop with trap drums and glossy synths, a steel-spined stage presence, and the kind of mic control that bends a room to attention.
‘Daddy’ was the standout, its audacious hook ‘Daddy give me money’ set against the perfectly modern anxiety of ‘Scrolling on my phone just to give myself anxiety’. Dark-pop, sharp corners, zero filler.
Hana Lili followed and changed the temperature again. Baggy fit, bleached bob, easy comic timing.
The Welsh accent landed first — I’m Welsh too, so yes, I felt seen — and she leaned into it, joking that her mam told her to spell out her name so people could actually find her on socials.
Sonically, she covered ground: clean, chiming guitars, precise drums, vocal lines that sat bright in the mix. ‘Iconic’ bit hardest, a sleek indie-pop cut that pulled in rock fans, d’n’b heads waiting on the headliner, and the indie kids down the middle.
It tracks that she’s opened for Coldplay at the Principality Stadium; here she kept the scale but lost the polish, in the best way. After her set she slipped into the audience, getting stopped every few steps. The praise didn’t feel performative. It felt earned.
Post-tequila chat at the bar and we were back for Arxx. Indie rock with a pop edge, a few electronic touches for bite.
‘Crying in the Carwash’ turned into an instant sing-back; by the second chorus half the room had the words. ‘Good Boy’ swaggered and stuck.
Both members are openly queer, which sat plainly and proudly in the performance; their shirts read ‘queer love is sacred’ and ‘trans lives are sacred’.
What really set them apart, though, was the humour. Hanni and Clara bounced off each other like a practiced double act, dropping a killer line about ‘queers sweating in a church’ that broke the heat without breaking the momentum.
Karen Dió raised the stakes. Hailing from Brazil, she delivered riot grrrl ferocity with down-stroked guitars and a voice that cut through everything. You can see why she’s supported Limp Bizkit: presence for days, but she still played with basement-show grit.
‘Buy My Merch’ was a perfect flash — short, loud, funny — while ‘Sick Ride’ and the new single ‘Cut Your Hair’ were the kind of head-shakers that loosen your jaw.
The curveball was a cover of Chappell Roan’s ‘Casual’. I turned to my friend, a long-standing Chappell sceptic, ready for the eye-roll. Karen sold it. She dragged the heartbreak right to the surface and made the room feel it.
By the end of her set I wasn’t just impressed, I was converted.
Then came my personal grail: Fickle Friends. I’ve loved them since my early teens and had somehow never caught them live. Seeing them in my uni city felt overdue.
From the jump the vocals were locked, the drums crisp, the mix bright enough to let the synths and guitars sparkle without smearing the top end. ‘Swim’ reminded me exactly why they stick; ‘Say No More’ kept the floor moving.
The real thrill, though, was hearing about the upcoming album, with the release date announced for the first time that night. ‘Happier’, about reconnecting with the reasons to make music at all, landed with clarity and lift.
A couple of the new tracks didn’t spark the same instant sing-along as the older hits, but they showed a band in renewal rather than repetition. I’ll definitely be there if the tour circles back to Bristol.
Sugar top-up secured (a last-minute chocolate grab we absolutely needed), we headed in for Piri & Tommy. If you haven’t heard them on TikTok, you’ve heard them in a club or on the walk home from one.
‘Soft Spot’ and ‘On & On’ took off in 2021 for a reason: pop instinct with drum-and-bass propulsion. Their cover of DJ Marky’s ‘It’s the Way’ hit the Bristol sweet spot immediately.
Piri arrived in a silver rave fit, Tommy in a flame shirt, and together they ran the room with charm and precision.
Highlights came quick. Piri asked us to close our eyes and picture a beach before launching into ‘Beachin’’; a beach ball appeared and pinballed across the floor.
Tommy’s guitar breaks gave the BPM assault swing and release rather than pure sprint.
At one point Piri worked silks across the stage — a small visual flourish that made a minimal setup feel bigger. If the silks flirted with gimmick, the crowd didn’t mind; the drops kept landing and the room kept jumping.
They closed with ‘On & On’, then doubled down with the Sammy Virji remix, which turned the place into a rave.
We spilled outside into the cool air and straight to a kebab shop, laughing, out of breath, still wired.
Small festival, big intent. Gotobeat isn’t packing out Trinity yet, but the scale worked in its favour: more space, closer connection, fewer barriers between performer and audience.
We arrived with tinned cocktails and no expectations. We left hoarse, sweaty, and convinced we’d just watched a new Bristol weekender find its voice.
Bethany Banks
Featured Image: shot.by.dot_ on Instagram
What was on your festival lineup this year?
