We already loved The Boojums’ debut. Having missed their April show at Neue Zukunft, we weren’t about to miss them again. Getting Wine Lips on the same bill? Even better.
The Nova Scotian trio look like people you’d happily lose an evening with around a Späti table. Armed with his “Streetmachine” guitar, elastic facial expressions and a complete willingness to look ridiculous, Willie Stratton is impossible to ignore. At one point, his foot went higher than his head while he was still soloing. Karate black belt? Can’t confirm. Wouldn’t question it either.
Sara Johnston provided the cooler counterweight: relaxed, assured, absolutely commanding her eight-string bass. Neither of us had seen one played live before. There was something of Khruangbin’s Laura Lee in that effortless presence, although the noise coming out was very much The Boojums.
Reading up on the band, we kept finding the same descriptions: “raw”, “lo-fi”, “imperfect”. Fuck that. Those words barely do justice to what we heard at Lido. They sound like musicians having a genuinely excellent time together, and they’re good enough to bring everyone else into it. The record was all there, recognisable and intact, with the goofy rock swagger turned up. It reminded us of seeing Durry at Cassiopeia: that same pleasure in watching a band whose enjoyment reaches well beyond the stage.
For the first couple of songs, there was plenty of space. Then the sofas and smoking breaks started losing customers. These openers were packing heat.

Through the camera, their chemistry was just as obvious. Finding out afterwards that Willie and Sara are married made sense, but the feeling extended to the whole trio, and eventually the room. You wanted another song. You wanted to carry on afterwards, lose an evening around a Späti table with them and hear their stories.
Corny as it sounds, The Boojums made us feel part of their group of friends. We went in already liking their music. We came out with a few more reasons to stick together, baby.


















All images were taken by Pablo Iriarte with the permission of the artist and venue and are subject to copyright.
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