There’s nothing like a triple bill of rebellion, power chords, and mosh pits to cut through the tedium of the working week. And Wednesday night’s show at the Exchange absolutely delivered in full. Headlined by Florida outfit Pool Kids, the show arrived buzzing with fresh material from their latest project Easier Said Than Done and early tour energy.
First up were Coventry’s Blush Puppy, who—despite their vehicle breaking down en route to the gig and a last-minute scramble to borrow a pedalboard after forgetting their own—delivered a solid set of Y2K-flavored alt-rock. Flared jeans and impassioned screams felt back in vogue, and the quartet proved that. And despite their young age, they already have both the presence and the catalog to nab attention and fill a room fast.
It’s no surprise they’ve landed on editorial lists as an artist primed to shape the sound of the year ahead. To be fair, they weren’t even listed on the original bill, which makes the showing all the more impressive. The full credit goes to both Bristol and Blush Puppy for turning up and showing out nice and early on a school night.
Sydney Sprague, the Phoenix-born indie rocker, hit the stage next on just her second proper UK show. And honestly, I briefly worried she might outshine the headliner. Her pedalboard kept cutting out at the end of songs, prompting her to smack it back into life to the crowd’s amusement. Meanwhile, she strummed a white Jazzmaster and let bandmate Sébastien Deramat’s guitar lines shimmer in slick, synth-like waves over Chuck Morriss III’s tight bass and synth.
Newer cuts from her 2025’s Peak Experience slid seamlessly into the set, raising the temperature in the room and priming it perfectly for Pool Kids. A very loud (and very pissed) Bristol fan at the front cheered her on throughout, and at one point she half-joked about wanting to stay in the UK, slyly hinting at stateside frustrations. Intimate, sharp, and quietly confident, it was the kind of support slot that wins over a room.
Great as Sprague was, Pool Kids were never in any danger or losing the spotlight. By the end of their set, I received four boots to the shins, was swallowed by three separate pits, and watched lead vocalist Christine Goodwyne crowd-surf overhead. This was all on just the second night of their tour.
Their fans are utterly devoted. A couple at the front went wild, and even played one of the band’s songs at their wedding. One middle-aged ex-scenester climbed onto a corner of the stage and leapt into the pit, instantly losing his reading glasses. By the night’s end, phones and lighters were sacrificed to the sticky floor. Chaos and energy collided in every moment.
Their sound is a thrilling collision of math-rock precision and emo/pop-punk catharsis. Pinch harmonics squeal, intricate time signatures clash with shredding guitar lines, and hooks land like sucker punches. It’s easy to see why Hayley Williams praised them, saying she wished her band Paramore sounded like that early in their career.
Pool Kids’ songs sit somewhere between heartbroken confessionals and pissed-off anthems, delivered by players who know their way around their instruments. Add in crowd participation, spontaneous anti-Trump chants, and a palpable sense of community, and the room turned into something sweaty, communal, and electrifying.
Tracks like “That’s Physics Baby” and “Conscious Uncoupling” went over brilliantly with the crowd. And when Goodwyne asked whether we wanted a song from their first two records, the roars made it clear the favorite was the sophomore self-titled effort. The energy kept building from there. A gig that started out polished progressively transformed into something truly great by the end. Pits, sing-alongs, and a few stray fists only reinforced the feeling that this was a great night. Every band, every component, every detail clicked—polished hardcore with pop hooks, reactive crowd, killer performances.
While the band could easily fill bigger spaces, it was a treat to see them in a venue that matched their vibe perfectly. Many sweaty, happy faces spilled into the cold night when the good times ended, more proof that a night like this doesn’t just entertain; it sticks with you.