A crowd of roughly 150 people filtered into Exchange Bristol last Wednesday night for a bill that unfolded in two very different ways. Canadian singer-songwriter Dana Gavanski opened the evening with a set that felt like a charming accident you couldn’t look away from.
“Ditzy” is a lazy word, but it applies here, and not unkindly. Gavanski stepped on stage bundled under headwear that almost immediately became her enemy, forcing her to pause and admit she was too hot. What followed was a beautifully sung, piano-led performance that later transitioned to guitar, its direction fluid in the most human way possible. She performed alone. And her voice was tender and disarming, even as the evening conspired against her.
Mid-set, Gavanski recalled the “Canadian Goose” she remembered from a previous visit to Bristol. The audience looked momentarily confused before the culprit revealed itself: a creaky disco ball overhead, emitting goose-like squeaks, long overdue for a dose of WD-40. The noise sent her into fits of laughter. She was so tickled, she had to restart a song—twice. Her eagerness to try unreleased material only added to the chaos. Handwritten lyric sheets were fumbled through, and one song vanished entirely before being sheepishly reintroduced later. The was intimate and unruly, punctuated by moments of stillness and tender songwriting, led by her enchanting voice.
After a brief reset, The Golden Dregs arrived embodying the very definition of a slow burn. A successful live show relies on three things: spontaneity, passion, and professionalism. Gavanski’s set, although skimping on the last of those (in a joyful way, of course), brimmed with spontaneity. Meanwhile, The Golden Dregs leaned heavily into polish.
Led by Benjamin Woods, the band moved swiftly through their opening numbers with an aloof calm. Playing a lot of material from 2025’s Godspeed, they sounded assured and cohesive, but rarely urgent. Woods switched between twangy Americana, fiery fuzzed-out leads, and gentle fingerpicking. His guitar work was quietly impressive throughout. His lyrics remain observational, watching the world drift by rather than screaming about it.
The band’s nonchalant charm translated cleanly from record to stage. Issie Armstrong handled guitar and backing vocals. Mike Clark played guitar. Matt Merriman was on drums. Ted Mair covered piano and bass. Davy Roderick played synthesizer. Even live, there’s a sense of restraint built into the music. It’s as if the songs are intentionally keeping their distance.
At one point, Woods confessed he was off the booze for January. He joked that it had left him feeling a little more anxious. The comment earned sincere laughs and perhaps explained the nervous energy on stage. At some moments during the night, the band’s sound nodded toward the emotional restraint of Future Islands. It also carried the melodic melancholy of The Magnetic Fields—familiar reference points, but filtered through The Golden Dregs’ own unhurried, soft-edged approach.
The true highlight came when Issie Armstrong took over lead vocals on the nocturnal groove, “Weight Of It All.” Her presence shifted the mood just enough to crack the set open.
“Linoleum,” had the second to last slot on the tracklist, finally pulling everyone into sync. Heads bobbed across Exchange. It was a stellar indie track, and a reminder of how effective The Golden Dregs can be when momentum is allowed to build.
The night faltered at times. A little bit more propulsion earlier on could have turned a fine performance into a truly impactful one. Not louder or faster—just bolder, sooner. Still, the show unfolded patiently and enjoyably, the spark there all along, just waiting to ignite. There’s no bad way to spend a Wednesday night, but watching musicians this talented is hard to beat.