Left of the Dial 2025 Report.

By lloydbolton52 on October 28, 2025

Ireland and Vancouver bands shine at the rainy Rotterdam weekender celebrating the best of emerging indie acts.

PISS by Lisa Ooijevaar | Words: Elvis Thirlwell

There is so much going on at Left Of The Dial. It's like sitting a very very fun exam: You can be prepared all you like for any of the topics but you can never quite know what's going to come up. There's 25 venues, all spread out across the heart of Rotterdam. There's over 150 artists on the bill each playing multiple sets across the weekend. There's also a deliciously silly range of 'extra-curricular' activities like 'hungover sing-a-longs' or indoor mid-afternoon 'pool parties'. The result of this is that Left of The Dial sells out months in advance, and is steadily growing its reputation as one of the most welcoming and on-the-pulse showcase festivals around. It stands out as a festival that prioritizes the experience of artists and audiences, and which acts as a hotspot for some of the most hotly-tipped alternative artists from the UK, Ireland, Northern Europe, North America and beyond.

Like I said, there's a lot going on. Chats with fellow festivalgoers soon reveal that everyone's experience is unique, rich with unexpected discoveries and new names. Like, we didn't plan to see Irish quartet Bleech 9:3. We were just sheltering from Storm Benjamin nearby at an eetcafe with some frites, at the right place and the right time. Arriving with a fair chunk of your bog-standard 'buzz', and adopting the gaudy nu-metal drip of Romance-era Fontaines (the backwards cap is a bold statement), we arrive just in time to see them blast out new single 'Ceiling'. And what a writhing, charging warhorse of blitzing indie-grunge it is too, setting itself in the current wave of Wunderhorse-inspired heart-on-sleeve rock bands steadily filtering through from the capital in recent months.

Above and below: Bleech 9:3 by Marcel van Leeuwen

In fact, it's a weekend with no shortage of innovation from the Emerald Isle. The sheer amount of Irish bands on this line-up shows that the country's current indie boom is in full swing. Drawing on its rich folk tradition with 19th century trad tunes, haunting Pogues covers and fiery originals, Madra Salach are brooding and momentous. Switching from dark, ponderous drones to triumphant drum-battering surges, their set, put in crude terms, resembles the vocal passions of Fontaines D.C, but if it was reimagined by university history lecturers and archivists. Irish folk melodies were also felt during Pebbledash's set at 160k Ballroom. Singer Asha Egan McCutcheon's pristine vocals, clear as water, glide above sumptuous, yet rough-edged dream-pop – it's a music that offers a soothing wave of crystalline comfort to round-off our Saturday night. Drawing from a different tradition entirely – the 'post-hardcore' tradition, shall we say – Kissing On Camera earlier that same day were more of a jolting wake-up alarm. Servicing their crunching emo with playful indie colours, rather than channeling some of the genre's more worldly existential preoccupations, their lyrics speak rather to the painful mundanity of bad days, or 'the best part of the week'. A meme-y Bon Jovi shirt and the introduction of one song as "'Angels' by Robbie Williams" only adds to the their charm.

PISS by Lisa Ooijevaar

Across the Atlantic, another area of seeming musical abundance is the city of Vancouver. Without a doubt, the band on everyone's lips across the weekend, and the festival's biggest hit, are PISS. People were saying their first show on Thursday was the best thing they'd seen in years. Everyone said 'years'. Persuaded to see it for myself at their second show at Rotown, they absolutely lived up to a hype I'd only discovered the day before. Sensitively introducing themselves with a trigger warning, they deliver a captivating display of performance art, an uncompromising psychological horror about the traumas of sexual violence as told via screaming hardcore and the wandering intensities of Midwest Emo. This is music with purpose. Music that means a hell of a fucking lot, is unforgettable, and has the power to impact lives. Also from Vancouver, another weekend highlight are Computer. Touring the recently released debut album 'Station On The Hill' this is post-punk at its thunderous best. Resembling the angular sprawls of Pottery or the barks of YHWH Nailgun, there's masterful leftfield turns of ambient, jazzy interludes and post-rock expansion too. This is a band you must get to know.

Bands, man. Bands. Left of the Dial is a festival for people who love bands – and British bands are always a staple here at a festival which often represents a first European show. And it's also the place where they gather in appreciation at the warmth of hospitality offered to them by the organizers. There's a generous, kind provision of accommodation, food, and drink for all the performers here, which, more than once, begs the question of why it isn't like this back home.

Manchester trio YAANG round off their set with some humble, heartfelt words to this effect. Their last show of the weekend at Perron (mere hours after they played on a literal bus) is a fitting send off. Shredding solos and clacking drum machines feature in an eclectic set of punk-rock, electro, New Wave and Trip-hop. The packed crowd is in the palm of their hands, clapping or moshing at their beck and call. From Northampton, thistle.'s grunging garage punk totally rips. A trio with a mesmerising synergy, it's a mean set-up that commands the live arena. And from Brighton, eight-piece big long sun are a fine thing to behold beneath the lofty vaults of the Arminius church. The setting makes sense too, as their songs of funky, psychedelic-rock carnival are littered with religious imagery. Like when the lyric "Listen to the Lord and you will Know" is yelped over and over again to the congregation by a 5-voice harmony. Like all bands of this size there's plenty of vibes to soak in – the ripping bass lines, the ring of the triangle, guitar players wrestling with each other during the freak-outs. And also, from London, Silver Gore's goodie bag of pristine pop is as polished as anything we see this weekend; their leopard print shirts and gilets as striking as their melodies.

big long sun by Marcel van Leeuwen

The solitude of the solo singer/songwriter is another of the weekend's prevailing fixtures; moments of calm reassurance for those more fragile, 'sore-headed' sections of the weekend. Maddie Ashman suits the opulence of the Paradijskerk church: as we take our pews we're met with a contemporary take on Latin choral song. In a set which also preaches the virtues of microtones and drops fat breakbeats – Jockstrap style – it's her crafty use of backing track that's just so absorbing. As she flits between vocals, cello, keyboard and sampler with angelic grace, we can't tell which sounds are coming from where. Everything sounds so perfect, so balanced, so beautiful. "Beautiful" is the word too for Ninush's set at that same venue. Her first ever festival appearance is rapturously received; the audience quite literally bang the pews in appreciation. And fair enough. When the ensemble of violin, flutes, and the guitar rhyme as one, it's genuinely heart-melting. Coming all the way from L.A, Prewn's solo set is darker, moodier, studded with grit. The jaggedness of her naked electric guitar, along with the guttural growl in her vocal, brings a fresh sense of ghostliness to the songs from her excellent new album 'System'.

And if the mood called for heavier, clubland, boogie-inducing seediness, Left Of The Dial has that covered too. I try to sell the high-octane mania of Manchester duo SILVERWINGKILLER to someone, and all I've got is, "It's like The Prodigy, except sometimes it's in Chinese". Their set at Worm is outstanding. We're stuck at the back, but everyone at the back is 'getting down' to the electric breakbeat drums and/or swamping electro-grooves. Stateside artist 3L3D3P (pronounced – 'El-Dee-Pee') offers drum and bass cuts that are glitchy, loud, experimental and relentless in a similarly hyperactive mode. Maybe there's something demonic there in the abrasive textures, maybe it's the literal vampire-themed club next door still fresh in my mind, but this seems like music that would suit opening nightclub scene in Stephen Norrington's 'Blade'. I'm half expecting ceiling sprinklers to soak me in fresh blood, and for me to pray for Wesley Snipes to save me. Coming from France, Eat-Girls also had me thinking of vampiric forces. Their seething mixture of pounding dark-wave and wailing Xmas Deutschland-esque goth almost had me asking around for the garlic cloves.

A final word must be reserved for Body Horror's rapturous Friday midnight set at the Arminius church. Their gruff, punked-up Fat Dog-inspired blend of post-punk and dance completely rocks this holy space. There's inflatable pine trees bouncing on the crowd, beach balls flying, and this feels only like a festival. We could be in a field somewhere, in a tent somewhere, at the height of summer, our problems far away.