Baptism by Fire and Feedback: Soaked at The Bodega Review

23 June 2025 rocknews

There’s nothing like witnessing a band crash headlong into their moment—and that’s exactly what Soaked did at The Bodega. This feral, fresh-faced three-piece punk outfit opened for The Molotovs with a set that felt less like an introduction and more like an explosion.

They launched into an untitled new song—a fiery ode to being in a rock ’n’ roll band. No title yet, but the bite was undeniable: fuzz-drenched riffs, a snarling chorus, and enough energy to rattle pint glasses. From there, their set included I’m Sorry, See Saw, Windmill Hill, Thank You, and a blistering closer in Heatwave—The Jam’s take on the Motown classic, reborn in a hail of punk spit and feedback.

Every track landed with venom and vigour. Brendon spat lyrics into the mic like a man owed royalties in blood, all while wrangling his guitar with the kind of wild control that felt one string snap away from chaos. The rhythm section thrashed with conviction, dragging the crowd into the whirlwind. Between songs, Brendon battled tuning issues—“cheap fucking guitars,” he quipped, shrugging off the struggle with a grin that made it feel like part of the theatre.

Midway through, he paused to lay out some hard-earned wisdom: “I’ve toured all over Europe and the UK,” he told the room. “Know what I’ve got to show for it?” He raised his arm. “This Casio watch. And that was thrown on stage by a fan.” The room erupted. It was part stand-up, part sermon, and all heart.

Then came the one-two punch to close it out. Thank You erupted with feral energy, and during its solo, the crowd lifted Brendon into the air—guitar howling above a sea of hands like a punk-rock altar offering. No gimmicks. No pretense. Just raw, undiluted connection. And then came the swerve: Brendon teased a Jam song to raucous cheers, before launching into Heatwave—delivered with a wink and a wallop. It hit like a riot with rhythm, sealing the night with a grin and a bang.

Soaked aren’t just another buzz-band. They’ve got the wiry hooks of Buzzcocks, the swagger of The Jam, and the kind of crowd connection most bands would sell their pedals for. All they’re missing is the break.