Gig Review: Wheatus — Rescue Rooms, Nottingham

11 December 2025 rocknews

Let’s not kid ourselves: Teenage Dirtbag isn’t just a song. It’s an anthem, a cultural artefact, and possibly one of the greatest singalongs ever recorded. Do you know a single person who doesn’t know every word? Who doesn’t belt out that falsetto even though they’ve got no business going anywhere near it? Exactly. The song transcends genre — rock, hip-hop, pop, alternative, whatever. It belongs to everyone and that why we are all here tonight.

Tonight was one of those dark winter nights where the cold snaps at your heels the moment you step outside, but inside Rescue Rooms? It was a different universe entirely. If I had to sum the whole night up in a single word, it would be joy. Pure, unfiltered, buzzing joy. Every person on that stage — and there were many — looked like they were having the time of their lives. That matters. When a band radiates that kind of energy, the audience doesn’t just watch the show; they become part of it.

Wheatus have always had a curious, affectionate bond with Nottingham. They even call it “Notts” the way the locals do, which is oddly heart-warming. It felt like they were playing to old friends rather than a city on a tour schedule.

And here’s the thing: I can’t tell you exactly what was played beyond the full debut album, because there was no setlist. As I took my place in the photo pit, Brendan was already chatting to the front row, asking them what should open the night. That set the tone — the whole show was driven by on-the-spot calls and audience shouts. It felt spontaneous, alive, a bit chaotic, and better for it.

The stage was a beautiful mess of hardware: two drummers, Philip moving like he’d downed a litre of pure sunshine, not one, not two, but three backing vocalists, plus bass, guitar and keys crammed into every inch of available space. There was barely room to breathe, but somehow they made it work, and made it look effortless.

Philip, though — he stole the night for me. His smile lit up the room like someone had flicked a switch. His movement was infectious, pure “moves like Jagger” energy, and he seemed to play half the instruments in the venue at some point. You couldn’t take your eyes off him.

There were surprises sprinkled throughout, too. Their version of Pat Benatar’s Hit Me With Your Best Shot was a standout — the first time they’d played it on tour. And then finally giving in to the relentless audience requests, out of nowhere, the unmistakable opening of The Darkness’ Growing On Me and yes the crowd went wild for it.

Before the main event, we even got a festive treat: Christmas Dirtbag, setting the tone for what everyone in the room was waiting for. Because as much as we loved the deep cuts, the covers, the chaos and the charm, there was only ever going to be one moment that crowned the night.

Teenage Dirtbag.

When it hit, it hit hard. The room transformed into a choir instantly, louder than the PA, louder than reason, louder than anything. Brendan didn’t need to sing it — at one point he joked that he might as well step back because we’d nailed the falsetto with unexpected accuracy. It was one of those rare live moments where the band and audience merge into one ridiculous, glorious monster of sound.

The set ran for at least two hours, maybe more — time became irrelevant somewhere around the ninety-minute mark. What mattered was the connection, the atmosphere, the sheer delight of being in a room with a band who give absolutely everything and look like they mean every second of it.

Wheatus aren’t just a nostalgia act. They’re an experience. A real one. And before you leave this planet, make sure you see this band live at least once. You’ll walk out changed — lighter, louder, and a hell of a lot happier.