Islington Assembly Hall isn’t usually a home for southern heat and highway hymns, but on Friday night, A Thousand Horses turned the place into a full-throttle, sweat-soaked revival.
With boots planted in Nashville soul and amps roaring like V8 engines, they delivered a headline set that swaggered, soared, and howled redemption – melodic, raw, and built for that wide open road. This was country rock re-tooled for 2025: danceable, dangerous, and cool as f@*k.
Before them, opening the night like a dust storm rolling in from the Delta, These Wicked Rivers delivered a thunderous, old-school country psych-rock sermon – part bar-room brawl, part supernatural ritual. Looking like a coven of evil wizard cowboys conjured during a 1960s mescaline-fuelled séance, they were all hair, hats, and hellfire.
Their black-clad guitarist spun like a possessed preacher, high-kicking like a can-can dancer and unleashing intricate, molten solos that wouldn’t be out of place at Wacken. At times, he seemed to channel the ghost of Stevie Ray Vaughan via that weapon of a guitar.
Frontman John Hartwell – imagine a gunslinger with unfinished business and a voice soaked in whiskey and vengeance – let loose a growly, impassioned vocal that sounded like it came from the wrong end of a six-shooter showdown in Tombstone.
The bassist brought a laid-back stoner cool, but with faster fingers and a groove that throbbed like a muscle car engine on the brink. Meanwhile, keyboards kept the game in church whilst the drummer pounded with the unrelenting force of a freight train at full tilt, driving each track forward like it was hell-bent on breaking through the sound barrier.
Set highlights included the beautifully broken “Don’t Pray For Me” – all emotive depth and ragged soul – and the stomping “Testify”, a dirty rock anthem that made the crowd want to howl at the moon while throwing back a bottle of something dangerous.
Then came the headliners—and from the opening chords, A Thousand Horses had the crowd whooping and clapping overhead like it was Sunday in a Tennessee tent revival. Their set – a super-tight, 15-plus-song trip through the musical backroads of America and Manchester – proved why they’re so much more than just another country-rock outfit. All your favourite ATH stompers were there, plus a surprise splash of Champagne Supernova to boot.
Michael Hobby – part shade-wearing preacher, part outlaw – led the charge with a voice that danced between melodic twang and clipped snarl. Imagine if Jim Morrison had been born south of the Mason-Dixon Line and raised on a steady diet of Skynyrd and Springsteen. He prowled the stage with purpose, shimmering at times with a T-1000-like, shape-shifting charisma, even throwing out a few leather-clad Lizard King poses for good measure.
Certainly more danceable than your average country rock band, A Thousand Horses wove in hints of college rock, especially on fan favourites like “Blaze of Somethin’” and “The Outside” – the latter a jangly, cleverly constructed gem with unexpected chord changes that kept the journey interesting without ever losing the groove.
Their use of rock instrumentation was cunning and creative: screeching solos mimicked frantic hillbilly fiddles, and some of the fingerpicked guitar lines had a twangy, banjo-like snap.
Refreshingly, they kept the arrangements stripped back enough to give the songs breathing space, but never ever at the cost of energy or emotion. “A Song to Remember”, a melodic toe-tapper with the achingly memorable lyric “I need a song to remember, and a drink to forget,” got the crowd belting it back like it was written just for them.
A huge special mention to Kezia Gill, who joined them on “Trailer Trashed” and absolutely tore it up. Her vocals came loaded with raw power and a don’t-mess-with-me presence, like the stage had time-travelled straight into a dive bar brawl where she was both the cause and the cure. We’re really looking forward to her upcoming headline shows.
These Wicked Rivers lit the fuse, but A Thousand Horses blew the roof clean off. No gimmicks, no gloss – just grit, groove, and songs that hit like a barstool to the head. This kind of country rock isn’t riding off into the sunset – it’s tearing through towns, burning down the saloons on its champing, snorting, dust-plumed rampage.
A THOUSAND HORSES PLAYED ISLINGTON ASSEMBLY HALL – FRIDAY 1 AUGUST 2025
SUPPORT FROM THESE WICKED RIVERS
FULL PHOTO SET UP SOON….
