Searows: Manchester Academy 2 – Live Review

Searows | Amos Heart
Manchester Academy 2
8th April 2026

Searows and Amos Heart bring the indie folk sounds of the American Pacific Northwest to a packed Manchester Academy as Mancunians pay homage on a night of spine-tingling, hushed adoration.

Musically, Searows and Amos Heart compliment each other perfectly. But what, you may ask, are the indie folk sounds of the Pacific Northwest? For contemporary comparison, Phoebe Bridger’s Stranger in the Alps album comes closest to the sound. For those of an older vintage, there are echoes of Daniel Lanois Acadie record and his production work on mid 1990’s albums like Wrecking Ball by Emmylou Harris. It’s music that’s in turns melodic, mournful, mellow, and mesmerising, performed mainly in minor keys. For the listener, vocals present as an instrument complimenting others, with lyrics blurred and often difficult to decipher.

Amos Heart is up first. In some ways, he’s a traditional troubadour updated for the twenty-first century. A man alone on stage. His predecessors would have entertained with an acoustic guitar, but Amos prefers electric. He’s armed too with a bank of pedals and a little box of tricks; samples to expand his sound. It’s a pleasing sound too, mellow and restrained yet at times uplifting. For the casual listener, it’s the sound that dominates, with one song merging into the next with little variation. There’s one exception in his thirty-minute set, a cover of Leonard Cohen’s A Bird on A Wire. It hits harder and heavier than his own material, but only decipherable as your reviewer happens to know the lyrics.

There’s some easy-going, softly spoken banter between songs too. Our troubadour has a folkies disdain for Seattle’s overpriced coffee culture and has artistic aspirations, painting portraits best described as primitive in style. And back in the USA, he often performs with a trumpeter friend. Tonight, though, his friend’s here in spirit only, pre-recorded among the artist’s bank of samples. What’s most striking, though, is tonight’s audience. At the front, they’re mostly female and in their twenties. Further back, it’s more mixed in both age and gender. As Amos performs, 900 souls stand in utter silence, staring stage ward in wide-eyed adoration, erupting into loud cheers and applause after every song. Midway through the set, amid an oppressive silence, one of the security team whispers into my ear, “I’ve never seen anything like this at a gig.” It’s a pattern of awestruck reverence and silence that will prevail through most of tonight’s headline act too.

Searows are songwriter, vocalist and guitarist Alec Duckart and his backing band. Their sound is similar to Amos Heart’s but given greater texture and expansive variety by impressive musicians, and an unseen but frequently used mellow synth wash.

They open with Belly of the Whale from their current album, Death in the Business of Whaling. It sets a template for what’s to come. The recorded version’s dominant banjo refrain’s replaced by an electric guitar, but the tone’s unchanged. Delicate, mournful vocals and hummed backing evoke a mood of sadness. Kill What You Eat is initially more fragile. Opening with a plaintive voice and strummed guitar, it builds as harmonies swell and drums kick in into something more structured. Still mournful but somehow strangely uplifting.

Photograph of a Cyclone, with drums to the fore, feels more like a band piece. It’s in a minor key and dark in texture, but once again, there’s a sense of optimism lurking. As the song closes, Alec pauses to speak, and we first become aware of his own apparent frailty, of his lack of confidence in front of an audience and struggles to communicate. The audience clearly finds it endearing, but for your reviewer, his lack of confidence becomes a source of irritation. There are too many protracted erms . . and pregnant pauses. Combined with the intense audience silence, an exaggerated sense of unease begins to prevail.

Martindale’s introduced as a rearranged old song that he doesn’t like. Originally for voice and guitar, the full band version is certainly different, but for me, it loses some of the original’s sparse, haunting qualities. Someone gives Alec a homemade card or book – it’s hard to tell from the back of the crowd. He’s taken aback and seemingly lost for words, but a faltering but unheard extended exchange of words ensues. From a distance, the spectacle looks embarrassing, but again I’m probably in a minority of one as the crowd respond with wild applause.

Dearly Missed proves to be a show highlight. Initially downbeat and poignant, it begins with just vocals and electric guitar. As drums and lead guitar join, the track becomes more atmospheric and takes on a much heavier tone. The fuzzed grunge-inspired lead guitar owes a debt to Neil Young’s playing, and it develops into a really emotive piece; a song that begins as a whisper but becomes something charged with power.

Mid-set, we’re treated to a live exclusive, a cover of David by Lorde. Being honest and unfamiliar with the original, it sounds much like many other tracks aired tonight as Searows put their own imprint on the song.

The band depart during an acoustic interlude, leaving just Alec and his guitar. Keep The Rain and Dirt are stripped of their sonic layering but lose none of their impact with the sparse delivery adding to their haunting fragility and poignancy.

The band returns for a clunky rendition of In Violet before hitting their stride once again for the sombre Roadkill, embellished with some tasteful slide guitar. Some bands build atmosphere and energy as they head toward a set’s climax, but Searows do things differently. Two more songs from the Whaling album, Hunter and Janie, bring a return to brooding vulnerability. As the silence during songs becomes almost claustrophobic, the release of raw ecstatic cheering and applause that greets each track’s closure seems to grow ever more powerful. Almost inevitably, Searows turn down the volume and up the intimacy for their encore. Final track geese is dark, delicate and mesmerising, with Alec’s voice at its most mournful and sombre.

Tonight’s been an unusual, emotive gig with an extraordinary audience who’ve taken fan devotion in new directions.

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Searows can be followed on Facebook|Instagram|and theirwebsite

Amos Heart can be followed on Facebook| and Instagram|

Words and photos by Trev Eales. More work by Trev can be found on Louder Than War at his author’sprofile.