Regtown has quickly become a cult thing, even though it’s only on its third outing.

Put together a cool venue like Hyde Park Book Club; the energy and vision of Private Reg, who’s somehow built a creative mass of musicians across Leeds and beyond in just a few years; a weekend of sharply curated 30‑minute sets; excellent stalls with chatty stallholders; and the coolest crowd imaginable (plus me). What you get is a blissful, beery, safe space where you can roam between new sounds to your heart’s content. I was born for Regtown, dear reader.

A family issue meant I missed Day 2, which is probably the only reason this review exists at all. Another day of deliciousness and I’d still be writing.

My only slight grumble (as someone who gets close to the stage to avoid the risk of irritating random chat between punters) is that the snug is, well, snug. The acts at Regtown alternate between the two, so if you want to see someone in the snug, you may need to forego quite a lot of the artist on the main stage immediately prior in order to get towards the front.

The snug, that said, is an amazing space of draped fabric and a mass of excited humanity. I felt like a member of Elwell, so close was I. I could have flicked an earlobe or two if so minded (don’t worry Elwell—or perhaps Earwell—that’s really not my thing; purely illustratin’).

Elwell were a great choice to get close to. A jangly, energetic, twangy, tight and hard delight, with the dynamics of dual vocals, lively bass lines, duelling guitars and considered, clever beats, turned the room into a bouncing mass. Elwell are a band gaining traction after a banging Left of the Dial, and performances like this make me think bigger things loom.

Also in this little huddle of a room, I subsequently caught Exeter‑based Pushbike. The vocals sat a little low (even for a band who favour that mix), but the power of this understated outfit shone through.

Pushbike’s sheer force brought out an involuntary beam on my face. A British 2020s Strokes or Hüsker Dü all authenticity and perfect fuzzy garage charm for the small space. Hearing Bet You Know, gave early live Supergrass tingles. Now the song has now been retired from the live set, I can smugly say I was there. Pushbike sucked all the air out of the room and left me gasping.

Although it was going to be a deliciously long day, I was at the head of the stage at the start for young upstarts Imaginary Husband.

As the band name suggests, Imaginary Husband are indeed intelligent and fun, and this lively set belied the early slot. They were clearly delighted to be joined on stage by guitarist Jackson for the first time since October, and also by a spirited trumpet accompaniment for It’s The Little Things.

The Imaginary Husband set was messy, scrappy, post‑punky and all the better for it—rhythms clashing, beats pounding, lyrics full of stressed everyday imagery and sardonic bite.

In a sea of magnificently curated music, a band I’d heard a lot of buzz about and was keen to see was Magnum Opus II. I think astonishing is the word. This band can only get better, and what’s already on show is pretty perfect.

My most‑played album of 2025 was Caroline 2, and Igot a sense of similar: busy beavers on stage, with flows of rhythms that weave about—sometimes friendly, sometimes having a push about—but always supremely interesting. Sax, clarinet, and a supremely loose, jazzy, experimental feel.

My most‑played album of 2025 was Caroline 2, and I got a similar sense from the gig: a stage full of busy beavers, each one absorbed in their own micro‑task, yet somehow all tugging the same thread. The rhythms didn’t just sit there — they flowed, weaving around each other in ways that felt alternately friendly, nudging, argumentative and curious, exploratory, alive. What really set it was the reed work — sax and clarinet lines that felt loose in the best possible way.

Hereonin came a couple of bands—very diverse—that I had been desperate to catch live.

First up were enigmatic Bug Teeth, fresh from the resounding success of their otherworldly debut album Micrographia.

The album is a beautiful, slightly gentle, totally melodic and fuzzy‑around‑the‑edges but also forensic and detailed look at processing grief and loss. There’s a very human mix of tender and hard in the Bug Teeth musical armoury. Fans of the likes of Stereolab (also amazing live, btw) would feel right at home.

The band’s power to describe emotion shone through, witnessed by the quiet and respect of the audience, despite the long hours many punters had already spent in the room.

Lead singer PJ Johnson wore an almost simple Amish‑type frock which emphasised their serious, strong but straightforward vibe. Bug Teeth were just divine.

Holly Head were my second “finally seeing them live” band. they delivered with a kind of scruffy precision that’s become their signature. A loose, choppy afro‑beat pulse, riffs with grit to bite, and an unpolished and totally intentional swagger. By the end the band had made a lot of new friends.

There are more notes than you can count flowing in the room when Holly Head perform. While the music is complex enough not to feel immediate, it’s also very accessible. Holly Head are a gutsy band with personality and style in spades. Politics, edge and realness are the message in this band’s music.

Normal Village were my final Regtown experience and a frantic force onstage. I’ve seen these good folk a couple of times and their quality just shines through. There are shades of discordant Velvet Underground in that guitar work.

Of course, this was a Spike double‑dose treat, given Spike’s “other band” Elwell played earlier. Spike is one of the main vocalists in Normal Village, and his slightly lighter voice contrasts well with the vocals of Fakie, who approaches singing as he does his drum and guitar playing—stridently and with force. Normal Village deliver a frantic pulse of rythm and notes a plenty. This is the kind of band where my brain is a line or two behind, it takes that much processing time.

My Regtown journey ended here. I’m not sure how it happened, dear reader, but ten hours of steady, sedate alcohol imbibing suddenly sped up and there was risk of my showing my knickers at the Bathing Suits set. I’m sure no one would have minded but me the next morning.

I wobbled home through the streets of Hyde Park, Reg Town for the day, delicious music ringing in my ears, with the whirring little Just Eat delivery robots to accompany me.