REVIEW: Green Gardens and Mouth at Strings 27.11.25

DON'T panic. We'll be OK. It's just something to get through.

Green Gardens have picked an interesting time to drop in on the Isle of Wight music scene from their home planet of Leeds. They're kindred spirits to our collaborative ambition in some ways - they do their own thing, make their own music, answer only to themselves and to trusted peers - and one of them has his own venue.

Which is where we would all like to be. But we're going through this thing. And while the bigger guns are off doing their stuff in lands beyond - often forgetting to find time to phone home - other great Wight hopes of a year or two ago stand in a spacious room wondering what might happen next. These bright prospects of 2023 and 2024 stand chatting at the bar about not having news to share, about having no gigs on the horizon, about much-missed Platform One bright sparks who snuffle out with each year's graduation. 

Don't panic. Green Gardens made an album out of catharsis and loss. So there's always that. Their songbook digs deep into a 1990s seam, plundering the slackercore and harmless math-indie constructs that were a staple of pre-internet labels like Mammoth and Alias. Psychedelic and mournful, with Velvety drums that rarely exceed the legal human heart pace, non-threatening vocals and pedalboards that are played more than the guitars which dangle over them. 

Periodically, a keyboard riff might impolitely bump into a wiry, scratchy guitar part and end up all Gang of Four-y. But they always apologise. And, with a shrug, such improprieties are forgiven and possibly forgotten.

We could always think back to openers Mouth, instead.  Two piece or not two piece, there are solid reminders of past Mermaid glory tuneship while Tom and Chris switch between electric and acoustic bass and guitar to present a thoughtful and wordy jam that dips in and out of the eloquent world of Ye Pavement from time to time.

There's no Emma and there's no ear-splitting Moog either - or was it a theremin? Memory is thin, like a Sandown mist.

That's fine. It's something to get through. And we will do just that. 2026 then? 2026.