LAUNDRY DAY - 14/05/26

They might not be known for their poeticism, yet it’s often the band’s most at-face-value lyrics that spark the most passionate reception from the antithesis of a typically understated London collective. A committed group of fans organise their double-sided posters in ‘I Kinda Like That’, bouncing up the lyrics to its formulaic bridge, ‘One, two, three, four / She’s coming up to my door / Five, six, seven, eight / Count the freckles on her face’... and somehow turn it into one of the night’s most lively movements.

‘Is he really rich? / Does he have a big dick?’, Lipkin spills in the semi-spoken ‘Aperol Spritz’, a dramatic unfolding of romantic jealousy that meets a grinning audience. It’s a gear shift from the preceding track, ‘Medicine’, a considerably more heartfelt smooth indie sound, and a set highlight from the other end of the sarcasm spectrum.

Some songs lean towards The Sugarhill Gang, others more NSYNC. Carried over into the lead vocalist’s basketball jersey, there’s a Stateside 90s ethos that runs through Laundry Day – themselves formed in Manhattan. The band is a pic’n’mix of characters and music styles; you’re not entirely sure what they’re going for — and there is some genre whiplash. Are Weingartner’s commitment to his sunglasses serious or ironic? Are the occasional boyband inflections tongue-in-cheek or accidental? Are they pitching camp or cool? Part GRiZ, part Flight Of The Conchords, part Role Model, you could spend the entire gig trying to figure it out.

But what is undeniable is the feelgood-verging-into-unreservedly-silly atmosphere encouraged throughout the evening, which by the end of the night was easy to feel warmly enveloped by.

Lipkin’s intense eye contact invites the crowd to participate, spending real effort to connect with individual faces. But it’s not until a generously long encore that the band come truly alive, unleashing an authentic, genuine energy that sees him step fully into the role of frontman. Following hearty stamps and roars for more, the band returned to an eruptive ‘Dancing Queen’, transforming the entire room to one joyful mass of hands and movement, ending with hook-driven originals ‘Supermodel’ and ‘See You In Another Life’.

Performed to an almost exclusively Gen Z audience, a refreshing breadth of aesthetic diversity tuned in for complete musical mishmash. Likewise, no dress code or demographic held dominance. Rather, Friday saw a pie chart of youth in all its beautifully chaotic and clichéd formats – screeching girls, boisterous lads, drunken makeouts, fancy dress posses, and bubbling teenagers. For an evening, The Garage transformed into a grown up’s nursery, full of colour and play.

Laundry Day’s setlist might not get stuck in your head on the way home, but the all-encompassing escapism poured into their London gig finale, and the gift of connection delivered with it, will long be fondly remembered.