Basht. @ HPBC 

In my ever-increasing efforts to escape the clutches of a passionless existence by getting a job within the music industry, I find myself doing whatever I can to give myself a leg up. After all, to succeed as a modern-day creative, it feels as though you must become a human Swiss army knife capable of capturing your imagination in a dozen different mediums. Adding photography to the resume seems like the next natural step for me. Despite a deep appreciation and curiosity, I’ve always peered into gig photography from the sidelines instead of down the lens. Time to change that with a nip round the corner to Hyde Park Book Club to photograph Basht. on their ‘Bitter and Twisted’ Tour. 

Basht. are ferocious, visceral, primal, and justly vain. Stuffing their set into a mere smidgen of pixels seems a disservice to the raw power of their set. However, seeing Basht.’s own personal photographer whipping round the gaff getting shots seemingly crisper than my own eyesight gave me the go ahead to try all the same. With the independent guitar music scene mid-resurgence, the market is beyond saturated with alternative male 4-pieces, and yet Basht. have been able to carve out a gritty, purposeful and truly isolated sound. Debut EP ‘Dirty White Lies’ (2024) set up great promise and recent sophomore release ‘Bitter and Twisted’ (2025) hit it home. 

For a greener than grass, debuting photographer, you’d assume the sweats and shakes are the last thing you need plaguing your hands when you are trying to capture a moment, and yet it was exactly what I needed. Basht.’s grit and power sent shockwaves through the Book Club crowd and freed me from the shackles of inexperience. Basht.’s sound is what I like to call ‘calculated grunge’ (patent pending). There’s a deep pain brewing behind the surface of every song’s particular riffs and vocal sirens that the quartet can’t help but release by the time the drumskins fall flat. 

The intensity of Basht.’s gigs almost gives them a spiritual quality. For this particular liturgy, I was up close and personal, kneeling at the altar of the band, potentially a little too willing to sacrifice my ears to their sonic ritual. The opening hymns were the opening tracks of the band’s two so far released EPs. Inhibitions shattered, and spirits aloft, I was all in. Guitars like Gatling guns rifled off song after song, each better received than the last. ‘Stockholm’ and ‘Burn’ saw the crowd rise to every last word frontman Jack Leavey spat at them, and before I knew it I was caught between two collapsing waves; one being the surging crowd behind me and another being the viscous blasts of Basht.’s sound hitting my head on. By the time ‘Gone Girl’ and ‘Sirens’ were gifted to the longing crowd, I was gladly swallowed by the flood. 

The room throughout the night was nothing short of sweltering hot, as if the air had soaked up the palpable passion consistent in both musician and fan alike. I emerged from my pressurised vessel, drenched in sweat, wide-eyed with a new lease of life. Despite sounding like Katy Perry’s post-cosmic tourism excursion, I’d like to think my journey wasn’t quite as in vain. The photos that returned from my expedition felt appropriately raw and unkept, similar to Basht. themselves – however don’t let that fool you. Basht. boast a tight set with crisp talent and soaring power, one that serves a small stage well yet wouldn’t be out of place in the vast festival fields (something to bear in mind for anyone planning their festival visits this summer). 

Words By Daniel Brown