LOGAN'S CLOSE AT LEITH CRICKET CLUB: ALBUM TWO, PRISON GIGS, AND WHY WESTER HAILES MATTERS |

LIVE REVIEW & INTERVIEW | LOGAN’S CLOSE w/ Sarah Shaun | LEITH CRICKET CLUB, EDINBURGH | 21st May 2026

“Is that mine?” Scott asked, pointing at a Tennent’s can on the stage floor at Leith Cricket Club. Room full of folk who knew the answer. That’s Logan’s Close. Silly and right and local in a way that doesn’t need explaining.

I’d caught him outside earlier, having a smoke between soundcheck and doors. Asked him about the Crazy George’s line in ‘Hot Blondes in Your Area Tonight’. My dad spotted it first — we listen to their album Heart Shaped Jacuzzi in the car and when it hit he said “that’s Crazy George’s, man, that’s Crazy George’s.” The furniture shop in Wester Hailes that’s long gone now, but everyone from there knows it. Changed to Bright House later, had one at Westside Plaza.

Scott wrote the whole song about his dad sitting in his flat in Murrayburn Gardens. The couch, the telly, the fridge, the washing machine, all from Crazy George’s, all on tick. He didn’t pay any of it off. “So they came round and took all of his couches and his telly and his washing machine off him because he didn’t pay. He had all of his shit on deck and then just took it off.” Big silver box telly appeared in 2002, Scott’s dad proud of it, then down the line Crazy George’s wanting their telly back.

I was doing exactly what the song describes when my dad pointed it out. Sitting about Wester Hailes. Waiting. That’s what pushed me to start writing. To stop waiting.

Scott didn’t know that when I asked him outside. He just told me about his dad, about the flat, about the repossessions. But that’s what the song does. It names the place and the people in it, and if you’re from there you recognize yourself.

Now they’re going to London in July to record album two. Middle of July. This gig — first of two sold out nights — was the fundraiser. Getting the songs gig-ready so they’re not wasting studio time like last time. “Because I think last time when we recorded we were a bit like… we knew the tunes but not really. We still had to do quite a lot of work in the studio which ate into quite a lot of time. You want to try and be as efficient.”

The week before this gig they played HMP Addiewell. Category A. Maximum security. Stuart — the bassist, who builds office chairs for a living — was in there the same day working. Didn’t know the band were playing until Scott mentioned it. They were Googling the place on the drive over: “What’s the chat with this place, because obviously it’s like West Lothian so it cannae be that bad.” Found out it was high security. Fingerprints required. Pat-downs in a wee private room, Scott with massive sweat patches before he even got inside.

The sound engineer who recorded one of their earlier tunes, ‘Ticket Man’, works there now. He built a wee stage in the room, got beanbags in there, boys not handcuffed. Midday. Two acoustic sets.

Scott and Carl sitting with their legs crossed, looking out at a room full of bald heads and legs spread wide. “I noticed when we were on stage… they’re all sitting there like fucking legs as wide as fuck… and I’m sitting there with my legs crossed… we’re the only ones with our legs crossed.”

They played ‘Gouch’. Scott told the crowd: “This song’s about my sister.” Someone shouted back, start of the first chorus: “Who’s your fucking sister?”

They thought the boys would go mental for Johnny Cash covers. They went mental for the original stuff instead. Attentive. No one making noise while they were playing. Got it recorded. The sound engineer’s gonna mix it.

“Me and Carl met at football club in Dunbar when we were like eight” Scott said.“Started the band in 2014. Multiple lineups over the years — we had a really jazzy drummer one time, really jazzy keys player, so the sound was different. This version’s been solid for three or four years — Scott and Carl on guitars and vocals, Stuart on bass, and Gavin Lamont on drums holding down the core. The Raeburn brothers joined on keys late last year. First gig with Stu was 2021, at the Battery in Dunbar. 150 folk there.”

During lockdown I was staying at a caravan park with my family. Pheasants walking about. Stuart was talking about being in a caravan too, writing tunes every day and walking his dog. I misheard him say “wrote tunes” as “roaches” and had to ask him to repeat it.

“Me and Carl used to underage drink at the same place” Scott said. Different years, same park. First place I got served, I told him. First place he bought fags, he said — they had a wee machine, no one stopped him, 15 years old.

Inside Leith Cricket Club the heat was baking by the time doors opened.

My mum, dad, and sister came. The room filled fast.

My sister was 110 percent sure she’d bought tickets back in March. Turned out she hadn’t, and we weren’t on the list. Had to find Carl, sort it at the door. Shout out to the doorman and the band for getting us in.

Sarah Shaun opened. Trancy, dream pop, proper emotionally direct sound. My mum and sister started dancing. I joined them.

Then Logan’s Close. Scott in a cowboy hat someone handed him from the crowd. Buckfast on stage. Girls chanting Westside Plaza. Crowd shouting for ‘Gouching on the 33’.

“We are gonna play a lot of new tunes for you guys,” Scott said at the start.

They debuted a song about playing late-night acoustic sets at Whistlebinkies as the Scat Rats, their acoustic duo. Proper standout. I shouted “that’s a fucking tune” when it ended. Scott shouted back something about being in love with me, called me a paid stooge. Hope that’s one of the first new ones they release.

Another new one called ‘Cuckchair’ — funny name, absolute tune, need to hear it again to say more but it’s got something. One with the line “I wish I was a stoner but I’m an alcoholic,” delivered like a confession that got a laugh because it landed true. ‘Northern English Girls’ — “Don’t you hate it when you fall for a northern English girl,” Scott said before it. “Didn’t end great but got a song out of it, wayyyy.” Heartbreak as a punchline, then playing the song anyway. The Raeburn brothers holding it down on keys, the sound fuller and tighter than Heart Shaped Jacuzzi.

The new material sounded different live. Looser, more like performance pieces than recordings. The kind of songs that need a room to make sense. Carl and Scott’s vocals were the best I’ve heard them, bigger, more confident, feeding off each other. The crowd got behind the new tunes almost instantly, singing along to songs they’d never heard before just by listening.

On the Whistlebinkies song the whole room was with them by the second chorus. The Raeburn brothers on keys make this feel like a complete lineup now, settled and ready. This is a band made for a bigger stage. Leith Cricket Club was the start of the next wave.

Ridiculous song titles, silly personalities, banter that never stops. Then the lyrics land and the emotional depth was there the whole time. Not sadness, belonging. Recognition. Songs that name the place and the people in it

The band were struggling with the heat. You could see it. Didn’t taint the show they put on.

Scott asked: “You guys ready?” The crowd cheered. “No, fucking youse.”

Near the end: “We got like two more songs. But pretend this is the last.” The crowd bowed jokingly. They played three more. The crowd chanted “wan mare tune” three times. Scott leaned in: “Was that no anuff?”

They closed with ‘Half & Half’. The whole room sang it back at them. Not just the chorus — every word. I could see my dad across the room. He caught the Crazy George’s line first, months ago in the car. Now he’s watching me shout these lyrics at a gig I’m covering. That’s what stuck. A fanbase that knows every line, that spans generations, that means it when they sing it back.

It wasn’t enough. It never is with this band.

Carl and Scott have this swagger that feels purposeful and awkward at the same time, like they know exactly what they’re doing but aren’t taking it that seriously. You can hear the Merseybeat and British invasion influences in there — 60s baroque reworked with scorching guitar riffs and a modern edge. Bridging the gap between early rock vitality and what’s happening now, without feeling like they’re trying too hard to do either.

Album two’s being recorded in London in July. The new songs are ready. The fanbase is growing, loyal, cult-like in the best way. This is a night out in Edinburgh. This is the music scene. Five stars. Six if I could.

Half the interview had to be censored, but just know these boys are hilarious, got stories for days, and the talent to back it up.