Maxïmo Park // CRESCENT COMMUNITY VENUE, YORK

Maxïmo Park “SPLITS KICK” THEIR WAY UP THE A19 to York

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐(5/5)

Maximo Park @ York Crescent Community Venue
Photocredit - John Hayhurst

By the time the doors open at Crescent Community Venue, there’s a sense of something deliciously wrong. This is a room built for earnest locals and cult bands, not a group with a Mercury-nominated debut and two decades of bangers. That mismatch becomes the night’s secret weapon. Maxïmo Park arrive not to politely rehearse, but to stress-test their legacy against a ceiling you could headbutt and a stage barely wider than Paul Smith’s splits kick wingspan.

Before that, York’s own Knitting Circle stake their claim. Formed in 2023 and now operating as a three-piece, they play post-punk with the urgency of people who’ve seen cycles come and go and still have something to say. Jo Dale’s basslines thud with purpose while her deadpan vocals cut through, delivering lyrics about menopause with wit, bite and zero self-consciousness.

Pete Dale’s guitar is all angles and snap, channelling the choppy discipline of Andy Gill and Wilko Johnson without cosplay. It’s smart, bracing, socially switched-on stuff — and it lands. The crowd listens, then responds, warmed and sharpened for what’s coming. Smith, who’s known Pete Dale for years, watches on with the look of someone pleased that York bands still know how to kick it.

Maxïmo Park hit the stage, this is a warm-up show in name only. They’re playing their debut album in full — but not in track order — and treating it less like a museum piece than a deck of cards to be shuffled and flung. The setlist structure is canny: early rushes of adrenaline broken by lateral swerves into deeper cuts, then snapped back into focus by songs that have lived in people’s heads for twenty years.

Second track in, ‘Graffiti’ a personal favourite is always immense live. After the initial few seconds build up, Smith launches into his legendary splits kick, a move that feels borderline irresponsible given the postage-stamp dimensions here. He nearly wipes out the keyboard player and guitarist in one motion, then almost smacks his head on the ceiling for good measure. It’s slapstick flirtation with disaster, delivered with a grin that says: this is how we like it.

Smith is in constant motion, bouncing off the sound wedge, pointing with evangelical precision, stalking the front row like he’s counting everyone in personally. His pointing techniques alone deserve a footnote: accusatory, celebratory, conspiratorial. The band around him are locked in, precise without being stiff, relishing the chance to play loud, fast and close.

There’s real electricity in hearing songs that have been absent for a decade roar back to life. ‘A19’ rips through the room like a speeding truck heading for Middlesbrough at full tilt, all clatter and forward momentum. ‘Acrobat’ follows much later (starts the encore), its return greeted with a roar that suggests people didn’t realise how much they’d missed it until it was right there again.

What’s striking is how little filler there is. Twenty-one songs, and every one earns its place. Cuts from across the catalogue slot in seamlessly, proof that Maxïmo Park’s strength has always been consistency rather than peaks and troughs. The early material still feels sharp, the later songs arrive battle-tested and confident. There’s no nostalgia glaze here; everything is played like it matters right now.

The intimacy changes the dynamic. Smith locks eyes with fans mid-verse. The band adjust on the fly to the room’s limitations, riding the sound rather than overpowering it. At points, it feels like “We’ll give you everything if you meet us halfway”. The crowd happily obliges, singing back lines with the force of a second PA, bodies moving in instinctive unison.

By the final stretch, the temperature has climbed, the floor is slick, and the smiles are wide. This is Maxïmo Park reminding everyone — including themselves — why they endure. Not for polite applause or legacy slots, but for nights like this, where songs old enough to vote still feel capable of causing trouble.

As a tour warm-up, it’s almost unfair. If late February brings bigger rooms and safer distances, this York show will linger as the moment when the band shrank themselves down to fit a community venue, whilst losing non of their power and drive. If you’re on the fence about catching them on this upcoming tour, don’t be. These songs still bite, Smith still leaps, and the connection is very much alive — just hopefully with a bit more headroom next time.

Words and Photos - John Hayhurst