Anacondaz played their first-ever London show in a local venue last week as part of their first international tour since 2024, marking a significant moment both for the band and for the audience abroad. Unfortunately, it was also the tour finale, which inevitably added a certain emotional weight to the evening and made the experience feel even more special. The concert was their first-ever performance in the UK, and that made it feel like a rare occasion. The audience reflected that sense of significance. It was a room full of like-minded people who not only know the songs but feel the lyrics. More than half of the attendees seemed to be there for something beyond simple nostalgia; it was a desire to feel young again, to briefly step back into their twenties, or to reconnect with that earlier version of themselves that once felt more immediate.
Anacondaz, formed in Astrakhan in 2009 by Artem Khorev and Sergey Karamushkin, delivered a set that combined newer material from their recent album Night with the Astrachan man with older tracks that have clearly not lost their relevance. The mix worked not as a retrospective but as a continuity with songs from different periods tied seamelessly together, as if the themes they address have only become more relevant with time.
What stands out about their songwriting is its layered structure. On the surface, individual lines or choruses can appear deliberately provocative, exaggerated, or even absurd in a way that makes them stuck in your head for days. But the more you return to the songs, the more layers appear. They gradually open up (almost like peeling an onion), revealing a consistent attempt to capture and mock everyday behaviour and human contradictions that somehow concern everyone, including the listener themselves, and often in a way that still resonates strongly over time. This is part of why the concert hits in a very specific way. You recognise fragments of your own past thinking in the lyrics, and it creates a strange mix of discomfort and warmth. It is reflective and it produces that physical reaction of recognition at the same time. There are goosebumps, a brief tightening of attention, and then a kind of release when you stop analysing and just immerse in the music.
Musically, Anacondaz operate within what they define as “pauzern rock”, which is a hybrid style combining rap, punk, rock, and hip-hop elements. The result is a high-energy format that supports their satirical and rhythm-driven delivery that shifting between aggressive rap sections, punk-like intensity, and more structured rock solos. In a nutshell, it creates constant motion, both emotional and physical. The atmosphere in the venue reflected that energy. A mosh pit formed, and a “death wall” split the crowd, with people waiting for these moments and creating the collective momentum of the show.
Another striking moment of the night came when drummer Sergey Kivin, formerly of the band Animal Jazz, performed a section of the well-known track ‘Three Stripes’. The entire venue sang along, turning it into a unified moment without any separation between stage and audience. In the end, the concert felt like a closing point in more than one sense. It was not just the end of a tour, but a reminder of why this music continues to matter across time. For first-time attendees, it is a formal entry into that world, while for long-time fans, it is a confirmation that the connection is still there.
JADAR 