BC Camplight at Exeter Phoenix 7th November 2025

I’ve seen BC Camplight live three times now. First in 2021, then in 2023. His music and lyrics are richly layered in nuance with a deep undertone of poignant misery. Brian Cristinzio is charismatic, if somewhat self-deprecating, with a vivid sense of dark humour. 

This time, I'm going with the intention of writing a review afterwards. It’s the first time I’m doing anything like this, informed by my interest in people and my years of experience working with addiction and trauma. I’ve worked therapeutically with many incredibly creative individuals over the years.

 

The book Touched with Fire explores the link between creativity and mental health suffering and its artistic expression: the anguish, agony, and emotional depth associated with bipolar disorder often finds expression in the art of those who suffer from it. For artists, the illness can be a source of both torment and inspiration. Brian has openly discussed his own struggles with severe depression, anxiety, and addictions. That rawness comes through in his songs, drifting from almost serene melodies to jarring, dark, loud sections; like the calm before the storm in a an uneasy horror film scene.

 

The gig wasn’t quite a sellout, but it's busy. I was surrounded almost entirely by over 40s, possibly mainly over 50s. The last gig I went to was Tamino at Electric, Bristol, where I was one of the golden oldies in a room full of 20 and 30-something arthouse types. This feels different; more BBC Radio 6.

 

BC Camplight and his band come onstage. He’s clutching a bottle of red wine and proudly waving it around. I thought he’d stopped drinking, but here he is. This tour promotes his recent album, perhaps ironically, A Sober Conversation. I gather that Brian discerns drug sobriety from alcohol sobriety.

 

The first song, The Tent, from the new album:

 

Have you tried some ashwagandha
Hot milk and chamomile
And cutting out the caffeine
Deep breathing, meditation
Try changes all your sheets
And turning off the TV

 

I feel seen. He stands, holding his stool high and thrusting it around dramatically (he’s strong! ) and launches into I’m Desperate to huge cheers.

I notice the female singer/musician seems different this time. A highlight at previous gigs as singer, guitarist, keyboard player, and saxophonist. Now there’s another young woman with dark hair, singing and playing guitar, and a male keyboard and sax player. From their exchanges, she seems to be in a relationship with Brian.

 

Brian’s in-between banter is, as always, engaging. He knows how to communicate enough to draw us in. “It’s the best I’ve ever felt,” he declares before singing I Only Drink When I’m Drunk. You’ve got to love a song that mentions Buckfast (tonic wine) and Irn Bru in the first verse.

 

Brian cheerily announces that just that morning he’s been nominated for a Grammy. Cue loud cheers and “oohs”, before he wryly adds, “only joking.”

 

Kicking up a Fuss next…sharing the almost Beach Boy vibes, I see Brian waving to a couple of people at the front who are waving at him. It seems like a genuine connection. More in-between bants about the giant sleep bus they are touring in. Jessica, the lady on guitar, is joining in and adding to the joviality. Brian tells us that the bus is split into “non- snorers’ and “snorers” , the latter of which Jessica tells us is referred to as “the snore ward”.  They’ve been in Exeter since 6am. Brian reckons "it feels very rich in Exeter" and he apparently availed himself of entertainment at St Nicholas’s Priory and Topsham Museum. He then proudly announces that he has been off drugs for 2.5 years. The whole room cheers at this moment, before Brians tells us “Cardiff booed at me for saying the same thing!”.

Where You Taking My Baby? drifts from melodic beginnings into darker, more frenetic energy. At one point, the lights are raised at Jessica ‘s request so that she can see the audience. This is helpful timing as it helps to me to retrieve my pen after dropping it, fumbling around to find it between the feet of a bloke two rows ahead.

 

Shortly After Takeoff and Just Because I Love You follow. I notice how much I appreciate watching the band; solid musicians just getting on with their job. Then the band walks off, Brian adds, with the usual touch of self-deprecation:

 

“Myself not included, this is the best band in the world.”

 

A very loud, drunk man behind me is shouting and annoying pretty much everyone around him, but fortunately a few people tell him to shut up, in stronger terms. Brian tells us that he didn’t feel prepared and purports that he had had to Google BC Camplight songs before the gig. The crowd chants “Mafia!” and so begins I want to be in the Mafia. We stand mesmerised, absorbing the intimate, vulnerable lyrics and accomplished piano work.

The bottle of wine reappears , as  does the band. In fact, Brian informs us, it’s the third bottle of wine. He declares that we have one more “miserable song; let me get my soul out” and proceeds to share a song that “I haven’t played correctly the whole tour” to the audience reply of “tonight’s the night”. 

 

Drunk Talk lyrics include: “oh you’re American? I’m one sixteenth jerky.”

 

The pace picks up:

Two Legged Dog; sobriety, recovery, limping along, Brian and Jessica singing.

She’s Gone Cold; another song about Brian’s ex girlfriend/break-up.

Blood and Peanut Butter; this one is a very catchy piano based pop song and again some cracking vocals by Jessica. 

Then one of my all-time favourites: I’m Alright in the World. The tile sounding like a declaration of positivity but its delayed refrain, like an afterthought, “any… time… now…,” lands like a caveat, carrying wry fragility. It’s not dramatic, just quietly honest. It’s the sound of someone trying to hold themselves together. Bittersweet. Epitomising the BC Camplight Vibe.

After a brief, goodbye-less exit, the band returns for The Last Rotation of Earth and A Sober Conversation. Brian shouts out that the band want to go somewhere for drinks later “Where’s good?”. A few people yell out but he hones in on my shout out, mishearing it, but I manage to project my voice ( an occasionally useful skill of mine) so he can hear it perfectly. “Mermaid”. 
 

After the Show

 

The show done, I avail myself of a rather fetching coral BC Camplight tote bag. I've always been told that the artists make money on the merch, not the tickets. Although I am not normally an autograph kind of person, I ask Brian to sign my notebook, and he kindly asks me if I want him to write anything. I tell him to write whatever he's feeling:

 

“I was tired when I arrived.
You all gave me energy.
Now I’m tired again, and feeling my age.
Thanks for being here.”

 

My friends and I pop for a post-gig drink at Mermaid. Sure enough, BC Camplight and his band come in, to clapping from those of us who had been at the gig. A quick drink and they were off as quickly as they arrived. 

 

Reflections

 

The next day I look up Francesca, Brian’s ex and former bandmate. Watching him sing about past relationships while performing with Jessica, his new partner, felt a little awkward, but it’s part of his story and his story is part of his music. I hope things are civil between them. Francesca seems grounded and is exceptionally talented. It seems clear that Brian and Jessica share something special on and offtstage. Brian has cited in interviews that she has been an important part of his recovery journey. Maybe Francesca has been too.

This gig reinforced everything I appreciate about BC Camplight: musical craftsmanship, raw honesty, dark humour, and a live presence that pulls us into his compelling life history.

*photos all courtesy of Julian Baird Photography