The Dunwells & Raintown: Lessons for Wedding Photography

Some gigs feel big before they even start.

This one didn’t.

It was an afternoon set at Charlie’s Loft in Milngavie. Smaller room. Relaxed crowd. The kind of space where the music does not need to be loud to be felt.

As someone who is a musician as well as a photographer, those are the ones that tend to stay with you. The ones where you are not just hearing it, but sitting inside it for a while.

Raintown opened the afternoon. Glasgow based, and new to me. One of those sets where you settle in quickly and wonder why you have not listened sooner.

Then The Dunwells took over.

Two brothers, Joe and Dave, stripped back to guitars for most of the set. No overproduction. No distance. Just songwriting, connection, and a room that leaned in rather than stepped back.

They were joined for a few songs by Stevie and Fiona, which added something different without taking away from that simplicity.

I have photographed a few of their gigs now, and somewhere along the way I seem to have become the unofficial photographer for their Glasgow shows. Not something I planned, but definitely something I am grateful for.

Their songwriting speaks for itself. Honest, grounded, and easy to connect with. It is no surprise it has been recognised, even catching the attention of Simon Cowell!

Photographing without interrupting

What I love about spaces like this is the freedom.

There is no fixed spot. No restriction on movement. You can wander, observe, and settle into the rhythm of the room.

But that freedom comes with a responsibility.

To not get in the way.

To not pull attention.

To not shift the atmosphere.

So the approach stays the same. Move quietly. Blend in. Let things unfold.

At one point I was right at the front, camera up, and nobody reacted. The moment carried on exactly as it was.

The goal is not to be noticed. The goal is to notice.

The light never stays still

Concert lighting does its own thing.

It shifts mid-song. Faces fall into shadow and then reappear a second later. Colours change without warning.

There is no control over it. You just adapt.

It is the same mindset I bring into weddings.

Rooms are darker than expected. Dance floors are lit by whatever is there. Things do not always go to plan.

When you are used to working like this, it does not feel like a problem. You keep watching, keep anticipating, and wait for the moment to land.

Letting the music lead

One thing that always stands out in sets like this is how little needs to be forced.

The room settles. The music carries it. People lean in without being asked to.

The best moments are not always the obvious ones.

A glance between songs. A lyric that lands and changes the energy slightly. Someone in the crowd completely wrapped up in it for a second.

Those are the moments that feel real.

And they only happen if you give them space.

It is the same on a wedding day. The less you interrupt, the more those moments show up on their own.

909 photos, 2 and a half hours

Across both sets, I took 909 photos over two and a half hours.

Not far off a half day wedding.

But in reality, only around 250 of those will make it through.

There are always overlaps. Similar frames. Small variations of the same moment. The job is not to deliver everything, but to choose what actually matters.

The frames that feel right. The ones that hold something.

It is the same approach I take with weddings.

You are not handed thousands of images to sift through. You are given a set that has been carefully shaped. A collection that reflects how it felt, not just everything that happened.

If you want to see how that looks in practice, you can explore it here: wedding portfolio

Different setting, same instinct. Watching, waiting, and then choosing with care.