A freight train of sound, smashing through the walls.
If you read any gangster fiction or watch any gangster film, there’s always a bit where someone gets respect for being really fucking hard but never raising their voice. Galaxy Girls have this *nailed*. This is not polished, it’s not technically proficient, it’s basically 100% restrained menace, the threat left unsaid. There are some overtly badass moments – the way the bassist plays high notes on one string instead of using the full set, the singer’s ‘un deux trois quatre’ dropped in with a sneer – but the set thrums on a bassy rumble, atmospheric and teeming. There are no tunes that you’ll hum in the shower – but you’ll definitely be afraid of them on a dark night. And they didn’t even need to raise their voice.
Liquid Time are from Avalon, and basically play blistering and pounding psyche loonhattery interspersed with the occasional moment of actual song. Jesus, when they collectively decide to let go, it pummels you into a paste. This is why people get addicted to collecting guitar pedals.
By rights, I should completely despise The Dinlows. Ferchrissakes, it’s dubby, reggae-infused, stoner white-boy spitting. So why the ever-living heckers am I enjoying this so much? Glad you asked. It’s because of the fact that they cram more music – more notes, more words, more technical nous – into every single bar than most bands squeeze into a set. The technical ability here is unreal. Literally every part of this maniac setup – including a trombonist and the singer who also plays guitar who also plays what may or may not be a cornet – makes me ashamed to think I’m slightly musical. Blimey. Waaaay impressed. Also, just because it’s fun to say: FUCKING TROMBOOOOONE.
Rackett really couldn’t be doing any more right. They’ve played and played and played, they’ve quite clearly landed on a musical spot they’re all delighted to be on, and they’re tight, focussed, and in the damn zone. They’re also madder than a box of frogs. Tonight is the single launch, supposedly, but really this is a party to celebrate the end of the beginning, and the beginning of what’s next. The room is packed silly, the band are eye-masked in matching face paint, there’s clambering over speakers and up amps, and it’s a bloody riot of fun and noise. Just about every second has a brutal thumping churn of a rhythm, there are hooks spilling out of every pore and it’s a hoot to be around. Fast becoming my band of the year, it’s a bloody freight train, and it’s smashing through everything. Love it? Hell, I bought the t-shirt. And so will you.
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