October 25, 1998

Bedford Esquires

In their heads they truly think they're American. They've actually grown those walrus moustaches...

CHRIS TECKKAM is talking to the dogs. Dishing out pure fear and loathing like he's on the freeway out of Las Vegas, he gazes out over a room full of slobbering pre-teens, all licking each other's tonsils like they're coated with Sunny Delight, and sees nothing but goddamned dry-humpin' mutts everywhere! So he tries to communicate the only way he knows how. He barks. He woofs. He howls like a castrated coyote. Frankly, we're lucky there are no lamp-posts onstage or he'd be arrested for marking out Bedford as his personal territory.

And what is this clearly deranged rock Dolittle trying to tell us through his canine mutterings? "Watch out! Behind you! It's THE CLAW!" perhaps? Or maybe, "We may look like we clean Buttfuck, Arizona's municipal lavatories for a living but we're actually from Chiswick"? Chances are though, it's something along the lines of "HYUCK-HYUCK! We're bloody MAD us! HYUCK-HYUCK!"

Hey, crazy name, guys-awaiting-committal. See, unlike the billion skunk rockers raiding fancy-dress shops for every photo shoot, TEN BENSON are too naturally quirky to be considered 'art rock' and too one-hatstand-short-of-a-Spacehopper mental to be considered novelty. In their heads they truly think they're American. They've actually grown those walrus moustaches. They probably think The X-FILES is a documentary and believe they should be featured on it, having been possessed by the malevolent jester spirit of a Yank Tiger. And when they perform the post-hillbilly drone that is 'The Claw' they actually believe they're trapped in some weird Scooby Doo meets Dukes Of Hazzard nightmare.

It gets weirder. 'Uncle Benson' is essentially 'Nutcase City Limits', the sound of a redneck MARY CHAIN inbreeding; 'Evil Heat' brings some Abba keyboards to the hoedown, complete with 'YMCA' dance moves; and 'Luvly Guy' is a gay anthem in which men are "big cuddly bears" and LOU REED beats BRIAN MOLKO hands down in a Most Shaggable Bloke On Earth poll. Closely followed by MARK E SMITH.

The future of post-TIGER mock-Yankoid comedy pop, then, or possibly ether-giddy music for the discerning Krautrock spaniel. Ruff and ready...

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