London EC1 Aquarium
Imagine [B]Placebo[/B] crossed with the [a]New York Dolls[/a]. I wonder if you can...
What is? Watching [a]Glitterbug[/a], you mug! Who? Dunno, dunno a thing about them. Three skinny proper rock'n'roll geezers with chihuahua-sharp cheekbones, noddy-mod haircuts and west London baaaaad (dude!) attitude... PLUS (and what a difference a dame makes) a not-so-skinny singer of indeterminate sexuality who shakes and shimmies like the young Tina Turner. The chap's a star.
Which is all fine and dandy, but it's the chewns that unwind the spine, crucify the mind and make you smile like a savagely frottaged dolphin. The legs-splayed, flared nostril, mad-eyed chuggalumpa geetar anti-heroics owe more to 'Never Mind The Bollocks' than Boyzone, but the honey-soaked harmonies, the bitter-sweet melodies and the irresistibly catchy and damnably itchy choruses all scream PROPER pop. Imagine Placebo crossed with the New York Dolls. I wonder if you can.
The only problem is everyone's too cool to actually dance, 'cos we're all A&R men these days. It's the modern pop malaise! We're thinking, 'How old are they? Are they thin enough? Is the singer gay? What will my friends say? Is it the drugs and the drink, or do this band really sound like red hot sex on an incredibly sharp stick?' Aw, shut the fuck up! [a]Glitterbug[/a] rule, they will be huge. Count on it.
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