The Californian succeeds, once again, in exposing the ugliness of mankind. It’ll get under your skin
Blood Red Shoes
We join Brighton's brattiest as they stab their long-awaited debut into the heart of Europe. Paradiso, Amsterdam (April 25) and Molotow, Hamburg (April 26)
It’s 10.30pm and inside Molotow’s bubbling belly, Steven approaches his drum stool and yells, “Guten abend Hamburg!” The crowd, not fazed by his thick-tongued ‘re-imagining’ of their language squall back, inches from Laura-Mary. Against this wall of boiling adoration her face may point shyly towards her shoes but her guitar roars undimmed, ripping apart the Polly Harvey megalith of ‘You Bring Me Down’ and putting its elegant boot through Sonic Youth on ‘I Wish I Was Someone Better’. Steven, meanwhile, is doing battle with his kit. Adding his piercing yelps to their dense melange, he only pauses to occasionally puke.
This is blood-and-guts stuff. As ‘I Wish I Was Someone Better’ blows across the tiny room, the chorus digs its nails into the ceiling, hanging over the throng for an eternity alongside the cruel riffs. ‘Take The Weight’ assumes a new literal significance as the front row’s attention turns to trying not to die. As the band come on for a second encore, acquiescing to requests for ‘ADHD’ with a hint of resignation but offering nothing less than psychotic verve, Steve gasps, wiping puke from his mouth, “…next time we play Hamburg, we’re going to get a bigger venue.” Please don’t, this is awesome.
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