Viola Beach’s name will always be synonymous with tragedy, but at least now we have a document of who this band were
Big mouths, bigger tunes
With electroclash but a greying, forgotten line of washing powder chopped out on a toilet cistern and Primal Scream back sipping bourbon in the Rocks Off Saloon, there’s precious few bands around capable of fusing cool, electronic futurism with the attitude to unite ketamine-fulled clubbers and cider-spewing indie kids alike.
That’s the chasm Kasabian presently straddle like a colossus. And as swaggering baggy verse gives way to an unstoppable glam-rock death march of a chorus, ‘Empire’ conjures up visions of the Happy Mondays’ Bez recreated as a marauding metal giant, crushing fleeing pedestrians beneath his polished box-fresh trainers, levelling buildings flat with a pair of massive steel maracas. Let this be a warning to the naysayers. Kasabian: love them or hate them, you just can’t ignore them.
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A heroic blend of radio-friendly guitar pop and bristling disco from the Stockport five-piece named after a pub