It becomes very difficult indeed to dislike them. That is until the between-song banter. [B]Doyle[/B], indiely slick in impossibly tight, long-sleeved T, says shit like, "Has anyone heard us on the ra
Yum yum. That’s the correct response: mmm-mmm-mmm, yummy for your pop tummy! Yum-dum-diddly-yumptious! A fun and fizzically fanciable new flava. Everyone says so. Yum again. [a]Dum Dums[/a], y’see, come from emteevee heaven; they are the most perfect marriage of indie pop, punky pop and hunky pups since Iggy joined [a]Westlife[/a] tomorrow tea-time.
And, boy, do they know it.
There’s three of them onstage, but it’s cocky guitarist/vocalist Josh Doyle who demands all eyes focus on him. As the four-minute blasts of blistering, jangly guitars (remember those joyous pre-Britpop days, eh kids… and Wedding Present fans?) delightfully melding with Attractions-era Elvis Costello vox hit home, it becomes very difficult indeed to dislike them. That is until the between-song banter.
Doyle, indiely slick in impossibly tight, long-sleeved T, says shit like, “Has anyone heard us on the radio?” (to cheers, and this at an early-doors LA2 show supporting pukey old My Life Story), “Anyone seen us on [I]The Big Breakfast[/I]? I thought Donna Air fancied me, hur hur…” (then he waggles his tongue, suggesting cunnilingus). He goes on to introduce songs “about doing it with people” and “about being on the dole and killing yourself”. Flippant, arrogant, petulant youth that Doyle is, he even claims: “We’re not a boy band, we’re hard rock muthas!”; there’s only so much ‘knowing’ commercialism you can take before you hurl into your combats’ thigh pocket. Ouch.
“This isn’t the song from the radio. That’s too commercial,” quips Doyle of the last song, before whamming into ‘Everything’, the oh-so catchy song from the radio. And we die, floored by an overdose of irony.