Wheatus/Relish : London Brixton Academy

If you like them then you're a sad twat...

Mmmm! Canned chips! Thanks HL foods! A great idea! And great news for [a]Stereophonics[/a] fans. Obviously. And there’s no doubt that they’ll also love Irish band Relish. Not that they sound anything like [a]Stereophonics[/a], No, they sound like they want to sound like[a]Hellacopters[/a].

While actually sounding like [a]Lenny Kravitz[/a]. With the flu. On a bad day. In Scunthorpe. On a wet Sunday afternoon, In February. They look good, mind. Couple of them sporting mean ‘fros and that. But fuck me they’re boring.

No one could ever accuse [a]Wheatus[/a] of being boring of course. Oh no. They’re far to wacky for that. Crazy singer/guitarist Brendan B Brown is wearing a kilt. The loony. And, look, he’s flashing the audience. What a crazy nutter.

And Phil A. Jimenez (percussion, keyboards, backing vocals, harmonica and acting like a total cunt) is running around like a mad monkey. Look! He’s juggling! Look! He’s eating a banana! Look! He’s making balloon

animal shapes with his scrotum! Look! His scrotal sac has burst and, in a spray of blood, his testes have popped out and have been eaten by a passing fucking dog. Is there no end to his zany madness?

They did ‘Teenage Dirtbag’. Which is a good song. If you like punk lite comedy pop-rock with tediously whiny vocals. They did ‘A Little Respect’. Which is an even better song. Seeing as how it was written by Erasure. And then they did loads and loads of really boring shit. And then (God help us) Phil A. Jimenez, while unicycling wearing an exploding bowler hat and playing a rubber

trombone, says ” ‘Hey! You guys mind if we play some new stuff tonite!?”

The crazy mutha.

[a]Wheatus[/a] are the musical equivalent of a ‘You Don’t Have To be Mad To Work Here – But It Helps!’ desk sign. They’re the sort of bastards who sent you criminally unfunny e-mails titled ‘The Seven Sorts Of Shits’ with the attached message – “:It’s HILARIOUS! Because it’s TRUE!” And if you like them then you’re a sad twat. It’s as simple as that.

Steven Wells