Lock up your mothers
Outside, crowds of snotty-nosed street urchins peer through the tinted windows of a ‘Bugsy Malone’-style 1948 [I]Humber Pullman[/I] limousine painted with flame effects and skulls. Inside, a singer, unable to actually get off the stage for his traditional bar-clamber, is on his belly on top of the speaker stack doing breast-stroke and pretending to fly like Bananaman. Hey hey, [a]Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster[/a] are in town, stopping traffic and hearts in equal measure, watching the Matchbox Mania virus spread like raging wildfire. And if they get to have intercourse with your mum while they’re at it, that’s a bonus.
Make no mistake, TEMBD are by far the best new band in Britain today. Touting the frankly [I]incredible[/I] ten-tracks-in-25-minutes Debut Album Of The Year in ‘Horse Of The Dog’, they’re digging up the raw roots of dark-soul riot rock and smearing the dirt across their cheeks as warpaint. The likes of ‘Celebrate Your Mother’ and new track ‘Psychosis Safari’ (gunning to be the first song to get the line “[I]My mind’s in a furry cup[/I]” on [I]TOTP[/I]) have awoken MTV and the nation to the brittle and barbaric tunefulness roaring at the core of these Mohican’d maniacs.
From the tribal deathabilly barrage of ‘Chicken’ to Guy McKnight’s dying orc howls on ‘Fish Fingers’, TEMBD are simply an intoxicating planet of sound – a raw and untamed yowl of primal rock bloodlust. Lock up your mothers.