The Raveonettes/Har Mar Superstar/Delays/The Duke Spirit : London Astoria

Har Mar reviews the show for us...

Sex was the word at the Astoria tonight. No matter what

your taste, this diverse four-way bill was built to heat up the grey London

February night. The Duke Spirit kicked off the crowded

evening with a lusty wall of noise that will surely earn them a place at the

Royal British rock table. Frontwoman Liela Moss beautifully

moans her way through a slew of future classics from their debut EP,

‘Roll, Spirit, Roll,’ sounding like the missing link

between Nico, Cat Power, and Karen O. The

band shoegaze confidently because they know that their Velvety riffs combined

with the stunning singer’s tambourine hip swagger brings more hot-milkshake

to the yard than Kelis’Rabbit Tickler with a fresh battery


Delays bring their chart-crashing falsetto power pop to

the stage to the delight of all the quivering knees of all the teenage girls

in the front row. The pretty, young Southampton quartet

stormed through an early greatest hits collection that oddly saw two members

in scarves while the drummer found the heat oppressive and went shirtless the

entire time and their fine-tuned guitar pop will deliver many top 10 singles

in the coming years.

Then I, Har Mar, hit the stage with a new intensity

spurned by months of writing, a new backing band, and two hottie dancers.

Dropping three hot new songs – ‘Sex Tape’, ‘DUI’, ‘As

(Seasons)’ – on the people. I descended into the crowd to receive

sips of champagne, two pairs of panties, a [I]KitKat[/I] bar, and lots of

tongue action. On this sweaty Sunday evening I staked the claim to my very

own NME Award Category, [I]Fucking[/I] Best Solo Artist, in hopes of

snatching the gong for existing category, Best Solo Artist.

Finally, the Raveonettes stunned the audience with their

return to the live arena after a two-month relaxation hiatus. We all longed

to climb into bed with Danish stunners Sune Rose and

Sharin as they led us back down the sultry highway that we

so dearly missed. As the band washed us in their gentle, yet loud fog of

thick, atmospheric drones – like a noisy Shangri-Las – the lights mesmerized

and forgave us for all of the dirty thoughts swimming through our heads.

Welcome back Raveonettes, but know that you are to blame

when 1000 London indie girls give birth this November.

Har Mar Superstar