Muse Exeter Cavern Club

Creating a racket which sways from [a]Tricky[/a] to [B]Led Zep[/B] to off-centre [a]Beach Boys[/a] harmonising, the result is only fleetingly seductive...

Whales might be impressive creatures, but there’s always the chance they’re going to end up beached. A problem the band[a]Whale[/a] are currently staring straight in the face. On their first album they were three, now they number six – but unfortunately their new employees all look like Beavis & Butt-head at a Saxon convention.

Centre-stage is shades-wearing ex-actress Cia Soro. Pogoing up and down like an elf, she spends the first half-an-hour singing with all the conviction of Judy Garland, while her band twist from hyper-ironic Deep Purple riffs to the Bowie-hop samples of ‘Hobo Humpin’ Slobo Babe’ (their one and – let’s face it – destined-to-be-only hit).

Creating a racket which sways from Tricky to Led Zep to off-centre Beach Boys harmonising, the result is only fleetingly seductive. The problem is simple: after a while their genre-bashing has all the finesse of Vic & Bob hitting each other in the face with giant saucepans. Desperate for acceptance, Whale‘s eclectic approach smacks of being desperate to please someone. Sadly, they’re currently doing exactly the opposite.