Rock’n’roll rioters declare Club NME Luton open
There’s a distinct whiff of the too-good-to-be-true surrounding Glasgow’s Dykeenies. Three brothers and two best mates who deal in panoramic synth-pop that sounds like an even more impassioned Brandon Flowers praying to the great god of reverb from the bottom of the Grand Canyon’s deepest chasm, there’s a nagging suspicion that they’re perhaps a little too perfect.
However, from the self-assured slashes of staccato guitar that usher in debut single ‘New Ideas’ onwards, The Dykeenies are near perfect. Frontman Brian Henderson – all crazed eyes, neurotic twitches and hand-on-heart earnestness – tears through the pounding electro frenzy of ‘The Panic’ (the best ode to an STD you’ll ever hear) with the conviction that pausing for breath is for pussies. When he eventually does exhale, it’s followed by a string of incomprehensible F-bombs delivered in a broad Glaswegian brogue that suggests a career in stand-up comedy is always a viable plan B.
Then there’s the gorgeous ‘Stitches’, a shimmering glitterstorm of U2-esque guitars and scrotehair-tingling string sections. Trust us, when festival season rolls around you’ll be praying for the heavens to open when Henderson bellows, “Still, I adore the taste of rain” at its epic zenith.
Melodic enough for milkmen and sexy enough for dancefloors and suggestive glances, The Dykeenies have all their bases covered. Looks like The Comedy Store will have to wait for now.