London Highbury Garage
...a damn fine rock'n'roll combo if the truth be known...
Oh this is weird. This is fucked. There are a few conventionally dressed modernist yoofs about (baseball caps and baggy pants that show the tops of your brand-name knickers off etc). But they look like continuity errors. Like extras who've wandered onto the set of the wrong retro-yoofkult docu-drama. Oh pity the poor New Bomb Turks - a damn fine rock'n'roll combo if the truth be known - for they have been hailed as saviours by the increasingly sad mohican Morlocks of the International Brotherhood Of Sad Old Punks. Which means that they're utterly buggered. Fucked. Period. Alas!
Which is a weeping shame. Because new songs like 'Automatic Teller' and 'Your Beaten Heart' and 'Wine And Depression' (all from the killer recent album 'Nightmare Scenario') fucken rock. And the old songs like 'Veronica Lake' and 'At Ropes End' and 'Destroy-Oh-Boy!' fucken rock also. And singer Eric Davidson's demented Robin Williams impression rules. And Fatbloke Jim on guitar could do with losing a few pounds and bassist Matt needs a shave and new drummer Sam Brown needs a shave and a haircut (bubble cut perms are so 1986 daaaaaaaaaaarling!) but so what? Eh? When your crowd is composed almost entirely of human waxworks who smell of cobwebs, mothballs and compost?
Davidson tells the retro-klones he loves them. "I love all that 1977, UK, GB whatever shit!" he says. "I love you guys! Even if you are HIPPIES!"
This last word is viciously sneered. But then he laughs and smiles and makes everything alright.
But inside, you can tell, the guy's hurting.
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