Soledad Brothers : London Camden Underworld
Detroit bluesmen bring much-needed chaos to rock zeitgeist
OK, so the Soledad Brothers may be just a bunch of tour-frazzled wrecks holding their set of amphet-blues together by the threads of their sanity. But somewhere within their three-chord trick surges danger, and when it latches on to your reptile brain stem it humps for dear life. 'Handle Song' is Bob Dylan's soul being halted by Beelzebub's customs officers and told to come back when it's cleaned up its act, whereas 'The Elucidator' thrills like the Von Bondies in a bar-fight for the last ever quart of moonshine. Their secret's in the rhythm, and each time the beats kick in another straight-faced cynic is reduced to the status of 'dancing loon'.
Admittedly, there's the odd drawn-out dirge and even applause mid-set for a fucking guitar solo, but Soledad Brothers are prepared to ride solely on the thrill of imminent chaos. Hence, when Johnny Walker drops to his knees in a haze of feedback, his beer-sodden entourage end the show by starting a fight with the crowd. And who wants to see someone play a rock'n'roll show when you can watch Soledad Brothers beat up on one instead?
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