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Neurotic Swingers French Fries, Guillotines, and Love Dead Beat __________________________________________________ |
 The Swingers
squelch out delirious, fevered, slabs of
loose limbed and louche Punk'n'Roll from spots that are like the shells in
the Alien films, unleashing and nurturing these beasts of beat until they
become grimy subway scavengers, sustaining themselves on scraps pilfered
from the putrefied remains of long gone heroes - The Clash, The Boys,
Johnny Thunders, early Damned, The Undertones (albeit a particularly
virulent strain), Generation X and so on - and more recent short-lived
stalwarts like The Yo-Yo's. The slippery, muddy sound is so in your face
it's right between your eyes, ya bastid, like a mother fucker indeed. You
can hear the strings scrape n scratch n sniff your girlfriends knickers,
it's so biblious, bilious and brazen in its desire to berate your
ears...like you've got your head stuck in a speaker cab while a lissom Les
Paul lasciviously licks its way up your legs, but you don't know whether
it's gonna kiss or bite. Stand-outs are the staggering, spasticated
psychobilly soundtrack to falling about in Cuban heels or creepers
(whatever your footwear fetish - mines both of em) of 'Speed Drinker', the Ramones
/ Thee Michelle Gun Elephant slam-dunking sprint of 'Party
Killer', The Clash-tastic 'I'm Just Losing My Soul', 'Night Riders', and
'Straight' which, in slowing down the full throttle tilt a wee bit reminds
me of Dead Beat labelmates the High Beams, it having more of a
Dead Boys
lurch and lech in the gutter spirit than the Boys type noisy blistered pop
of 'Go Back Home'. Which isn't a snide knockback to end with,
because I fucking
love The Boys. So there we are.__________________________________________________ |
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-Stu Gibson |