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About
a year and a half ago, Italian glam-slammers the
Valentines traveled all the way to the US to play a handful of
east coast dates at dumpy little dives like O’ Briens’ in Allston
Rock City, where I saw ‘em. Now, here’s these barely English-speaking
cats playing second fiddle to Rick Blaze, of all people, in a joint
full of a dozen rockers and another dozen oblivious drunken migrant workers,
and as soon as they plugged in, well, it might as well have been the fuckin’
Accademia Nazionale di Santa Cecilia, because they played it like
there was royalty in the audience. Lead singer Vale had on the
greatest pair of leather pants I’ve ever seen in my life, and she was so
goddamn exuberant, as soon as a new song cranked up, she’d start to pogo,
and wouldn’t stop until the song faded into feedback or a dropped drumstick.
The boys in the band were just as amped, all striking their best Johnny
Thunders and Keith Richards poses, determined to rock the place
to pieces. It was one of the greatest displays of pure rock and roll energy
I’d ever seen, and it was backed up with a killer collection of bouncy
sleaze-pop songs with roaring choruses and dirty guitars. At the time, they
didn’t even have a record out, just a thinly-produced 4 song EP, which
wasn’t even for sale at the gig; but it was obvious then, and even more so
now, that if the Valentines showed up to
blow up like that with a record and PR machine behind ‘em, they’d be a force
to be reckoned with. I dunno what’s happening with ‘em PR-wise (although I
did get this disc, so somebody’s looking out for them), but the
bitchin’, hit-spawning full-length has finally arrived, and it absolutely
lives up to the promise of the live Valentines
experience. It’s richly textured speed rock, deep and moody at times
and in full-on party wrecking mode the rest, influenced just as much by 60’s
Motown girl groups as it is by 70’s
punk. Vale has a rich, throaty voice that goes from punk chirp to
hard rock bellow at will-and a thick Italian accent- which is
a tremendously sexy combination. Ok, so the lyrics are just plain fucked up-
“Now I wear the skin of a bear/Some days I know that I’m so acid- acid/How
hot became my blood”- but she still makes ‘em sound like desperate teenage
come-ons, and the guitars vacillate between Steve Jones strut and “Peter
Gunn” styled spy jazz as if that’s the most sensible move in the
world. Powerpop anthem “I Was Wrong”, also on their demo EP, remains
their most immediate song, a Veruca Salt-y hit in any language, but
new tracks like the dark, stormy “Leave it in Your Hands”, the
frenzied “An Angel’s Gonna Be Here (Tonite)” and the 80’s influenced
noise-pop of “Someday” could just as easily be a-sides on some
hipster label in Seattle, or something. I have professed my adoration for
Italian rock and roll before, and I ain’t changing my mind with this one. “No
Time Generation” is a dizzy Euro-punk blast, and I can’t wait ‘til
they come back and rock us again. Desidera in tensione il Valentines! |