Phonology

    After a Led Zep lite, Suedette support by Hoggboy, Electric Six take to the stage in a blue light. Accompanied by a gospel mumbo jumble the six piece band are cocksure and ready to rumble. Living up to their Wildbunch reputation vocalist (Dick Valentine) is happy to announce that he's hammered, losing it, and in need of a day off. Not an encouraging start, whatever way you like to look at it.
   
    True to their title, the band actually is a six piece, with leanings toward white boy funk meshed with twangy stadium rawk. Valentine, very much the centrepiece of the band, tries to be cool and charismatic, but ends up looking faintly ridiculous. His stage persona is so much of an act that it's difficult to keep it going. However, the crowd lap it up, moshing to Naked Pictures (of your Mother), while drummer Percussion World (yes, that's what they call him) bangs away dismally. Valentine's headbanging looks rather like Kermit the frog.

    The camp fun you hear on an Electric Six record is all but lost. Valentine's diction is less tortuous live than on record and to be honest, he enunciates so clearly that your mother might approve. The falsetto vocals are weak and tired sounding, and only Johnny Na$hinal's twangy guitar rings true in songs like Gaybar and Danger! High Voltage! Everything sounds muddier, heavier and saggier than you might have hoped. There's cowbells on that drum kit, but the disco flavour only shines through for seconds at a time. By the encore of Radio GaGa, both the sea of clapping hands and the band are just going through the motions. All interest and groove is lost in a swamp of cock rock.

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