The Astoria, London 18 April 2004
First up, Pink Grease. I’ve been holding off on reviewing these buggers until I could manage the supreme effort of will that is not being so drunk while watching them that I couldn’t tell whether they were wonderful, or really shit. Happily, I can tell you it’s the former, although they are very, very silly indeed. They look fantastic, like they’re out of a cartoon, or like they should be the backing band in Mike Allred‘s classic comic Red Rocket 7. There’s a guy who looks like one of the Hair Bear Bunch on bass who handles most of the audience interaction, a guy with a really clunky wood-burning analogue soundrack which he twiddles with intently like a mad scientist, and a guy who looks like Bruce Foxton by way of Dexy’s Midnight Runners
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