 | | Revenge of the Psychotronic Man |
No stranger to deranged legendary shows themselves, Revenge of the Psychotronic Man opened with an ulcerating, gravity-defying gusto with certified seven second classic Vuz Lightyear, before, as guitarist Davey heralds the onslaught, “Rock’n’Rollin’ our faces off”. Maybe it’s impatience while their new album comes out but Wigan’s Hyperjax play their tattoos off. Even without stand-out Where Egos Dare, their ‘Generation X-Rated’ sermons are the best I’ve heard them so far.  | | Hyperjax |
After effortlessly wiping the floor with big names Tiger Army and King Kurt this year, letting The Grit loose as curtain-callers is like tying a red rag on Lemmy, a quart of Jack Daniels to a bull and letting the twain tussle. With yards of ale for larynxes, they slice through a vodka-evaporating set with the force of an ice-hockey team disputing final score. Like good natured bears politely stealing your cornflakes with an ear for a tune the size o’ the toon, Fear And Consumption swaggers into mid-set masterpiece, I Came Out The Womb An Angry **** (featuring Metal style audience splitting sing-a-longs).  | | The Grit (pic: Kerry MacGregor) |
Meanwhile, closing time streetlamp lurch Whoever You Are make this beer-quaffing baton-race a brilliant punk and psychobilly bath in noxious bonhomie that would make the most introverted plead for indulgence. Utterly captivating, with immense stage presence, character, intensity, plus a crafty finesse beneath the stage antics. Tipping the hat of hyperbole aside, this will go down as ‘one of those gigs’. Call it ‘Star Power’ but The Grit possess it in spades, pitchforks, trowels, wheelbarrows and quite possibly flymos too. Phenomenal. The world and his wife await. | 
