Reviews

Curse Curse Bang Bang’s excellent recording allows a real live energy to come through; it’s like a hyperactive Talking Heads propped up on bath-tub caffeine tabs.

The Blimp - Curse Curse Bang Bang

The General’s drawl lands somewhere between affected boredom and perplexed squint, unleashing sawn-off scattershot lyrical barbs - at times, they’re intellectually inane, at others, they’re a cluster bomb of scathing droog disdain - while impressively scabrous guitars and Moon-landing drums run amok through ADHD treatment centres.

The vitriolic garage-pop broadsides at society of What’s Your Motivation, I’m Stuck and Why Can’t You Make My Life Simpler churn conventions in a cement mixer before plonking the well-tailored foundations down on top.

While they’ve obviously digested the contents of Nuggets so many times, they can now regurgitate them at will, they also slip and slide through the whole sordid mess in their mod best, like on the scuff-kneed ska swirls of Silly Sausage Want Some.

At times, it gets a tad too self-consciously kooky, their slapdash leftfield leers can provide hazy, wondrously weird moments like surrealist pavement saw, 50cc No Silencer.

In the world of generic indie with its atrocious unplanned birth-rate appetising only to musical tabloids, The Blimp may well be on their way to kick the innate conservatism of many, if not all, musical cliques.

It’s not the greatest new thing to harass your hi-fi but it’s an irreverent quirk, eschewing current trends whilst not being too overdressed for the climate, and one that shouldn’t fail to crossover from the boards to the bars.