We Rock Like Girls Don't / The Mutts - Buffalo Bar

The Mutts (pictured) are cursed with a forgettable name but, fortunately for them, they are blessed many times over with that indefinable spirit of rock 'n' roll. They're so good that even that name can be overlooked and, once you've seen them, it'll leap out of future listings and straight into your diary.

They sound like the bastard son of Led Zeppelin and The Ramones. Riffs that we have known and loved, but stripped down and flung back at us. Instantly appealing, and with a genuinely manic singer, Chris Murtagh (an unfeasibly tall, slightly gangly, utter nutter. He plays with the mike stand like it's a toy, and gives one of those performances you tell people about. He rants, he screams and jumps about, but always perfectly in sync with the rest of the band, all moving as one well oiled machine. They have a fantastic energy to them, and that's something that's contagious. You can't fail to have a good time with a band like this in the room and that's what it's all about. You can even find their website here.

Perversely, We Rock Like Girls Don't are blessed with a great name, but very little else. It's not all bad news, though; they are in possession of a fine bass player whose bass lines really drive the music. Lovely, horrible, bowel shaking noises that just seems to come from nowhere. Without her, though, they'd be lost and one day there might be truly great band built around her. There's no sign of that band tonight, however. There's something horribly contrived about We Rock Like Girls Don't, as though they're just copying what they've seen and thought looked cool. There's nothing at all wrong with copying people, as The Mutts proved earlier on, but you have to be comfortable with it, and able to pull it off. We Rock Like Girls Don't manage neither. From time to time, singer tries to pull one of those 'thousand yard stare' moves a la Johnny Rotten et al. The effect, however, is comical rather than menacing. She looks like a supply teacher about to loose control of a particularly rowdy class.

They crash through their tunes in by-the-numbers fashion. They have a single out at the moment, called Rock 'n' Roll Freak that sinks into the forgettable mire of the set. The music itself, apart from the bass, does nothing to you that you'd like it to and just sounds like typically derivative guitar noise churned out by people who think it's easy. There's no soul to them and that's something that the audience picked up on as well. There was no encore. The depressing thing about them is that here we have, in 2004, a band that still thinks ironic T-Shirt slogans are, you know, cool or something. Unless that's supposed to be ironic as well, but it's so hard to tell that you just don't care. NME thinks they are a '...furious girl band'. On the evidence presented here tonight, NME would shit in its pants if it ever came within five miles of a really furious girl band. Avoid.

Last updated: 19/04/2018 13:32:41

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