Reviews/Press, mirrored here...
11th Jan 2006 at the Metro, Metro Newspaper
By Fliss Collier
THERE ARE LIMITS to theatrics - so the sight of a Bjórk wannabe posing Jesus Christ style whilst wielding what looks like a bottle of cough syrup is a tad on the silly side.
The peroxide-haired, knicker-flashing singer from the rather ill-aptly named Colt (more like Cult of the Ridiculous) is convinced she is a bit bonkers like Bjórk.
So she weeps and screeches her way through her band's dark electro-rock set, extends her arms out to be comforted by random crowd members, and even forces a few terrified strangers into a group hug.
The natural reaction is laughter surely? No, Metro club's audience clap rather wildly. But they are a bizarre bunch of questionable taste, since they largely leg it when The Sailplanes come on.
Thank goodness for The Sailplanes though, for they provide some much needed substance and visceral guitar thrills. There's no Brothers Grimm nightmare play-acting and singing about Christ's blood and scarred wrists for this young London lot.
The Sailplanes are like a baby-toothed Sonic Youth.
The trio - notably lacking in the presence of any bass - are a riotous, string-scraping caper of discord and disarray. But these are songs shot through and through with melody and might. The Kim Gordon / Thurston Moore-esque dynamic of guitarists / singers Stacey and Tim melds with mind-melting noise well.
There is nothing like provocation. At one point, guitar pedals are fiddled with for so long that the crowd get rowdy. There is nothing like a band who place importance on sound effects, though.
The capacity crowd draw tonight, however, appears to be a Reading quartet called The Kicks. Purveyors of soaring, twinkling guitar pop gems with choruses bigger than Rik Waller's underpants, The Kicks reject noise in favour of pure old-fashioned song-writing.
They might not break the mold, since they do not push any genre boundaries, but there is a crackle of electric Knowing in the air. A knowing that a band clutching such an array of anthems mot seen since Oasis were actually good, coupled with the possession of this much energy and absolute presence, are set to do big things.
This was a showcase night, then, of extremes and variety, something that Club Blow Up at Metro's has a knack for doing so expertly.