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Marquee,
London The Screaming Blue Messiahs rounded up a year spent supporting Bowie and bashing American eardrums by going back to where they started – turning clubs into steamy pits where sweaty bodies squelch together while drumming up an explosive cocktail of thrashing guitars and deranged vocals. Bill Carter would be the first in the van if the men in white coats came to town. A bald, sweating hulk, he spits out every word, propelling pent-up distress and babbling mad visions, while guitarist Carter has little time for the intricacies of fine guitar playing. What looks like senseless assault on a helpless instrument emerges from the amplifier note perfect. The Messiahs belted out the majority of their latest LP, 'Bikini Red'. 'Jesus Chrysler Drives A Dodge' sounds like Big Country on acid while, with the album's title track, they creep towards Mary Chain country. They made us wait for 'Good And Gone' and 'Tracking The Dog', arguably their finest moments. The latter proves that they could teach ZZ Top a thing or two. All the Messiahs lack is variety, but when you come to experience a blitzkrieg, you don't ask for a couple of slow songs. Fierce, confused and obstreperous, somehow you can't help but like the Screaming Blue Messiahs. |
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