The Juke Joint Pimps, Franco Neon and Psycho Candy live at Halt 2 in Glasgow
Friday night. Just got paid. Need beer and some entertainment. A night called Eruption at the Halt 2? I'll give that a try.
First on was Psycho Candy. Psycho Candy? Wasn't that a song by the Jesus and Mary Chain? This band could certainly make some noise with a rhythm section that was so solid and hard that it could head butt a concrete block. Unfortunately they were let down by a charisma free lead singer who behaved like he wanted to be somewhere else. Like fronting an Oasis covers band, perhaps?
Fortunately, Franco Neon were a whole lot better. In fact they were a bit of a revelation as they launched a selection of embarrassingly commercial and eminently danceable tunes out into an appreciative audience. I felt an overwhelming urge to light up a big cigar and offer them a recording contract on the spot. They were that good.
Talking of good, let's talk about the benefits of private healthcare. You see, there was this burlesque interlude. Interlude, that's a good word for it. Dressed as a nurse, Teniah Twisted took to the stage for a consultation that involved handcuffs, whips and some integral to the plot undressing. You don't get that on the NHS. I checked their website. All in a good cause of course, as she was collecting for a charity. I once thought about becoming a good cause. Think I might try it again. I've got the motivation now.
After a short pause (presumably to mop the sweat from their brows), the Juke Joint Pimps took to the stage. Dressed in white suits and red satin shirts, you just knew that they were going to be pimptastic. They were introduced as blues trash but there was nothing rubbish about their performance. With a clarion call of "Are you ready for the blues?", they launched into a set of hardcore twelve bar blues but seasoned with a downright sleazy lyrical twist. I'm sure Muddy Waters never sang about an accidental encounter with a transsexual but these guys did. Then they went temporarily disco before jumping back on to the gospel train. Nothing could derail these guys as they were 100% here to entertain you.
By the way, ever wonder why they call it 12 bar blues? Because 12 bars is about the right number of drinking establishments for your average guy to visit before being overcome with an overwhelming urge to donate all his money to the girls in the nearest lap dancing club. Woke up this morning. Da-na-da-na. No money in my pocket. Da-na-da-na. Now you know why I've got the blues.
January 30, 2009
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