It is a holy thing that from Glasgow’s Saturday night Sunday morning riffsters Sweaty Palms do. As the musical world collapses in on itself and becomes either autotuned mediocrity or a twee flavoured snack for urban rucksackers, they forage the path to glory that can only be found when you gain possession of an overdriven guitar (and probably a stolen guitar at that).
Sweaty Palms have got these shadowy, quasi-political tunes - indeed they have my kitty kats - and they also have that dirty sub Stooges vibe to use as the power that drives “Pretty Poor”. If you don’t get this song then you, my friend, are OLD! Play this hamster LOUD and you will spin off your wheel.
“Love Me”, lurking on the other side, is possessed of a near psychotic playfulness yet this is not a song of sunshine and cuddles with Robbie Houston growling at the reflections of the moon he sees in the pavement puddles. Sing along if you dare but remember that freaks come out at night.
Remember kids – either stay in school or buy a wrap. I’m not sure why that unsavoury character is trying to sell me a sandwich at this time of night but he seems happy in his work. I wonder if he has any low fat mayonnaise?