The Black Lips

+ Chevau, Sticks

Kings College Student Union, London - 15 May 2008

by Lisa Holmes

Welcome to the moustachioed Georgian gentlemen's club

"The visual effects are equally dirty with handfuls of crawling earthworms projected across the stage. It suits the music perfectly"

Picture Jason Anfinsen


Support act Chevau are the ultimate anti-fashion crusaders; the Parisians' torrent of noise treads a fine line between ramshackle tunefulness and uncomfortable social taboo and sees their vocalist groaning: “Please, Daddy, don’t make me touch it.”

In fact the whole evening is defined by a distinct anti-cool: stained t-shirts, handlebar moustaches and plaid shirts aplenty.

The Black Lips' aggressive rock and roll gets the party started properly as from the opening chords of ‘O’Katrina’ the beer starts flying – as do the people. Three out of the four band members contribute to the vocals (the drummer has possibly the best voice of all of them), demonstrating that despite appearances to the contrary, these boys have talent in spades. Success hasn’t come quick for the Atlantans but with the release of fourth album ‘Good, Bad, Not Evil’ and a crazy week at SXSW 2007, their gonzo countrified punk has exploded worldwide in a hail of vomit, piss and gobbing (apparently they are going for a more mature look at the moment).

Cole Alexander springs from microphone to microphone, playing guitar on the floor one minute, looking like he’s about to lead a limbo competition the next. All this interspersed with launching the odd spit ball four feet in the air and catching it in his gaping gob. Yummy.

The visual effects are equally dirty with handfuls of crawling earthworms projected across the stage. Dirty maybe, but it suits the music perfectly. ‘Veni, Vidi, Vici’ is transformed in to a Lynchian anthem, slowed down and spaced out, but it is the good old fashioned rock and roll that proves to be the feather in the band's cap.

There is no encore but the band remain as serene as Hunter S Thompson on tranquilizers and head straight into the audience for a good old natter. There's been precious little bodily fluid gracing the stage tonight (much to our disappointment) but if mumbling Frenchmen and earthworms tick your boxes then welcome home.

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