I loved them because they understood that boy-boy rock and practising too much and acting all serious and sullen on stage was absolute rot.
I want a little glamour around my presence: glamour is the last thing I possess right now. I don’t know if I’ll ever recapture that mood again.
“Each time we play live we always repeat the magic words ‘punk rock, punk rock’ to each other just to reminds ourselves why we’re here”
Some good old-fashioned stripped-back punk rock from Hackney, on Damaged Goods. And that should be enough recommendation for any of you. That’s all. Over and out.
Initially, I’d dismissed their album Teatime Favourites as flimflam – thin, weedy-sounding, doing for female C86 what countless generations of boys have done for their male counterparts, like Talulah Gosh with all the punk removed – and I still can’t entirely get past quite how much the singer sounds like Amelia, or the drums clatter […]