Fact #165632
When:
Short story:
The Stray Cats play at The Greyhound, Fulham, London, England, UK, Europe.Full article:
Johnny Black (reviewer, New Music News) : I looked up, fairly certain that Concorde was landing on the roof of the Greyhound, Fulham. All that noise just couldn’t be coming from the skinny kid onstage with his hollow-bodied electric guitar.
In all, there are three skinny kids ranged along the front of the stage and they look like they wanna be mean, mean and mean in that order. Stage centre is a black boiler suit topped by a gravity-defying shock of blond hair: Brian Setzer, guitar, vocals, 19. Stage left, dwarfed by his upright bass, is an 80s Dead End kid, slapping it for all he’s worth: Lee Rocker, double bass, vocals, 18. Stage right, dancing all around the sparsest drumkit I’ve ever seen, arms flailing and thrashing like he majored in the Pete Townshend Academy of Percussion, is an ultra-coiffed stick insect: Slim Jim, drums, vocals, 18.
Four weeks ago they arrived here from New York where their future looked dim. In London it still looks dim, but at least this is somewhere else. My first reaction on seeing them take the stage was, ‘Oh God, teenage rockabilly.’ I headed for the bar but never got there.
The first chord of the first song stopped me. I looked up. Concorde was not landing. Brian Setzer led his emaciated little trio into a string of musical outrages which nodded briefly towards rockabilly, country, punk, blues and good ole rock’n’roll, but never settled anywhere. Presley, Cochran, Holly and a host of more esoteric images unfolded from the stage. Songs like There’s A Rumble In Brighton Tonight, Fishnet Stockings, Ubangi Stomp and, amazingly, The Supremes’ You Can’t Hurry Love pulled the small audience forward and, halfway into the set, the applause was almost as deafening as the music.
As a frontman, Setzer is a mesmeric little runt who smiles only once in a dozen numbers. During What’s The Matter With Me? (‘We just wrote this song, like, yesterday.’) I suddenly realize he can sing. From the start he’s in control, barking commands to their soundman who responds at once.
Lee Rocker (Oh, really?) seems to produce notes from his double bass without even touching it. I always thought of the double bass as a rhythmic thumping device, but this street brat makes it an instrument of infinite subtlety. It’s even in tune.
Slim Jim plays his kit from every imaginable angle, in front, on top, both sides, and never misses a beat. Lee risks a slipped disc by picking up his massive bass and playing it like a guitar.
I once heard an old bluesman say, ‘Loud? You can play loud as long you play good.’ Stray Cats play good and loud and quit the stage to faintly surprised but thunderous applause. For the encore, Slim Jim somersaults back onto the boards and Lee plays with his feet. Feedback lives. Two encores and it’s over.
This could be the greatest rock’n’roll band in the world. It isn’t, but it could be. Whatever you do, don’t take my word for it. See for yourselves.
(Source : The Black Archives)
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In all, there are three skinny kids ranged along the front of the stage and they look like they wanna be mean, mean and mean in that order. Stage centre is a black boiler suit topped by a gravity-defying shock of blond hair: Brian Setzer, guitar, vocals, 19. Stage left, dwarfed by his upright bass, is an 80s Dead End kid, slapping it for all he’s worth: Lee Rocker, double bass, vocals, 18. Stage right, dancing all around the sparsest drumkit I’ve ever seen, arms flailing and thrashing like he majored in the Pete Townshend Academy of Percussion, is an ultra-coiffed stick insect: Slim Jim, drums, vocals, 18.
Four weeks ago they arrived here from New York where their future looked dim. In London it still looks dim, but at least this is somewhere else. My first reaction on seeing them take the stage was, ‘Oh God, teenage rockabilly.’ I headed for the bar but never got there.
The first chord of the first song stopped me. I looked up. Concorde was not landing. Brian Setzer led his emaciated little trio into a string of musical outrages which nodded briefly towards rockabilly, country, punk, blues and good ole rock’n’roll, but never settled anywhere. Presley, Cochran, Holly and a host of more esoteric images unfolded from the stage. Songs like There’s A Rumble In Brighton Tonight, Fishnet Stockings, Ubangi Stomp and, amazingly, The Supremes’ You Can’t Hurry Love pulled the small audience forward and, halfway into the set, the applause was almost as deafening as the music.
As a frontman, Setzer is a mesmeric little runt who smiles only once in a dozen numbers. During What’s The Matter With Me? (‘We just wrote this song, like, yesterday.’) I suddenly realize he can sing. From the start he’s in control, barking commands to their soundman who responds at once.
Lee Rocker (Oh, really?) seems to produce notes from his double bass without even touching it. I always thought of the double bass as a rhythmic thumping device, but this street brat makes it an instrument of infinite subtlety. It’s even in tune.
Slim Jim plays his kit from every imaginable angle, in front, on top, both sides, and never misses a beat. Lee risks a slipped disc by picking up his massive bass and playing it like a guitar.
I once heard an old bluesman say, ‘Loud? You can play loud as long you play good.’ Stray Cats play good and loud and quit the stage to faintly surprised but thunderous applause. For the encore, Slim Jim somersaults back onto the boards and Lee plays with his feet. Feedback lives. Two encores and it’s over.
This could be the greatest rock’n’roll band in the world. It isn’t, but it could be. Whatever you do, don’t take my word for it. See for yourselves.
(Source : The Black Archives)