Monday nights eh? Generally they suck so badly – first day back at work after a weekend of hedonism. So what more do you need to relieve the pain? A gig – not just any of gig but rockabilly trash punks Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster.
However before Brighton’s finest enter the fray, I can’t bypass the marvellous support act – To The Bones. A fresh faced four piece from Bolton who frankly lay waste to a frenetic 30 minute set. It’s a maelstrom of J Mascis’ finest Dinosaur JR riffs whipped into a frenzy with Kurt’s ‘In Utero’. What these boys pull off is the very hard job of not sounding too indie and not too metal, they have juxtaposed the two genres perfectly. Lets not hail them as a new breed of metal cause Rhys Bradley’s riffage is simply too clever to be lumped into metal and a mile away from the jangly indie guitar sound that is currently doing the rounds.
Opener ‘Rex’ blasts your eardrums to a pulp and at times it’s like being pulverised into submission, such is the power of their songs. They have a new EP on the way and from that comes ‘Superock’, which is frankly paranormal and it has one of the catchiest choruses you will hear all year - ‘Rock the fuckin shit out’. Bedwetters these boys aren’t, simply brilliant they are. I don’t get excited about many new bands but these northern upstarts buck the trend. All hail the Bones!!
At 10pm EMBLD enter the fray, to what is a pitiful crowd of around 50 – what is wrong with you Reading???
As a five piece they simply engulf the micro stage, and look somewhat disengaged as a unit – its almost as if they all have their own agenda. It’s a tired look until they crash the doors open with ‘Monsieur Cutts’ off their new album ‘Blood and Fire’. All of a sudden you forget the stage presence and are taken in by the wanton aggression in Guy Mcknight’s lupine howling vocals against the belligerent noisy surf guitar and rumbling blues bass. The pace is relentless and they give us their best single ‘Mister Mental’ and Mcknight decides its time to get amongst the audience and stalk his prey. He is an in your face front man, who never shows any emotion on stage but deliver the goods like a Rocky Marciano’s hammer punch. His vocal range is loose and varied from the banshee wail to the Elvis-esque blues warble. A very underrated vocalist indeed.
They rip through 17 songs in an hour and give us ‘Celebrate Your Mother’, ‘Chicken’ and ‘Psychosis Safari’ for good measure in a crowd punishing set. Their sound is refreshing, taut and urgent whilst being tighter than a Tory party budget.
Its about time they got the recognition they deserve. The time for EMBLD is now so come on Britain, wake the fuck up and breathe in their glorious primeval gob of rock n roll noise!!! For more information you can visit: http://www.myspace.com/eightiesmatchboxblinedisaster
