The Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster – Heaven, London – 31/10/10
3/5
By: Josh Daniel
Proper rock gig checklist: Creeping B.O./spilt beer aroma - check. Motley crew of drunk fans - check. Two-fingered salutes from the band to the crowd - check. Duelling guitars – check. Balls-out, snarling menace – check. Guitarist smoothly combining an enthusiastic air kick with the removal of an idiotic fan from the edge of the stage - check. Shit, poncey electro-pop support act - check. Guttural … Wait. Hang on. That didn’t scan... Cue a bemused response from the gathering audience to support act Robots in Disguise. This is the spectre of Halloween manifesting itself in fear-inducing scheduling.
Subsequently, the Eighties Matchbox dudes look more glam-rock than horrorshow, with all their black and white face paint. As their gig commences, the band’s two twitchy guitarists swagger to the shifting rhythms whilst the rest of the boys brood away on what is, outside, a clear Halloween night in central London.
It’s easy to see why Josh Homme has confirmed himself a fan. The performance complements Queens of the Stone Age’s woozy brand of stoner rock a treat, but possesses a solidity of sound and air of sultry confidence that is all their own.
Singer Guy prowls the stage, his raw, apoplectic yelp and melodic twang reminding this ear of an Opeth-like dexterity, but the Eighties Matchbox seem to prefer sticking to the wilder side of things. As another simple drum intro belies the complexities to come, the grooves that appear fleetingly, gone before you have time to get too attached, showcase a band that aren’t afraid to let the rhythm section shine through the impressive but sometimes distracting layer of lead guitars. Don't expect the ballad album anytime soon.
That said, the (slightly) slower songs elicit just as much of a response from the assembled fist-clenched fans, suggesting an all encompassing love for all facets of this talented act. A 6/4 beat here, offbeat drum fills there, and sudden changes of pace allow Eighties Matchbox to near propel themselves into the air with blurred spins, twists, and windmill strums in a way that’s charmingly left of centre.
More vibrant than psychotic, it’s an experience worth making sure you set eyes upon, and a welcome, bloody riposte to the earlier electro doodlings.
Artists in this article: The Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster
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