Blood Valley

London has brought us the finest punks ever in the Sex Pistols as well as churning out future mega-punks of yore in The Libertines. Add Blood Valley to that list. At your peril. These hackneyed Hackney scoundrels thrust their fiery temperament and a highly combustible punk racket right at your head. Twice. But not thrice for then they may be mistaken for a crap American emo band.

The massive and highly excitable Alex Lindsay stalks and climbs the stage and squawks his evil goth dirge over a glammed-up soundtrack that bears no _resemblance to glitter but plenty of nods toward The Damned _et al. With a bassist who constantly threatens to rip a seam in those mighty tight trunks of his, a tank-topped, afroed guitarist and a mentalist drummer with a mighty fine set of (fearsome) gnashers on him this is _NOT _the kind of band you want to go watch while having a quiet drink from the short back or sides.

You gotta get crazy or the crazies come get you.