Comanechi

White Heat must have spaffed their pants when they tripped over Comanechi; a band so pretty they’d have been all over The Face if it wasn’t so… over; instead they must make do with taps from Revolution and i-D. Tough break. And then, of course, you have the real alternative press going equally bananas over the duo. Word is they can do no wrong.

If sex is what sells - and it is - Comanechi are looking the devil in the eye. Their pop songs are teasingly-titled (‘Naked’, ‘Rude’), while the themes, approached with a pre-pubescent naïvety, do hopscotch on that line you should never cross. Just look at the racy cover of their newest single and know: they’re playing you.

A guy from the row behind sniggers between songs, “Can’t play, can’t sing… let’s form a band.” But anyone can sing. Why bother when, like Akiko, you can spit and howl like a cavewoman giving life, right on top of those dumb, dense Sabbath riffs that send shivers zinging down your spine? Yeah, they’ve heard a few Babes In Toyland records, but this is different. This is now.

Pretty they may be, but Comanechi rage like they’ve been thrown down a well for 15 years and have come back, hair over face, to rain down bloody revenge. This band does not suck.

Photo by Neil Stoddart