Mystery Meat

The last time I witnessed the ineffable Mystery Meat, frontman Alex Lindsay was dressed in a vintage white wedding dress and covered in fake blood. As first impressions go, it was pretty much comprehensive, for the Meat deal in rock of the messed-up, heavy, low slung variety. Hell, they’re good at it. Theirs is music played for the simple pleasure of fucking up your eardrums.

The band have been described as ‘a heavier* Ikara Colt’. The truth is, they pull together the best bits from each of their former outfits and rack up the volume for good measure. Former ‘Colt troublemaker Tracy Bellaries looks disarmingly comfortable in the role of lady of metal, pulling off a slew of hammering riffs that aim straight for the nervous system and rarely miss their target. The onslaught of sound is beefed up (no pun intended) by *Beachbuggy’s erstwhile drummer extraordinaire Adrian, while Alex tumbles around the stage pausing only briefly to deliver anecdotes on Burger King and thrash on his long-suffering guitar.

Yes, there’s a song about their X Factor contender of choice (the slightly altered beast ‘Brenda’) which stirs a giggle from the audience, but anyone who’s not won over by the crashing cacophony by this point must be a creature of pretty thick skin. This is rock for rock’s sake, and there ain’t no better place to come from than that.