The Darkness

Tonight's event is like Ultimate Warrior vs The Rock in a WWF showdown; both are muscle-bound, freaked-up beasts of chaos and destruction, but in very different ways. It is very much new school versus the old school. Except that both bands are new to the rock block, and their influences are actually old skool versus even older skool. Confused? Right. Lets go back a few steps.

First on are Sweatmaster, representing the new school of grinding, garage rock. The question is though; are they riding the crest of a wave? Or are they merely and unfortunately being dragged in the undertow of a clamour for post Strokes-Datsuns-YYYs-Hives garage supremacy? Recorded evidence suggests that they have a chance of avoiding being stranded on the shore of post-fad desolation: 'I Am A Demon And I Love Rock'n Roll' is currently tune du jour on your favourite London-based alternative music station, and its a prime slice of down n'dirty garage evilness. Essentially all the qualities that they fail to show tonight. For all their riff-mongering exuberance, they fail to connect, or provide any reason why we should worship at their knees over any other Scandinavian import. This is not to say that they are all bad; they have some fine chord sequences and their Nick Oliviera-alike bassist (bald pate, lengthy goatee, mad as tits) is definitely a rock hero cast in the mould of the greats. But unfortunately they're stuck in rock purgatory, cos the Devil's holding back the best tunes on them.

The Darkness however, represent the corner of the Ultimate Warrior. An unreconstructed band based around spectacle, might and pure testosterone-filled energy. My only regret is that I wore my AC/DC t-shirt the night before, cos boy, if it has a spiritual home, it's in the Highbury Garage on this night. This is heavy metal/hard rock/whatever you want to call it in its purest form; stripped of its past misguidance and leading it back the arena of pure unadulterated joy.

It takes roughly 0.24 seconds for singer Justin Hawkins to remove anything that that was previously concealing his chest. Y'see, this is music to beat your breast to, not your woman. Its beyond the awful dark ages of men in leather jackets drinking cider, its an update of a genre that seemed hopelessly adrift, which has been dragged into the future with its vital organs intact. A lean, mean, Satan loving, Jesus hugging rock machine. Marvel! as Justin slays the crowd in an hysterically camp, but note-perfect Freddie Mercury falsetto while his band hammer out big-assed boogie monsters straight out of the AC/DC "How To Rock" manual (thanks www.thedarknessrock.co.uk, nice quote). Cheer! As the band leads you into a ballad, only to realise that 'ballad' still means 'spawn of the ghost of giant rock past'. It all ends on their signature tune 'Love On The Rocks With No Ice', a tune that is as big as it is clever sounding. Have I mentioned Justin's brother, lead guitarist Dan? To quote the band themselves, "I'm white hot," says Justin, "but he's shit hot". And yes that means very, very good.

Rock with brains and balls? I mean, what can stop this band? Well perhaps the next garage rock band that barges them out of the queue for record label appreciation, but that'll pass. Form, my tune-loving friends, is temporary. Class is permanent.