Another band on the brink of breakthrough courtesy of buttering-up a few industry leeches at South By South West t'other month, The Grates are a similar package to We Are Scientists, Be Your Own PET et al, i.e. they sound a bit like already-popular bands but pack a briefly poisonous twist in their tails. Here, the sole obvious USP is that this trio hail from Australia and not some filthy garage in a scrubby US-of-A city suburb, as their latest 7" certainly suggests.
'Sukkafish', admittedly, isn't exactly garage-rock'n'punkin' by numbers; rather, it's the sound of some out-of-sorts Appalachian seeking solace in stripped-back grunge - a little country twang and a whole lotta buzzsaws. But dare we say it's closer to Alanis and Avril than any punk-cred-intact chanteuse? Yep, we dare. Better is 'Message', a Shampoo-fuck you pop take on any Yeah Yeah Yeahs song clocking in at two minutes max. It's all crashing drums and desperate groans, quick and to the point and absolutely guaranteed to have the Powerful and Influential untangling their knickers for a couple'a days at least.
The Grates, welcome to your fifteen; at least you're not The Subways.
6Mike Diver's Score