If there was ever a band conceived with magpie eyes eager for the indie-disco playlist then Neon Plastix are ripping them off. Call me shallow if you like – heck, call me whatever you want, I can’t hear you above this monstrosity of a single – but just look at that name. Doesn’t it just conjure up the pungent whiff of hair gel and cheap fluorescent spirits?
Within seconds of 'Prick Tease’ spewing out of the speakers any such hyper-reactionary thoughts are confirmed, as this is the group chasing a bandwagon that passed through here about ten months ago (there’s one due 2031 if you’re bothered enough to wait), a group of yelping Geek-Pied Eighties revivalists that don’t half smother their songs in a large suffocating dollop of synthetic banality. Not that it’s spoiling much really, the vocals being the sort of Howlin’ Pelle-lite pitch acrobatics with a smattering or irritating “Hah! Hah!” bursts, the guitar work trying desperately to be a raw, sleazy Killers with the archness of Franz but ending up as a nauseating new-wave stodge, and the lyrics, well the clue is in the title (sample: “She’s just a dirty whore…makes me feel so bad I’m searching for a drugstore” - there’s plenty such places in America, I’m led to believe).
And the other two songs here? Much the same I’m afraid. Come back Kaiser Chiefs, all is forgiven...
3Thomas Blatchford's Score