Dirtblonde, Liverpool-based band who takes inspiration from artists such as Sonic Youth, jesus & Mary Chain and Patti Smith, will be coming down to London to bring some good, nasty noise this wednesday, 13th aug.

Dirtblonde plays Goonite @ Buffalo bar with The Tambourines. Doors 9pm, £5

www.dirtblonde.co.uk

Mini-album "White Noise, Rubber Heart" out now on Filthy Little Angels.

"Dirtblonde open proceedings with two prime examples of nasty, primitive garage-punk-pop in the forms of ‘The Hangman’ and ‘Snow White’. So far, so good, but things take a more inventive twist. ‘Call It Art’ is more nuanced with its lone guitar, heartbeat bass drum and lonesome voice intoning ‘I should be getting older / But I can’t’. ‘His Name’ lifts/borrows/steals from Patti Smith’s ‘Horses’ right down to the phrasing – ‘The train keeps coming’ – but it kinda feels like the Raincoats playing homage with its rough, intuitive musicianship. It’s a pretty effective and engaging tribute right down to its play on the ‘Gloria’ section of ‘Horses’, itself a homage to Van Morrison’s Them. ‘You Wanna Be Me’ is good, snotty fun, rough as fuck with a fantastic, simple riff and some caveman drumming, climaxing in a huge, filthy guitar driven ending. Dirtblonde finish off with ‘Teenage Bride’, a Crampsy riff topping off a cool maelstrom of noise along with lyrics straight from the school of Iggy/Psychocandy: ‘Give my eyes / Give my eyes / For a switchblade knife / Down, down, down… Give my life / Give my life / For a teenage bride’, but it’s rather cool, with some nice touches. Dirtblonde’s album starts enjoyably, albeit predictably, enough, but the last four songs are great. Twisted geniuses in the making.

"[Dirtblonde]operate in a twilight world where the canonical bands are not the Beatles or Beach Boys and their heirs but the Cramps, 60s garage punk, The Stooges, Pussy Galore, The Kills, mid 70s New York punk. An imagined place where music can offend and inspire not simply end up as incidental music in a mall or on football highlights. And for this, and their winning ways with the primitive, primeval riff and hook, I salute them. Turn up the treble and pass the amphetamine please!"

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