That Petrol Emotion (live in Spirit Store, Dundalk)

Review Snapshot:  After a fourteen year break, the temporarily reformed That Petrol Emotion, in front of a capacity audience of one hundred and ten, show that they can still suck diesel.

The Cluas Verdict? 8 out of 10

Full Review:
I've been feeling old and I don't really like it. First off, about a month ago, the nice man on Phantom FM played The Smiths' "William It Was Really Nothing" and then, in a cheery voice that lacked even the merest hint of the necessary gravitas, announced that it first saw the light of day twenty four years ago that very week. I nearly crashed the blummin' car into the wife's planters. Twenty four years!? Are you sure it wasn't only yesterday? And Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now.

Then came the news that, after a fourteen year break, the marvellous That Petrol Emotion were to reform. I remember them first time round too. Those sweaty nights in The New Inn and The Tivoli and The Olympic Ballroom, jumping around like a loon, a selection of my mammy's jumpers tied around my waist, sweating buckets and not a care in the world. Despite the fact that my jumping around like a loon days ended on or about the day that I realised that I could no longer touch my knees, this was one reunion that was not to be missed.

As soon as the band emerge from the Spirit Store's broom cupboard of a dressing room, it's immediately clear that singer Steve Mack has entered into some kind of Faustian pact which promises old Lucifer god knows what, blowjobs and scratchcards probably, if my crumbling body can be persuaded to do all the aging on his behalf. Not for him the middle aged frustrations of finding clothes that look great on the hanger but won't go over your stomach - Mack is as lean as he appears in the images I can just about dredge up from my sepia tinged memory banks. He needs to be, given the ferocity of what follows.

A frequently cited reason for The Petrols' failure to achieve a chart position higher than about a hundred and twelve is that old chestnut – "They were ahead of their time". I never paid much heed to that one back in the day but listening to them now, as the drums shake the room and guitars shred wallpaper and worry the rogue Christmas decorations that still hang from the ceiling in August, I have to concede that there may be something in that. These songs sound as fresh and as vital as they did on the day they were conceived.

And so, with former member and current Undertone John O'Neill looking proudly on, little brother Damien and Co hit the stage running, with a blistering, excoriating version of Chemicrazy's "Blue 2 Black". Ciaran McLaughlin's drums are almost loud enough to signal the start of the one hundred metres Olympic final on the other side of the world, while the guitars square up to one another in a rowdy embrace, like they've been placed in a barrel and pushed off a cliff. Then it's "Gnaw Mark", from the same album, which chugs along on a riffboat of guitars, with an insistent and urgent groove that injects dance potion into the asses of all present.

An early highlight is Manic Pop Thrills' "It's A Good Thing" and indeed it is, while "Big Decision", immediately afterward, has the older and wiser me, who now knows what Health and Safety means, worrying that the bouncing crowd are all going to end up in the laps of the drinkers in the pub downstairs. A few songs later, "Sensitize" reminds me of just how old I am when I turn to my mobile to play it to my wife, whose favourite Petrols' song it is, and discover, with a mixture of amusement and despair, that apart from "Home", the only other entries in my phonebook for that letter are "Health Board" and "Hernia Doc". I nearly give myself another rupture dancing to it. The tiny venue is now a sauna, especially when the closing trio of "Hey Venus", "Abandon" and "Scumsurfin'" have scorched the room, and there are more mile wide smiles than at The Rose of Tralee.

A triumph, then. And you can put in your own references to setting fire to things, flammability and how bright their flame burns here.

Michael O'Hara

More ...

[Read more...]

Cluas Verdict: 3 out of 10

Leonardo, Donatello, Michaelangelo and Raphael star in : The Postman always brings shite.

There comes a time in the life of every music hack when, if he’s doing his job correctly, an outraged punter will be provoked into making the observation that they wouldn’t be at all surprised to discover that the writer of the offending piece was not at the gig at all. I am reminded of this when the envelope containing "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles – Music From The Motion Picture", lands on the mat, and spend much of the next week wondering if it would be possible to do the review without having it defile my CD player.

But my responsibility to Cluas readers weighs heavily upon me, so listen to it I do, and, to be fair, I am pleasantly surprised. But only in the sense that it could have been worse. Of the 14 tracks, 10 sound like Sum 41 doing Green Day covers – In other words perfectly suited to the job of accompanying Leonardo and chums on their pizza fuelled adventures but not necessarily the kind of stuff you’ll find yourself revisiting. The odd ones out are two instrumental pieces, a cover of Ram Jam’s Black Betty and a tune by some one or thing called Pepper which sounds like something that Elvis Costello could knock out in less time than it takes to play.

Not turtle crap then, but I wouldn’t advise you shell out for it all the same.

Michael O'Hara

More ...

[Read more...]

Cluas Verdict: 1 out of 10

First there was "The Best Of". Now there is "The Very Best Of". I'd hate to hear the outtakes.

In this review we shall attempt to disprove the theory that everyone who writes about music is a failed musician. Not me, mister. No sirree. Unless beating out a semi rhythmical tattoo on the steering wheel or playing Satisfaction (I Can't Get No) on the top string of my brother's guitar counts, I have never strummed, plucked, shaken, hit at, tinkled or blown into anything. This is primarily because I am concerned that, were I to attempt to, the result might end up sounding like The Doors. I hate The Doors.

That they continue to be so highly thought of, half a lifetime after they last inflicted an original tune on the world has, in my view, absolutely everything to do with the fact that their singer stiffed the leg at a ridiculously young age. Surely be to all that's holy, it can't be because of the music. Light my Fire, Riders on the Storm, Hello I Love You and People are Strange are all here in all their dirgelike glory, each of them more aimless and tuneless and filled with Jimbo Morrison's bad poetry than the last. Truly, this is the kind of stuff that would have the "You're a Star" judges rushing to the nearest internet cafe, yelling "Google me a recruitment website, hold the coffee" quicker than you can say "There's a killer on the road - His brain is squirming like a toad"

For the cloth eared and the drug addled only.

Michael O'Hara

 To buy a new or (very reasonably priced) 2nd hand copy of this album on Amazon just click here.

More ...

[Read more...]