On his Wikipedia entry Jay Reatard is described as being ‘prolific’.

This show is proof that quantity isn’t the same thing as quality. Based on the set tonight, his lyrics need some work as well.

Reatard’s songs are based on a common structure; heavy intro, followed by a verse, then the chorus (in which lies the title of the song) which is shouted a lot of times before the whole thing comes to a crashing halt. The bassist rocks his head in and out of time ferociously. There is no respite. Jay brings out an acoustic guitar mid-set. By the end it had only three strings. You get the picture.

The crowd initially seemed taken aback by the raw savagery of the display, and the band quickly cottoned on to this, berating the audience for being ‘boring f*cks’. Credit to them, they soon moshed accordingly. Unfortunately, that dismissive attitude towards the paying public may work in Middle America, but on a cold Wednesday night in Central London it doesn’t translate well.

That said, there is no denying the honesty of Jay and his cohorts, perfectly demonstrated by set closer ‘Screaming Hand’, and the passion of their delivery sees them end the evening close to keeling over through exhaustion. They truly mean it.

There’s no denying they make a great wall of sound for a three-piece, and if I had been down the front (and drunk) it might have have been monumental. But I wasn’t. Maybe next time.

Richard Bowes
Photo: Rachel Lipsitz