Right Turn Clyde, Cambridge Boat Race, June 2002 by Jessica Holland, The Fly.
Officially Right Turn Clyde are from Southeast England
but really, truly, they were born in the States, where they prowled about
the suburbs, had their collective heart broken by a bleach-blond sophomore
and have been writing perfect guitar pop about it ever since. Dude. They're
Blink 182's cooler big brother with a fondness for The Wildhearts and
the Foo Fighters, and are one of the few bands that justify the existence
of punk-pop as a genre. Around for about a year now, they've managed to
rise above the apathetic local scene due to some killer tunes but mostly
by sheer force of energy, mutant child of great-but-doomed-to-be-forever-ignored-by-record-companies
The Saffs, Buried Trevor and Hofman. But it's the addition of new guitarist
Carlos that just about pushes them over the precipes of "lots of
potential" to a band who seem to be born to be rock'n'roll superheroes.
Spilling over with enthusiasm, they pogo around the stage amidst hook-laden,
stop-start riffs, instinctively catchy choruses and lyrics about fenland
drive-bys and Princess Leia. "Easy Tiger" is the anthem: the
"Monkey Wrench" or "Bleed American" for the kids who
like their candy to explode in their mouth. Enough with the too-cool-to-move
brigade of cheekbones and leather jackets, Right Turn Clyde messily enjoy
every second of the limelight, and it's getting brighter all the time.