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+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+- +-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+- How do bass lines so crushing, guitars so caustic and drums so explosively wired manage to fit into this tiny case, or on this thin innocuous looking line of oxide? How do lyrics bitter and biting, crooned like The Birthday Party giving etiquette lessons to The Fall's Mark E Smith, not instantly and irredeemably set fire to the whole house, let alone the tape player?
If you're old school enough to have such a crazy contraption, insert the tape carefully and stand well clear as snarly punky garage rock brilliance threatens to snare the machine and then your brain. Yes it's chaotic, it's messy, it's just millimetres from collapsing in on itself in a ramshackle Gallon Drunk sludge, but thanks to the impassioned execution and immense production, you can hear what are fast becoming brilliantly crafted songs hoisting their way out. And then dancing. If there's any justice, Kikker are a band whose (big) time is coming. Soon.
This is becoming more and more evident live too, with recent magnificently madcap sets being rapturously received. How does six feet ten lead singer Jacob manage to squeeze the modestly mesmerising wildness of his self disparaging stage antics into the parameters of being in a pop band? And then, potentially, the spokesperson for a generation, forging alternative anti-anthems for those sick of a world careering through endless economic and climate crisis, war, racism and repressive, reactionary ridiculousness. “I want to go out Tory bashing, and I wanna fight a Fascist” Help let this be huge, help let this be true! Listen here, catch them live and then give them the keys to our stifling asylum. Time to break out of boxes and on to something bigger. Rosey R*E*P*E*A*T
In an exploding box.
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