THIS REPLICA

BULL & GATE, KENTISH TOWN, LONDON, UK

IRON OF ironies! This Replica don't attempt to replicate any bygone relic or overnight sensation! A veritable powerdrill to the eardrum. the Reps look like the last kids in the squat and make a noise akin to a derelict block collapsing in on itself. That's the good bit.
Amazingly enough, all the extraneous bits are good as well. At its most basic level, this is fierce pop with an angry edge, if that doesn't make them sound too much like The Faith Brothers.
The guitarist on the left is the living embodiment of a f**ed-up frontliner from a Sven Hassel splatter novel, judging by his knackered fatigue jacket or fatigued knacker jacket or whatever they call them these days. His axe matches his image - mad and getting madder, jumping into the riff some with scant concern for self-preservation.
Okay, so one of the songs starts like a Stooges' soundcheck, but Sven Hassel's mate hits a livid new slant when he screams 'vocals' on one 'number' which appears to graphically detail the murder of a young girl.
Depraved, raging. pig-ugly terrorism? You've got it. This Replica are several padded cells short of the full institution.

Simon Williams