Distophia

Oh** Distophia, I could count the ways in which I love thee, but I would be here all week. I could point readers to my gushing review from January, but it really doesn’t do thee justice. I could throw around comparisons like **Urusei Yatsura-but-better or Sonic Youth-with-the-pop-sensibilties-of-Ash, but there’s no way anyone would really get it.

Not, that is, unless you see them live.

Distophia are one of those unspeakably rare bands that never have a bad gig. Every time I see them they get better and, just when you think there’s a limit to how good one bunch of scrawny rock kids can be, even better… it’s almost too much fun jumping up and down in the audience at one of their shows. You just want to rip off your tight sweater and jump up on stage and yell “Joanne, Joanne, Joaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnne!!!” over and over again until your lungs explode and the bouncers haul you away, grinning insanely while you choke on your own blood.

If normal humans could come up with guitar thrashing that sounds so fucking blistering and choons like ‘Robert Redford’ and ‘Cats Of Brazil’ that chiselled into your brain so efficiently that you can’t remember your own name for hours, then the world would be a dangerous place. Make no mistake, this is a rare talent.

Last night, I saw a bunch of rubbish Libertines-wannabes strop off stage after one shit song and I lost faith in live music. Tonight, I had an epiphany. You scenesters that are clogging up London with your spoilt-rich-kid strops and Morrissey songbooks better get ready, cos if your fans ever get to see this show they’re gonna lynch you for the vacuous chancers you are. And not a moment too soon.