Spangles or Chips?
Spangles? Despite having an urge for some old-fashioned boiled sweets, and a bag of chips from the get-go (listen and you’ll know why) I managed to hold off the impulse for 30 odd minutes. Well, to be honest it wasn’t difficult to hold off, the music on offer from Sweet FA is as addictive as the thought of a good old bag of salty, vinegary chips
Growing Up?
I was smitten from the first song. “Everybody’s growing up, I’m just growing old”. Too right. Growing up is over-rated. Live for the moment.
The Only One, the delight that is One Good Reason, these songs are worming their way into my consciousness trying to make me believe I’ve known them forever. A few songs in and I’m adding The Spangles to my list of favourite four-to-the-floor rock bands. I’m already compiling a personal “rock/glam/punk” festival line up in my head – The Wildhearts, The Spangles, Idol Dead, Powderkeg, The Main Grains, Backyard Babies, The DeRellas, Psychobabylon, Buckcherry and of course the granddaddy of hard rockin’ glam himself Mr Michael Monroe. And that is just for starters…
Hard Rocking Glam, Pure Punk Power Pop
The Spangles manage to achieve a sound that is an impeccable mix of hard rocking glam and power riffing punk pop. Dirty Pictures is unadulterated deep down and dirty rock’n’roll, a sleazy sound that has seamless synergies with the song sentiments.
Just when I think we’re getting Nita Nitro, the hard riffing starts again for Back on the Meds Again, not letting up for I Don’t Wanna Go and Get Over Yourself. I’ve only heard them once, yet these songs are like old friends.
Hold My Hand is perfectly pure power-pop in the vein of Weezer/Silversun. Absolutely Blissful. How to follow that? Obviously, an ire ridden rant aimed at one Donald J Trump, loading both barrels and letting rip, POTUS rocks like a mothafucka.
Alone, Here We Go Again – song after song, riff after riff, hook after hook, I’m captivated
1,2,3,4…
Fittingly for a song called Ramone, the last song on the album, clocks at 1 min 25 seconds. Riffing along at high speed, ramming in as many Ramones song titles as possible overlaid with a football chant like “Ramone, Ramone, Ramone”, it is a textbook tribute to one of THE perfect pop-punk bands ever. Phew.
Fuck the chips, more Spangles for me.
Thank you sooooo much xxx