review archive

The Schla La Las / The Duloks / The Open Mouths / Wolfie – The Fly, 15th February 2007

Tonight it’s chlampagne all round for the launch of the Schlas La Las’ beautifully packaged schleven inch schlingle, out now on Sounds Experience – a shady operation run by the omni-present gig-bothering gentlemen of the Sounds XP internet thing.

First on are Wolfie, a gaggle of flinty eyed girls (and one of them man things on drums) who have some excellent frockage on display and thus immediately win points for cheering up the basement gloom of The Fly. Wolfie’s songs can be: squeaky or squonky or churny or rattley or crashy or battering or crunching or squooshing, maybe all those things at once or maybe something else entirely. There are vocals inna stern Siouxsie-lady goes sugar crazy kind of style. They have a song called ‘Wendy Wack’ which can only be a good thing, especially as it’s a spitting drone-pop car-crash of splendourous noise.

Then there are The Open Mouths who are chock full of rudeness, handclapping glam filth, country sleaze and lusty cabaret snot- pop. Unfortunately, I’m distracted from their ferocious anthems to man-luv by a member of the Sounds XP massive who insists on sniffing my hair whilst pretending to make conversation. Must we throw such filth at, well, me?

The Duloks’ songs are like those sticky burrs that attach themselves to your garments as you gallivant through the undergrowth. There are loads of them, small but perfectly formed, glue-ing themselves into your brain after a single encounter. There’s ‘Bad Vegetarian’ with its “I saw you eat the fish!” refrain and plouffy boum boum synth drum soundz courtesy of Mar; ‘Help I’m Turning Into Mick Jagger!’ which comes complete with singer Mira executing an alarming bum-akimbo M.J. strut; the boombasticly lurid hip thrusting of ‘Boom Boom’, its “secret masturbater” lyric accompanied by an appropriate ‘handjive’ from Mira and ‘(Don't Leave Me In The) Lighthouse’ complete with a ‘moving’ dance sequence. My favourites are the righteously revving ‘Lovelorn Unicorn’ and ‘Star Trail’ with its sprinkly stardust keyboard twinkles.

Aside from those fiendish wee tunes, The Duloks’ U.S.P. is singer, ‘dancer’, prancer and all-round bonkerslady Mira. The girl seems to have had a total self-consciousness bypass which is both good and bad news for the audience. Mira’s stream-of-mentalness buzzed-up babblings are marvellously entertaining, but there’s also the very real chance that she’ll scamper off the stage to ‘engage’ with you, yes YOU. A fact that’s discovered by Neil Sounds Experience who finds himself the object of Mira’s comedy lust. Also, did I mention the outfits? The Duloks always give good outfit, generally based on matching hup hup get those knees up shorts, singlets and knee sock ensembles. They’re kind of like a Sommerfield Le Tigre (a good thing). I loves ‘em.
And so to The Schla La Las who race through their set on pointy heels, occasionally getting them stuck in a grating as they chase their favourite themes of getting out there and having a rockin’ good time, preferably with a few bad boys thrown into the mix. They’re cheerfully shambolic (especially Hannah who’s been refreshing herself mightily) and sounding cheerfully vicious. ‘Gotta Go’ envisions the delightful scenario of “drinking whiskey sours with Johnny Marr” (only when he was in The Smiths, mind, have you seen him these days?) ‘Put Your Guitar Where Your Mouth Is’ careens along on tumbling harmonies with George pulling some classic axe poses. Single ‘1,2,3,4’, (the reason we’re gathered here) is a big–grinning bubblegum paean to going out which flurries round the room ruffling our hair with its rousing rockabilly roliicking. “Oh my God it’s my favourite song!” they sing. We know what they mean and for a moment we’re all spiritually Schlas.
Big dresses, big drinks, killer heels, killer tunes.
[top of page]