Leeds can do football or music, but usually not both. So this year it’s music’s turn. Have you noticed the unfeasibly well dressed A&R scouts getting taxis from Leeds Station to dodgy venues these days? “The Fenton, please”, they wince, “somewhere near the University I think”. They’re not wrong, though. Something is going on in this unfair city.
THE TENNESSEE TRAIN CRASH probably don’t come from Leeds, but along with 40,000 students and a couple of grumpy old music reviewers, they eke out a living on its multicultural streets where tripe grows wild and they cut the coke with shovels fuh t’boiler.
THE TENNESSEE TRAIN CRASH probably don’t have a CD release here either. They definitely don’t have a bass player “Nor do we want one. Nor do we need one.” Spits Hayley. They break things and argue a lot. They lose things and act out Extreme Big Brother in their own time without knowing that’s what they’re auditioning for.
So what’s this demo-like object in my CD player? Three visceral slices of human lust with Lou Reed guitar and Steppenwolf nightmares. Three stabs at a next big thing that would squirt acid on the very idea of a Big Thing. Ha! It’s full of arrogance, confidence and scary sex. Which is fine by me. Sounds like hell on earth for Mark and Alex though. This Hayley sounds like she means it “Slut, Fuck Fight”, is a stuttering, squalling outburst of frustration (male) and contempt (female) which does a pretty good job of kicking my psyche in sensitive places. This is sex as uncomfortable truth, not audience titillation.
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“Magazine” is the crowd pleasing razors and glue job on Run, Run, Run (Velvet Underground) and Born to be Wild (not the Herman Hesse one). It’s loose and shouty and sounds fresh and feisty. “Slut, Fuck Fight” is Hayley’s big number. I marvel at the bloke howling with the ruts and I try not to hear what Hayley is singing. There’s a chilling moment when the drum battering and guitar raucousness stops and our anti-hero is left alone in the mix with his desperation naked before the ice queen. Ouch.
“Lazy Bones” has a new take on the frenzied drumming of the Surfaris’ “Wipe Out”. At 2 minutes 41 seconds, it clocks through four seconds longer than the Surfaris. But it does have a great Blondie-like vocal track and a bigger buzzier guitar too. It’s a monster and would keep the people at the radio station very happy. My recommendation is that you pester some focus group you find yourself in next week and suggest that all young people need to have access to The Tennessee Train Crash. Tell them this would make young voters very happy and reduce the spread of Chlamydia at the same time. A win win situation.
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