The Donnas, Casanovas, Hoggboy -

Prince Of Wales

There are gigs where you feel like you’re witnessing the splitting of the atom or the creation of the wheel, the incendiary nature of the music and performance making it almost too much to bear, and there are gigs that are so transcendently baaad that they’re almost good again, with a total disregard for musicality and delusional lead vocalists so confident of their completely non-existent abilities that you can’t help but be charmed. And then there’s that middle ground: very good gigs, performed by very good bands. But who really wants to see grey when you could have had black or white?

Britain’s Hoggboy shambled onto the stage, wearing their best Reeperbahn-era Beatles jackets, fuck-hair, and disaffected sneers. The fact that they could smoke and play guitar at the same time was initially impressive to Jerry Fords like myself, but the lack of an interesting tune quickly overshadowed any elements of style that could be taken as ‘cool’ in their overlong set.

The Casanovas put in a workmanlike set, bashing out their hits including ’Nasty’, ’10 Outta 10’ and a cover of AC/DC’s ‘Riff Raff’, but something was missing. While Tommy played up to the crowd with his usual mischievous grin, there was no spark, no ‘this-is-something-special’ vibe, just good tunes played really well. That’s okay as long as it doesn’t become standard operating procedure, because The Casanovas are too good to get lazy.

Finally, all the grrls in pink leopard print tube dresses and skull-and-crossbones wristbands and baby-pink Chuck Taylors have something to get excited about when The Donnas stalk onto the stage. These are not the Prom Queens, they’re not even the Homecoming Queens: they’re the cool un-cool girls who’ll jam a gobstopper in your mouth if you bad talk Motley Crue, then steal your lunch money and spend it on Wet ‘n’ Wild nail polish. The Donnas have found their niche and they wear it well, particularly the Frehley-esque Donna R who plays her Gibson with a wild-eyed sideways glance to nowhere in particular, and irrepressible drummer Donna C who slams her ride cymbal with a double-jointed backwards wrist-flick. The band pumped out glorious rock song after fabulous party anthem, pulping the previous boy bands like so many Poindexters, highlights including ‘It’s On The Rocks’, ‘Skintight’ and ‘I Didn’t Like You Anyway’. There’s something slick about their performance on this visit, though, that doesn’t quite ring true, something calculated in their ‘yeah, like, whatever’s. Still, even if the Donnas are just punching their cards, it’s evident that they still love what they’re doing, and that they love rock and roll – and that love of the game was what was missing from the boys’ sets.

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