Eighties Matchbox Bline Disaster, Headless, Untitled Musical Project

Paul Deacon 01/08/2006

White Heat tonight is celebrating its 3rd birthday, the night has come along way since its Mayfair inception, much hard work and effort has gone into constantly putting on bands that make the underground scene it is today.

And what better way to celebrate your own night, than by putting on two bands that have signed to the White Heat's own label. Untitled Musical Project a good name? Or a lazy name? Personally I like the ambiguity of it. The three young men wait patiently on stage, and then we are bombarded with a barrage of intense white noise and drumming lunacy. It appears as if the band have been electrocuted. It ends in under a minute. Welcome. Their set consists of much the same intensity throughout without losing itself, fast lyrical phrases force you to listen and observe and the captivating choruses never fail to grab your attention. However what makes your jaw drop and dribble is the sheer passion running through all three of them, they feel and mean every note, uncontrollable body movements. Overtaken by the feedback the bass player is pushed from the stage; they leave, the noise ringing out, the bass player is hurt. It's exhilarating.

Headless are hard-riffing young females apart from the drummer (he is a man). Dressed in appealing black party dresses, people are visibly excited.
Their songs have muted riffs, all out head banging riffs, high end synchronized screeching all pieced together with vocals of the screamy variety and full on rock 'n' roll poses, this band are seriously good and fun to watch (watch the bass player go). The drummer hits hard and direct, no messing around on the high-hat for him: he provides the energy and the band thrive on it. Some of their tunes lack the obvious hook line to remember but hey, they are not The Darkness! It doesn't matter, anyway, the music and band dynamics are the winners with some arrangements to die for. A stage dive to celebrate is the only way they could end.

Tonight to headline we have the mighty Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster. I doubt when they were booked the promoters were expecting them to incite violence, stage dive and generally cause havoc all in the course of the first song. To suggest such a thing would be ridiculous, to actually witness it is beyond words. However, armed with songs about sexual intercourse with your mum you get the inclination that these boys do things a bit differently, and my word they certainly do. I won't dwell on the moments of madness but let's just say it was the most exciting opening song I have seen, so much so I can't even remember what they opened with. Enough; from here on what we get is an angry, pissed off aggressive performance, which of course sounds amazing and adds to the general jovial vibe of the gig. Every tune, as you would expect, rocked. The older songs shone through and were better received. They seemed intent on showing this crowd what they can do, they meant business and did the business - you could see they all had that devilish look in their eyes. The performance, the thrill and the whole unpredictability of it all made it a special night, and it was good to see them on such menacing mischievous form.