Biters tumble on stage as if ejected from a time machine, a mess of feathered hair, urchin faces and tightly trousered, perilously slender legs.
They’re a puzzling proposition, a brilliant rock’n’roll band who write songs that sound like other people’s – So Many Nights is cousin to several Thin Lizzy classics, while Melody For Lovers has a strong whiff of Rick Springfield’s Jessie’s Girl about it – but they compensate for any lack of originality with unfettered enthusiasm and immense, ribald charm. Frontman Tuk seems to single out most members of the audience for individual attention. “I’m gonna climb you like a jungle gym,” he promises, pointing at one attendee. “I love tall women.”
We hear tales of a one-year-old raised on ghetto weed. We listen amazed as he tells the remarkable story of the piss-bottle water park. We’re frankly aghast at the fable of Uncle Alvin and his infamous crack fuck orgy kidnapping. And suddenly Tuk’s swinging upside-down above our heads, dangling from the pipework. It’s some show.
Towards the end, they play something that sounds like the climax to Free Bird performed by AC/DC, and you realise the entire audience are grinning like happily bewildered loons. Then Biters clamber back into their Tardis and head back to 1975. You’d file it under parody if it wasn’t so goddamn good.
