"Talk to Me" by The Bollweevils
Since putting this together I've realised that the film footage was not taken at the Take Two Club, Attercliffe, Sheffield. It is from Andy Warhol's film "Vinyl" :-)
The Bollweevils played the Take Two 16th June 1988 and the gig was reviewed by Paul Lester in the Melody Maker, June 30th. He wrote:
THE Bollweevils are a spontaneous, combustible thrust and a minor miracle at that. For those of you who consider this new-spangled blonde business to be something to get cantankerous or flabbergasted about, here are several further excuses for flicking the switch to voluntary lapse of reason. Seven pristine, propulsively prickly excursions, dynamically delivered through some typically wired, high-tension electric instruments. Mark Johnson's guitar, for example, fires shards of sheer crystal shimmer into the audience and, of course, beyond. Up and away in fact.
Dave Lloyd plays rhythm as if he couldn't possibly do anything else. That's a compliment. Broadly speaking, it's glamorous. London at night doesn't come into it. Steve is the anchor, man, executing reliably untroubled bass patterns with extreme incaution. It never falls apart, shambolists. Sure, we are looking at razor cuts and ACR shorts. We are, indeed, Up North. No problem, as long as it catches fire as often as this, if it keeps kinetic.
Singer Sarah Griffiths, the group's vivacious implement of euphoria and a hyperdermic needle when it comes to the high notes, exudes ticklish, pink satisfaction and appears genuinely touched by the crowd and their rapturous response. Doubly persuaded, now. Plus, "Mind In Mindless Movie" and "Out Of Time" crackle and bake more in the Maniacs or Muses kitchen than, say, the Miaow or McCarthy cupboard. By "That Little Red-Haired Girl" (the naughty kid sister of "Velocity Girl", the one who messes with make-up and drugs), I've got ecstasy for blood. This must be what electricity tastes like.
The Bollweevils, how do I love thee? I count the ways but get lost during the sixth million. Thrilling stuff and, quite definitely, up where we belong.
Copyright Tartarus Press, 2018