REVIEW: The Coathangers @London Moth Club.

rattlemag
May 12, 2016
3 min read

It's no new observation that the punk music genre has more sub categories than the ocean has shades of blue, but you'd be hard pressed to squeeze Atlanta band 'The Coathangers' into just one of these. That's because quite frankly, The Coathangers don't care for rules. They are a band of fun loving footloose flouters whose sui generis delivery guarantees that you won't forget them in a hurry. Tonight these southern rebels have packed one of London's most unassuming music clubs, The Moth, to the rafters, on the hottest night of the year so far - and there is little doubt that they are ready to put on a show.

Rumour has it that the band was fittingly conceived on the basis of humour, and not from any real intention of becoming a solid group. However since being invited to open for 'The Hiss' in 2006, the band quickly ascertained a cult following off the back of their emphatically entertaining performance merit. They have become what can only be described as a bowing testimony to what can happen when a genuine taste for the thrill of art outweighs all greed and accolade. Thus far the band are the proud purveyors of 5 studio albums including the critically acknowledged 'Suck My Shirt' and its most current successor 'Nosebleed Weekend'. They also sell band aids at their merch stand.

The crowd is body to body in an ageless sea of studded vests, bubblegum bright hair and neon t-shirts, an apt induction to the vein of their awaited headliners, who gleefully flip the bird to the expectation of practiced humility by appearing on stage also sporting their own vividly coloured t-shirts. With the drive and peaked urgency of an ambulance siren they plow into their first number - the popular 'Watch Your Back', published on 2015's 7" split with Black Lips.

From here on out they show no signs of slowing down and manage to fit an impressive setlist, almost 20 songs long and spanning all 5 albums, into a relatively short period of time. Or perhaps the crowd, myself included, found themselves having such a bemusing amount of fun that we just did not notice the clock pass us by. That is certainly what the oddly angled appeal of the trio appears to flaunt the loudest. They are un-apologetically churning out a sound and anti-aesthetic that should be hard to digest but is somehow drunkenly addictive. The imprecision in their instrumental dispatch and generally coy corrigenda make for deliciously off kilter fruition. Deeper into the set they commandeer the element of surprise and impression further still, as they frequently swap roles, allowing us to see the girls interchangeable talent as they slingshot with ease from mastering the drums, to playing guitar and then to taking centre stage with the vocals. Main drummer Stephanie Luke's true to colour husky rock and roll vocals earn her the respective stage name 'Rusty Coathanger', and are a consistent and attractive contrast to the nasally treble of band mates Julia 'Crook Kid' Kugel (vocals and guitar) and Meredith 'Minnie' Franco (bass). It is primarily Kugel's vocals that lend the clarion clarity to the title term 'nosebleed weekend', a mischievous show woman capable of some prominent pitch and often reminiscent of a doe eyed cartoon character throwing a tantrum.

In a halo of sweat and somewhat garish low level lighting The Coathangers bleed the reasons why they are a deviceful if accidental success. They are noticeably resonant with their fans, who seem happy to obey the hyping bounce housed within jaunty but often brash garage punk freckled by time spent recording in the surf chic of Los Angeles and leaking a tiny wisp of ska. (The band recently helped to re-christen Valentine Recording studios, a legend of North Hollywood which has hosted artists such Burl Ives, Frank Zappa and the Beach Boys. 'Nosebleed Weekend' became the first production out of its doors since 1979). The vivacious threesome think little of employing tactics such as braying horse impressions and the usage of a squeaky toy as an instrument of choice (see the song 'Squeeki Tiki'), nor of blatantly mocking social regard with songs like 'Nestle in my boobies'. The girls are a carnival of the boisterous, cute and bizarre and besides their mordant cultural observations, are blithe to anything besides your surrender to their strident conviviality. It is pleasantly evident that they genuinely enjoy what they put forth. They thrive in being both laid back and radically insane - these girls have a full ball park and they are batting for fun and hitting hard.

Next time they are billed in your town, buy a ticket to the outside of the box and let The Coathangers give you the most enjoyable headache of your life!