There was a time before the Darkness, way back in the late eighties, when Englishmen were able to pretend that they were mean muthas that rode Harleys down Sunset Strip wielding their axes and rocking for the masses. At it’s height we had Ian Astbury of The Cult, or Wolf Child as he liked to be known, convincing us he was a Red Indian with no hint of irony. It may have been ridiculous but ‘Electric’ rocked like a bastard and all was forgiven.
Since it became socially acceptable for buffoons to don catsuits, stand in front of hundreds of Marshall amps and sing like their nuts are in a vice it was inevitable that other bands would follow in their footsteps. 4ft Pimp, from Southend, love their rock. We know this because this, their second EP, is full of huge riffs, trans Atlantic vocals and widdly guitar solos. And they’re very good at it. It is also apparent after a quick glance at their website that they don’t take themselves too seriously.
Which is all well and good but then why should we take them seriously either? There’s the lyrics for example, ‘Justice is delivered by the barrel of a gun’ wails lead singer Dan Turner on ‘Worst Crime Known’. What in Southend? Do the local constabulary know? Are they putting up with this vigilante culture? Or what about ‘we’re living in a shotgun paradise’ on ‘Shotgun Paradise’? Crikey I didn’t realise Essex had gone downhill so rapidly. When not despairing at the obviously rife gun culture in the Home Counties we have ‘Flames burning through the sky / flames asking me why?’ (The Fear of the Unknown) which can only bode ill for Romford.
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Musically the clichés continue. The shadow of Led Zeppelin, Van Halen, Bon Jovi, Whitesnake and Iron Maiden (particularly in the guitar solos) falls heavily across 4ft Pimp. The intro to ‘Hungry?’ is pure Cliff Burton era Metallica and the keyboard solos in ‘Heaven Scent’ reek of Deep Purple. It’s all enthusiastically and proficiently executed and I’m sure it’s a riot down the Dog and Ferret on a Friday night. But it’s all been done before and the bloated rock beast of the late eighties was nearly completely destroyed by a small band you may have heard of called Nirvana. We just don’t need this revival.
So there’s the rub, 4ft Pimp need to decide whether they believe in the rock dream and follow a long line of Englishmen that believed LA was their spiritual home (David Coverdale springs to mind) and go for it. After all the US eats up bands like this, they would have a natural audience waiting for them. Or they take the irony route and follow in the wake of The Darkness (who if there’s any justice in the world will meet their demise in an unfortunate gardening accident). The choice is theirs.
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