NME 3 August 1991|
Emerging slyly from beneath swirling splinters of petulant guitar noise, Richard Farnell's pugilistic bass leaves the
audience as dazed as if they'd been struck about the head with a sackful of Ride EPs. Meanwhile, Marcus Palmer - a man
who must have asked his barber for a 'floppy fringed cushion cut, please' - displays an unhealthy interest in the
anatomy of his microphone, before slipping his whispered vocals lazily over the dissident rumble of the guitar.|
While the bass and drums are well-meshed as a Porsche gearbox, the guitar snaps like a pitbull on a frayed leash, keeping the songs streaming along at a breathless pace. With all systems go, The Suncharms could well be mistaken for Chapterhouse's harder brother after he'd enrolled in the Teenage Fanclub.
'Sparkle', from the, erm, 'Sparkle' EP, is the highlight of the spring-loaded set. Roomier and a damn sight more aggressive than the recorded version, the song shines through the dreary Sheffield night, glittering like Joan Collins in a hall of mirrors.
Flushed with shivering guitars and ether-laden vocals, The Suncharms' sound is very much tied to its time. It's very 'now'. They (generally) avoid the 'band-by-numbers' scenario by using the common currency of the current crop of bands - you know who - and spending it with an altogether more arrogant imagination. The charming men.
|Thanks to Jo Fisher for this clipping.|