The Piccadillys are the kind of group that God invented as an accident while choking on a breakfast of magic mushrooms and peyote. Their very physical presence is endearing, from the enthusiastic rabbit-eyed drummer to the shaggy Neanderthal bassist. To the tunes then, and their setlist is sprinkled with short, sharp powerpop songs that have drunk-appeal singlong choruses, just like back in Ye Olde Days of glam rock. ‘Mystified’ in particular is a fantastic pop song - it’s both maddeningly simple, and cheerily goofy.
Fronting the band is Paul Harvey, who looks a bit like Mick Jagger and quips like Bill Nighy. His off the wall sense of humour relaxes the audience and frees up the band’s small army of bouncy and devoted girls to snake-dance their way around the venue. Meanwhile those songs keep coming - and by the time the band finish with ‘Hugs Are Better than Drugs’, it feels like a highly enjoyable debut album has whored it’s way around the room. The band know how to entertain - and they’re also as tight as a small creature’s ass.
Despite a slight aversion to their tourist snaring name, I’d love to see The Piccadillys make it one day, even if it’s just to prove that rock music can be simultaneously funny and catchy in the Noughties. And if they’re doomed to spend the rest of eternity unsigned, then so what? At least they’ve got their own scene going on - and that’s what it’ll all be about come year zero.
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