Be Your Own Pet / Good Shoes

South London four piece Good Shoes are an unassuming lot. If ever there were a band to qualify the validity of their chosen moniker through performance alone it’d be them, as they seem to be preoccupied with looking down towards nothing but the ground, daubed in awkward modesty. As a result, feet must dominate their spectral vision.

‘It’s always the quiet ones’, the token call of mothers who have no better way to justify the hearsay of someone’s introverted son breaking out of suburban routine to become a go-go dancer in an upmarket inner-city hotspot. Similarly, whatever the pent-up feelings brewing in the quiet frames of these Good Shoes lads, musically they explode like fireworks, their choppy guitars the sonic equivalent of watching a circus performer juggle dangerously sharp knives.

Ok, they’re plugging away in a space already occupied by The Futureheads. Yes, they sound like a Paul Epworth dinner offering on a night when he’s not really in the mood to cook, but with these benchmarks of similarity sitting so high in the Quality Music Stakes, none of that really matters. It’s the sound you most love from the sight you least expect. Their already strong following is growing with each show, if they keep it up, why on earth shouldn’t they be huge?

Next, after endless love from all directions, aimed in all orifices of all members (what an image…), Be Your Own Pet have finally arrived on our shores for their first full UK headline tour. They’re crazy! They puke on stage! The new single is under a minute! Watching them perform is kind of like hanging upside down and being spun round and round on the Ripsaw ride at Alton Towers! Whilst being spat at! Let’s all get hyped!

These kids from Nashville kick up a frenzy wherever they go, no one seems to understand it or be in control – least of all them. Even here at The Social, the infamous venue where no one ever moves for fear of looking uncool, lead singer Jemina Pearl’s leering screech motivates the kind of audience hurricane so large that it would leave George Bush stumped on how to react. Ho ho - but let’s not waste time with lame pseudo-political jibes, this lot aren’t here to change the world, save us from the capitalists or plug up the o-zone layer – they’re just having one long party.

So quiet and content sticking up merchandise before the show, once let loose with a microphone Pearl transforms to become the epileptic epicentre of vital human expression, even though the word that carries most clarity through the largely indecipherable lyrics is the triumphantly used ‘Fuck!’ Rolling about in the dirt and spit, it’s like watching her go through a private exorcism – yet it’s all produced in the name of having a good time.

Their album is still not out, but most people seem to be screaming along. Facial expressions range from awe to confusion to unadulterated joy. People even call for requests – “Sure, we can fit in ‘Fire Department’” accommodates the effervescent lead singer.

By the end of former single ‘Damn Damn Leash’ the bar at the front of the stage is bent forward by the surge of pressure their show has inspired. Like an unexplainable force of nature (this one fed on cookies and lots of marijuana), Be Your Own Pet tear through each city and leave a trail of destruction behind them. Be prepared, they could be coming for your town next.

FUTURE GIGS

sorry, we currently have no gigs listed for this act.