Living proof that rock n roll ain’t dead
We all wanna feel like, we all left our mark. Cos everybody wants a star, on Hollywood Boulevard. “Hollywood” – Biters 2017.
Wind the clock back 30 years. MV was 12 years old, and a mate’s big brother handed us a copy of a record called “Appetite For Destruction”. There was a moment, in its second song, just before the solo where rock n roll has never sounded more dangerous. “I see you standing there,” sneers Axl Rose, “you think you’re so cool, why don’t you just…..fuck off.”
Only sporadically since – in 1991 when we saw Skid Row in our first concert for example, or when The Wildhearts were at their peak – has it ever approached those genuinely thrilling and scary heights again.
Which is probably why, just a few short weeks ago this reviewer loved Biters so much. This is not to saddle them with some “the new GnR” epithet. They aren’t. There’s more to do with the 70s glam of Mott The Hoople, Sweet and T-Rex than anything spandex about them, but still the comparisons are valid, because watching them that night, opening for Blackberry Smoke, there was the whiff of the gang about them. The hint that it was likely to end at any second – that it was just as likely that the gig was going to conclude in a fight onstage as a triumph, and palpable danger makes for the best rock n roll.
Enter “The Future Ain’t What It Used To Be”. Their second full length record, and brothers and sisters it is going to put Biters squarely in the major leagues.
They know it too. There’s a cocksure swagger about its 10 songs (in fairness you imagine singer Tuk has a cocksure swagger when he’s pouring his cornflakes in the morning – and he probably does this before he goes to bed too…..) and the huge hooks come courtesy of Scott Stevens, enlisted to help take them to the next level. LA-based Stevens has worked with Shinedown amongst others and he makes sure “……Used To Be” deals in big.
“Let It Roll” soars and that’s just the opener. “Stone Cold Love” is enough to make Marc Bolan purr, “Calling You Home” boasts a filthy guitar riff and a chorus that steamrollers everything in its path, and “Don’t Turn This Good Heart Bad” doesn’t even realise its 2017 yet – instead it’s got a head full of just about every classic rock song ever made and isn’t even slightly bothered that its rifled through the pockets of them all.
That’s the point of Biters. And good Lord they can write a sugar-coated anthem whenever they damn well choose. “Gypsy Rose” is a souped up stomper, “No Stranger To Heartache” is so gleeful it almost dares you to dump them, and if ZZ Top were 40 years younger they’d write “Vulture City” too. Except they don’t need to, Biters exist.
There are a couple of moments of reflection here. The aforementioned “Hollywood” is a piano ballad that wouldn’t be out of place on ”Goodbye Yellow Brick Road”, while the closing “Going Back To Georgia” is a countryfied slice of melancholy that can only be written by those who have truly seen a million faces and rocked them all.
In between these two is one last piece of hedonism, and you imagine everyone here – band and audience alike – gets the fact that it sounds kinda like AC/DC. And no one gives a rat’s ass because Biters are perfect just the way they are.
They don’t want to be original – Christ there was a song on their last album that opined for 1975 – they don’t want to be “post” this or “core” that. The only thing they want to do is write classic rock and do it in three minute chunks. No one on the planet does it better than them right now.
Forget the future not being what it used to be, Biters are the future – and that star on Hollywood Boulevard is on its way.
Rating 9.5/10
