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The Windmill, Brixton
Good Friday, 14th April 2017
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Gig Review

The Vivian Girls
Freebutt, Brighton

Article written by Alex S - Jan 20, 2010

Vivian Girls

I wanted to be blown away. I wasn’t, but it was enjoyable nevertheless. Having regularly stood amongst the desolation of an empty Freebutt waiting for something to happen, we mistimed our arrival to find a packed house and the Girls already into their second number. Cue a gig of two halves. Standing behind that enormous fucking pillar you had a choice - watch tattooed bassist Kickball Kate to the right or nod along to Cassie Ramone on lead on the left. Who knows if drummer Ali Koehler was even there, but I heard some banging so I’m guessing she was. Ironic that we’d spent too long in the pub reminiscing about such obstacles at footy grounds in the old days only to meet their modern-day counterpart. In future perhaps a small LCD screen could be attached to the far side of the pillar, in an ironic way, of course.

The Vivian Girls play no nonsense punk. This is 1-2-3-4, two minute guitar attacks of the kind first dished up by the Ramones in 1975 (why does everyone over the age of 40 feel the need to reference someone else for Christ sake? – Ed sic). It’s short, brisk, siren guitar interspersed with elemental harmonies that occasionally are hauntingly pretty (The End from second album ‘Everything Goes Wrong’ or Wild Eyes from the first being cases in point). ‘Live’ it felt a little samey, and the atmosphere lacked passion. Exacerbated by the lack of dancing, Kate implored us to ‘jump around a little, have some fun’. But Brighton indie crowds don’t do moist. This clarion call to arms was met by a steely ‘too cool for school’. One particularly nauseating ‘awesome’ aside (bless, they are young) Kate eventually gave up and amused herself with little soundbites to Cassie. I think Sandra Dee nailed the problem. Discussing the lack of interest in Bobby Darin’s acoustic anti-war material she observed, “People hear what they see”. Stripped of his big band orchestra and backing vocalists people couldn’t marry the new songs with the old crooner. I nursed a similar angst watching the Vivian Girls. Whilst enveloped by buzzsaw guitar what we saw was coltish legs, bound chests and smooth skin. It’s a little unsettling.

The big finish was the pulsating, talismanic ‘Tell the World’ followed by the shortest encore in the world; less than two minutes. Then it was into the audience to sell the merchandise and mingle with the crowd. Or in some cases, to sign pictures for lecherous old men. They must be the sweetest punks this side of Brooklyn. I hope they go far.

Links:
http://www.myspace.com/viviangirlsnyc