Monday 27/03/06 Lorraine, The Motorettes, The Sugars @ Academy 3, Liverpool

One can only presume that the striking staff of local government bodies across the nation are to be joined in their protest tomorrow by the students of Liverpool University, as the way this lot are enjoying themselves there’s no chance any of them will make it to lectures tomorrow. The Sugars seem genuinely taken aback: “We don’t usually get a reception like this!” Matt Bolton gasps, sweeping a brylcreamed lock from his incredulous eyes and back into quiff position. Tonight though, 1 pissed audience + 1 pretty stylish band = a roaring success. To Gigwise, The Sugars are not much more than The Black Keys with added female vocals and a teddy boy on guitar, but in a song as rocking as ‘TV’ they do suggest that they could be more than just another bass-less garage band. Come on, even Jack White is sick of those.

And so, from the ‘50s to the ‘80s we go as Tynemouth three-piece The Motorettes take to the stage looking like extras from 'The Warriors'. To paraphrase the film: can we dig it?  Not really: the trouble with The Motorettes is you can hardly make out a note of their music. We get the harmonies of The Futureheads without any of the melody, while their overdriven guitar tone is fuzzier than Freddie Mercury’s ‘flavour-saver’ top lip. That said, forthcoming single ‘You Gotta Look The Parts’ seems to get this excitable crowd going, and pretty soon there’s a minor riot goin’ on as people start flooding onstage. Watching a pair of liquored-up young mathematicians (well, they’re certainly not dance students anyway) trying and failing to clap in time to the racket is undoubtedly the highlight of The Motorettes’ set.  Unfortunately, security staff have no sense of humour…

 …nor do Lorraine, in truth, though it’s hard not to feel a bit sorry for the Scandinavians as students head out either on the pull or to get fresh air in the cool corridor. Yes, it’s moody stuff, but it’s not without its glacial charm as Ole Gunnar Gundersen and his mates throw shapes over sweeping synths and peals of chiming guitar. The Pet Shop Boys are an obvious comparison, in everything from Ole’s Tennant-esque voice to the fact that Freddie Flintoff ringer and keyboard wizard Paal Myran-Haaland looks, much like his richer counterpart Chris Lowe, a dick in his baseball cap. The songs are definitely there, from the swirling forthcoming debut ‘I Feel It’ to the balladry of ‘She Lives In Gardens’. While the tougher edge of closer ‘Beautiful Thing’ hits home hardest here, it’s difficult to shake the feeling that Lorraine are not totally at home in this environment. At least they can take solace in the fact that bigger, better and more beautiful things await.