Friday 12/05/06 Whirlwind Heat, Neils Children @ KOKO, London

Tight-jean wearing, stupid sunglass-sporting, eyeliner clad Neil’s Children offer no surprises tonight. Hanging on the coat-tails of a hundred other samey London bands, Neils Children are relatively inoffensive – punky bursts of scratchy guitars, punchy basslines and upbeat drum patterns make for a predictably danceable set which drive the kids wild. “You’re ****ing awful” shouts one pissed heckler – not usually the most reliable of critical sources, but tonight, he may have a point. “Yeah …well … you’re the one out there watching us” replies lead singer John Linger. Ooooo good one. ‘Window Shopper’ gets this reviewer’s head momentarily bopping thanks to its catchy drumbeats. In fact, Nikki Sixx look-alike, drummer Brandon Jacobs looks and sounds fantastic, sitting bolt upright on his stall, hardly moving aside from his hands. It’s shame that he decides to open his mouth, “for anyone who came to see another Libertines rip-off, I’m sorry. It’s over!” Replace ‘Libertines’ with nearly any other band and things would be very different, for Neil’s Children ‘rip-off’ (your words) elements of every other image conscious scenester act imaginable. It’s fitting therefore that the band introduce equally catchy, but ultimately unoriginal number, ‘All the Same’. Neil, buy some condoms, we don't need any more.

Matching T-shirts, sequential song names, screeching vocals, tumultuous rock madness – Whirlwind Heat were doing it all while iForward Russia! were still a mere dot on an upside exclamation mark. And tonight, the impossibly cool Moog-chaos-rock Godfathers stamp their authority on the eardrums of their adoring public with a delicious mix of old freak-outs, and new sing-alongs. Sporting identical pure white adidas tracky bottoms, matching trainers, and wonderful red white and blue shirts, David (vocals), Steve (bass) and Brad (drums) are as energetic as ever. David flails around the stage like a rag doll with a firework in its arse, jumping off of speakers, drums, or anything he can clamber onto: Brad adopts a typical heads-down, balls to the wall approach to his drumming this evening, powering his way around his kit like a man possessed: Steve sways side to side as he meanders up and down ferocious basslines, occasionally joining Brad for a bit of impromptu cymbal smashing.

To look at, WWH are a delight. But to listen to, they are, as ever, absolutely mind-shatteringly brilliant. “This is a song about donating sperm” announces Dave as the band burst into ‘Gene Pool Style’ from the new album, ‘Types of Wood’. It’s slightly disturbing to find yourself happily dancing/singing along to a number about wanking into a cup, but the stop/start jerky (ahem) nature of the song is far to infectious to resist. “This next number is from our album ‘Do Rabbits Wonder’ released on XL” … pause … “and then they dropped us” snarls front man Dave as the band fly straight into the wonderfully raucous ‘Blue’.

This deafeningly gorgeous rendition is WWH’s defiant response to whichever idiot made the decision to cross the band off of XL’s Christmas card list. ‘Big Muffed’ basslines, and some of the most complicated drumming you’ll ever see characterize WWH’s older numbers, and have the crowd wobbling about in appreciation. Recent single ‘Regan’ sounds great tonight – played faster live than on record, the single is almost sedate in comparison to WWH’s other numbers, but still has a bassy kick that hits you like a punch the stomach. It is new tracks, ‘Up Tight’ and ‘Air Miami’ that leave ears ringing and smiles firmly etched upon faces this evening, with the former encouraging quite the shout-along, even prompting the normally drum-focused Brad to lift his head briefly and join in with the screams of “Uptight”. Following the release of ‘Types of Wood’ WWH have of late, been criticized for becoming repetitive and samey. As the set wraps up, and David writhes around on the floor like a break-dancer without bones, it’s hard to see why. Jaw-droppingly exciting? As ever. Repetitively boring? Never.