crystal castles, these new puritans, THE teenagers

THE TEENAGERS are first to the stage with their laconic slab of Ramones sized tunes. They’re pleasingly laid back, like a mix tap in Dazed and Confused. Infact, my only complaint would be that they seem to lack the drive to change the tape - even once. Still, they have the man in skinny jeans and lederhosen breaking out into an ironic, Bavarian jig. And like someone once said about the 70’s classic, Kung Fu Fighting, they might be one hit wonders in the making, but what a wonderful hit. THE NEW PURITANS are walking the tightrope tonight. Possibly it’s because of their androgynous basin haircuts. Possibly it’s because of their vacant look of fained disdain. Possibly they’re just one note short of anything even resembling a hook. But regardless, they shout their befuddled chants of agi-pop, and the response is listless applause. It could be high praise or seething contempt - but either way we’re none the wiser, and that’s probably the point. Finally the Canadians arrive - literally swinging from the rafters. CRYSTAL CASTLES inhabit a kingdom of staggering, pill crunching dance chaos. They even have a hyper active Queen, yelping commands as she topples from the drum kit like Love Foxx’s disgraced sister. Best of all, they come armed with enough firepower to uproot the scensters and have pouts crack into riot seeking grins. It’s only a quarter way through the set and already half the crowd are on stage, with the other half are being thrown back by the disgruntled security. From start to finish everything is on the verge of collapse, hurtling forward and crashing through the wall. It’s instantly forgettable and wholeheartedly brilliant. With parties like this, it is no wonder the streets are littered with girls in back to front dresses and off kilter sunglasses. Getting f*cked has never been so fashionable…