Photo by Steve Double.
ROGER HOLLAND gets hot ’n’
bothered over new girlie wonders
TALULAH GOSH
TALULAH GOSH
Brixton Old White Horse
“YESTERDAY I felt so sad…”
“Why?”
“I lost my Pastels badge.”
If we are to have this squeaky twee pop brattishness, and it would appear that there is no escape, then let us at least look for
the silver lining. Let us embrace Talulah Gosh.
Led by Marigold and Pebbles, Talulah Gosh (from the Jodie Foster character in Bugsy Malone, nobody knows where the
missing ‘L’ went), on tape blend young guitars, which half-hustle with an infectious joy, with a bright, wide-eyed innocence
which cannot help but recall the Marine Girls. Live, they stand stock still, smile sweetly and then, with quite the shortest of
backlifts, they blow away your knees…
“We just panic before every gig,” explains Marigold, “and worry that nobody’ll like us if we don’t play flat out. And so I give everyone
a pep talk, going, Punk rock! Punk rock! Just remember, punk rock! Then, we end up sounding like that…”
“And I get very tired!” Drummer Matthew, brother of Marigold and a Ramones fan, butts into the conversation. Which is typical of
Talulah Gosh for they interrupt each other incessantly, falling over one another in their delightful enthusiasm.
PEBBLES from Talulah Gosh: fortunately,
the music isn’t paint-by-numbers…
Tonight, only the evergreen ‘Mmmm He’s So Dreamy’ tempers the hurtling wall of up to three guitars which melts down the pain dance barrier,
sending shards of splintering little girl pop perfection flying like crippling pop shrapnel.
Talulah Gosh have played just five gigs. They have had to pull out of a Primal Scream support because Matthew has to sit his ‘O’ Levels. They
have no time for the wave which is alleged to be Fuzzbox (“They’re horrible, they’re ancient and they’re crap!”) but they love The Pastels
and tell me that they’re in awe of me because I’m a friend of Dan Treacy.
They squabble and they giggle and I like them, because they live on the right side of the line between affected childishness and childlike genius.
And they tell me that when Marigold and Pebbles first met, both were wearing their Pastels badges and their first conversation was:
Marigold: “Can you play guitar?”
Pebbles: “No, but I have got one.”
Marigold: “That’ll do. Do you want to form a band?”
And I believe them, because that’s the sort of person I am, and that’s the sort of band they are.
ROGER HOLLAND