Yahoo! Music Album Review

Released on 07/10/2002
Label: V2

The response of the average Kiwi music fan to the sudden hysteria that's blown up around the riff-heavy garage rock of The Datsuns has been: "Why them? There's dozens of bands over here who play exactly the same kind of driving AC/DC meets The Stooges schtick. Why pick this lot?" It's a good question and not one, as you might suspect, that's inspired entirely by envy.

The simple truth about The Datsuns is that there's a band headbanging their way through the self same moves in your town. You know the drill. Lanky heartthrob hair and charity shop cords and ts. Riffs that sound like they were dredged from a particularly murky gravel pit, equal parts Antipodean heroes like The Saints and The Scientists and European/American rock'n'roll fantatics like Thin Lizzy and Mudhoney. Lyrics about "bad women" who've "done them wrong" for some reason or other. The odd cowbell here and there.

So why The Datsuns and not, say, The Sonic Superchargers (straight outta Swindon, riddled with heavy metal psychosis, man!)? Because the Cambridge, New Zealand four-piece are driven by two oft overlooked virtues. One, the confidence of the truly inspired, the tunnel-vision that leads you to believe that not only is it 1969 in your head, it's 1969 outside as well. And has been for several years. Two, a little discussed element in sludge rock circles called sheer songwriting talent. These boys rewrite the classics like never before.

You've heard this album before then, but it's never sounded quite this crazed and pressed for time. 'MF From Hell' (and yes, that is motherf*cker - what else?) barrels along on a riff hewn from the Mount Rushmore of rock cliché, with Dolf De Datsun screaming like Jack White discovering his first power chord. 'Harmonic Generator' welds sardonic girl group suss with Crampsian bodyjerks. 'What Would I Know' summons up the spirit of Phil Lynott with hairshaking melodramatics. It's all completely familiar, but never tired or lacking in strung out entertainment. Not so much a cheap trick, then, as a miraculous one.

    by Ian Watson