>IN THE pre-Britpop olden days, genial entry into hotels was
>greeted by the balmy tonklings of Benny Lightfoot & His
>Banjo Pals and the like. Tonight in the Hilton Hotel, it's 3
>Colours Red's 'Sixty Mile Smile' blaring out at 40,000
>decibels from the radio tuned to Steve Lamacq's Evening
>Session. Take that, greenhouse insulation conference
>managers from Cumbernauld! Over at Creation's Big Night
>Out at the oxygen-free Cathouse, meanwhile, the revolution
>continues with HURRICANE#1, Andy Bell from Ride's
>new combo. Forced to add the curious #1 after protest by
>an indignant DJ Hurricane, they're busy proving themselves,
>from the opening 'The Other Side' onwards, to be purveyors
>of an Oasis homage of absurdly staggering similarity.
>
>Guitars! Noodly 'Slide Away' tempo! Voice! 'Aaar kid' with
>a flagrant Lennon-esque mewl! The rest! Well, it's them! No
>mistake! There are words about dreams and a stand-around
>rawk immobility (apart from Andy) right up until debut love
>letter 'Step Into My World', when the oddly petulant
>Glaswegian mob force new boy Alex Lowe (the first pop
>star in history to come from Scottish hillock - pthrthrtrh! -
>Blairgowrie) to mutter, "This is the last song, as far as we're
>concerned..." This is no talent-free drudgery - their songs, of
>COURSE, are good, their intentions, sound - but the
>question remains, as it must, for Guigsy's sake, WHHHYYY
>BOTHER?
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