In a world pulsating with feverish anticipation, a cosmic tapestry of wonder unfurls right before your very eyes as the Teenage Werewolves descend upon the unsuspecting multitudes!
Inside the hallowed sanctum of Islington Academy, an electric fervour courses through the souls assembled, teetering on the precipice of ecstatic delirium, their essence aglow with the fervent expectation of the impending sonic alchemy.
But wait, dear audience, for the grandeur of the Teenage Werewolves manifests before your very eyes, their foreboding banner foretelling a storm of sound that threatens to engulf all in its path!
...a tearful reunion with a spectre we dearly miss. Amidst the flashes of strobe lights, we catch a glimpse of Lux Interior once more. He breathes, he writhes, he's alive!"
And lo, as if summoned by the very sorcery of rock ‘n’ roll itself, stands the most exalted Jack Atlantis.
Picture, if you will, a figure draped in striking black PVC, his crown a pompadour that defies the very laws of gravity. He, my friends, exudes an enduring, ineffable coolness that sends shivers down the spine of any mortal soul.
Dare I utter the words? It’s as if the spirit of Lux Interior himself has been summoned from the netherworld and transfused into this enigmatic being, Jack Atlantis. A psychedelic aurora envelops him, a swirling vortex of otherworldly coolness that defies description.
And in this moment, dear reader, there is a tearful reunion with a spectre we dearly miss. Amidst the flashes of strobe lights, we catch a glimpse of Lux Interior once more. He breathes, he writhes, he’s alive! Oh, what a testament to their unwavering dedication to a band that was born within the hallowed confines of CBGB’s over four decades ago.
The Cramps, dear friends, their magnetic transcendence endures. To this very day, the ghostly twang of The Cramps resounds loudly and truly on stages and through our TV sets. It’s a haunting melody that reminds us of the immortal power of rock ‘n’ roll, a power that can summon even the spirits of the departed to dance once more in the spotlight.
But brace yourselves, for the inaugural note, an aural supernova, reverberates through the very fabric of our existence, heralding the commencement of a bacchanalian reverie unlike any other! The audience, a tempestuous throng, conjures a frenzied whirlpool of chaos, an untamed maelstrom spiraling into the night. Bewildered onlookers, ensnared in its psychedelic vortex, can only gaze in awe.
Aliken to the fabled lycanthrope, Jack undergoes a transformation upon the consecrated stage. His infectious spirit breathes kaleidoscopic life into the night, infusing the very atmosphere with an otherworldly vitality. His interactions with the audience traverse the spectrum from hilarity to absurdity. His discourse is a mind-bending odyssey into surreal whimsy. His on-stage theatrics span the gamut, from scaling the speakers to wielding the microphone with an affectionate fervour, all punctuated by occasional sips from a chalice of psychedelic elixir. At one point, a daring flight from the stage to the pit nearly transports Jack to the great beyond as he crashes heavily into the barriers. For a fleeting moment, one might glimpse the reaper himself, startling a lady in the front row. But fret not, for regardless of the pain, Jack, like Lux, forges ahead as if nothing has occurred!
The remaining members of the band, in stark contrast, bear expressions of world-weary nonchalance. Jack’s frenetic jests often leave them in a state of mesmerized contemplation, as if muttering to themselves, “We’ve seen it all before.” But what surpasses even the most intricate cosmic choreography is the band’s performance – a revelation that astonishes and confounds many in the audience.
Just when you believed Jack had exhausted his arsenal of malevolent tricks, prepare yourselves for the inconceivable, the unimaginable!"
In Jess’s (Ivy’s) skilled hands, a guitar sorceress of understated demeanor conjures the spirit of Link Wray, takes care of business, and channels the quintessential psychobilly resonance that both defined The Cramps and now courses through Teenage Werewolves. The remaining band members, equally adept, wield their sonic ju-ju with unmatched expertise, crafting the ancient beats that captivate the very soul of the night.
Islington Academy, now transformed into a realm where shadows writhe and guitars howl, sets the stage for a performance of spine-tingling proportions. The setlist, a sinister selection of nearly twenty songs, holds the promise of something for nearly every brave soul venturing into the depths. But, my dear friends, heed this warning! Jack’s voice, weathered by the relentless tour, still pierces the night with its haunting wails and unearthly growls. From the eerie ‘Sunglasses after Dark’ to the hypnotic ‘Goo Goo Muck,’ and descending further into the abyss with ‘Creature From The Black Leather Lagoon,’ my dear Cramps fans, the relentless onslaught of sonic horror will leave you gasping for more.
Just when you believed Jack had exhausted his arsenal of malevolent tricks, prepare yourselves for the inconceivable, the unimaginable! Inexplicably and incredibly, Patricia Quinn herself emerges from the shadows to partake in this macabre spectacle. She lends her ethereal voice to the timeless ‘Time Warp.’
...the otherworldly meets the bizarre in a spectacle that eludes explanation!"
Jack implored us to heed his warning, for this is not a mere performance; it is a SHOW of unparalleled entertainment, the likes of which your fragile mortal senses can scarcely comprehend. Those of you who dared to venture into these depths to bear witness to this night of musical madness will surely be haunted in your dreams for all eternity
After the encore, the divine presence of the Teenage Werewolves recedes from the stage, allowing you to confidently dispel any doubts about whether this ‘tribute’ could ever succeed. An evening with The Cramps was always a night of transcendental madness, a symphony of sonic mayhem. Jack and the band, you did them proud, in a tale plucked from the pages of a science fiction comic book, where the otherworldly meets the bizarre in a spectacle that eludes explanation!
If you want to know more…….. ask the barman!
Teenage Werewolves played O2 Academy Islington on Sat Aug 26, 2023
Words and live photography Copyright of 1st 3 Magazine
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