Selfish Cunt opens for Motorhead – Show me your fucking money

Posted by LoveHowlMuse on June 17th, 2007

Imagine your lover teases you into a position you never dreamed possible – you discover a passion you never knew you had – you flail and plead – and scream for a god – and surrender and surrender – you are undone. Selfish Cunt in all its innocence knows how to take you there – this is not an idea – this is not an image – this is your undoing.

What do you do when you put THAT before an unadventurous lover – someone who secures power in their routine? What do THEY do when their power is shown to be a pastiche?

So many questions, so many questions, when all that there really is, is desire.

The Royal Festival Hall wakes up to desire…

Selfish Cunt take the stage dwarfed by Motorhead’s Marshall stacks – that probably go up to 11 – and render them irrelevant. A black hole opens – and screams – YOU’VE GOT IT ALL WRONG! Right from the start there’s a misunderstanding about what you’re expecting and what you’re going to get.

Selfish Cunt delivered a set of astonishing intensity – enough to make your hepatitis ache – that made good on Jarvis Cocker’s promise that this year’s Meltdown Festival “shall rouse you from your slumber”. Martin Tomlinson cracked the microphone whip while Patrick Constable, Matthew Saw and Bambi inserted an adrenaline drip of high frequency feedback, erotic guitar pleads, and metabolic fury. Daring to slow down, bend over, speed up, screech and swarm, Tomlinson sang of dark desires, unsettling sexuality and the stink of money. This was an object lesson for schizophrenics – freaked outness – Pan pranced across the stage and pricked you out!

This is Selfish Cunt. They are an intensity – driving a demon machine – who prance and play like they couldn’t give a shit that Motorhead are hanging out backstage waiting to have their cocks licked under the lights of the Royal Box.