Death To The Strange1These cheeky chirpy twats from Salford come down en masse to our sleepy city, taking our jobs and our women… They were actually very good and warranted the following and good crowd reaction.
Telfords Warehouse is a great setting, a beautiful building, next to the canal, ducks frolicking on the water, couples cavorting on the benches, cosmopolitan drinks on sale, in-crowd people at the bar, rubbish DJ and a bunch of scallies on stage.

I was only harping on a few days ago about the abundance of bands who sing about absolutely NOTHING – and I mean sweet fuck all of any substance…
Death To The Strange buck that trend, for they are a band from an emerging pack of social analysts. Social observationists, who say it like it is, be it signing on, tramp stamps, getting a ham-shank round the back of the bike sheds or going to score before a night on the town.. The kind of subjects that has the Twitter Police reeling in their PC worlds where everyone shares their viewpoint and those who don’t, do it at their own peril.

Death To The Strange
It is a lads outlook on life and there’s nothing wrong with singing about fourteen siblings living in one council house; it’s real life, it does happen. And all to the tune of The Coral claiming the same benefits as the Arctic Monkeys while Chas n Dave look wistfully on.
It’s champagne cocaine caviar, council estate songs for Saturday’s kids in their council houses, they wear V-neck shirts and baggy trousers. You can run away from your problems, but when you get there, you find your problems have run with you – all this social commentary and a kazoo solo too…