Saturday, 9 April 2011

Band Review: Tilly and the Wall

They look like the kind of people that would hear a news report of a wild gopher loose in the city and, not really knowing what a gopher is, or what kind of terrible mauling a wild one would be capable of inflicting upon a human being (none), become extremely agitated and jumpy.

They would discuss the gopher constantly, ignorantly, endowing it with supernatural powers and massive physical dimensions, inflating its menace and evil to beyond that of anything in the first two Lord of the Rings films, or one of the darker Harry Potter films (the latter ones). Eventually they would decide that the police offered inadequate protection, and that to survive, they must take matters into their own hands.

The tap dancing woman, the one with deadly hog essence, would buy a Ukrainian taser with twice the discharge capacity widely considered to be 'humane'; the blonde singing one, the one with the artificial, cold vagina, would buy a brutalised wolverine and a thick dog wrangling glove; the guitar man, the one that looks like a witch’s victim/vulture, would buy a crowbar, a crucifix, a whip, some hummus and a big bag of pornography; the other ones would buy other things… guns, shotguns.

They would walk around the city late at night with their backs to each other, shaking with fear and pornography.

Eventually they would walk past a homeless man sleeping off a hangover in a partially lit alleyway. The homeless man would make a wrong noise (surely the noise of a gopher!), and get a pitchfork through the chest, some mace to the eyes, a crowbar to the skull, a brutalised wolverine to the neck, a whip crack to the beard and a crucifix to the bum. He would be tasered and tasered and tasered.

The homeless man’s body would be reduced to a bubbling puddle of protoplasmic slime. Tilly and the Wall would realise what they had done, but find a way to blame the victim - or else the wild gopher, which is still loose somewhere in the city.

Anyway, that’s what they look like to me.

There isn’t any need to discuss the music because it isn't anything. If it is something, it’s an excuse for posing, showing off their latest clothing and cosmetics buys, or a means of financing their ever-growing plutonium needs.

...they need the plutonium to power their semi-sentient masturbation machine, KING FELIX III, which they both live inside and worship.

Tilly and the Wall.

1 comment:

  1. I love this review. The warning is all in her ironically insane odd-socks.