Live Review: The Lovely Eggs & The Secret Rivals

Live Review: The Lovely Eggs & Secret Rivals. A Monday night in the cramped, sweaty upstairs of the Port Mahon pub in Oxford can be a challenge. Windows are firmly sealed shut, there is but one small entrance in and out, no bar, odours abound, personal space is elsewhere, and a chisel is useful to free the soles of your shoes from the floor. In fact, it was like being back at a gig in 1993.

But en-masse the Mackerel shoal were there. Mrs M trying to breathe through her mouth, Dr Roddy, Chris T Popper and Banner also valiantly gasping for oxygen and all of us awaiting the arrival of the Lovely Eggs.

But first was Oxford’s latest new indie kids, The Secret Rivals, a four-piece with split boy-girl vocals singing songs of fall-outs, mysteries and despair with hope and longing to put things right. Musically influenced by the sharp edges of The Cribs, Idlewild, Pixies and The Wedding Present, our friend Ronan, Lord High Priest of Oxford’s music scene and also in attendance, described them as being somewhere between The Cure and Los Campesinos, and who are we to argue.

Mrs M tapped a squashed fin approvingly as they gave us a short, slightly uneven, but always entertaining set. They were noisy, energetic, and showed plenty of imagination in their blend of shouty lyrics, thrumming guitar and military snap drumming. Finally, almost overcome by the heat, they departed leaving puddles of sweat in their wake.

And so to the Lovely Eggs. Imagine if you will a mad musical scientist locked away mixing the essence of Crass with Half Man Half Biscuit and Deep Purple in Burnley – this acerbic duo would be his ultimate creation. To say they are a product of their environment is an understatement. They are peculiarly British with roots deep in the no-nonsense backstreet landscapes of the North West and offer up a wry, observational humour blended with a surreal viewpoint that creates a unique, perverse and wilfully uncommercial outlook.

Who else would want to name a fan club ‘Friends of the Oeuf’, rhyme accordion with scorpion and beef bourginon and still make it sound like a serial killer’s nursery rhyme, relate an olive falling from a posh sandwich to its place in the wider universe, or extoll the virtues and benefits of mutual mastication on excellent new single Food.

Highlights were many, particularly the introduction of “Lancaster’s national anthem”, the extraordinary, swelling, hymn-like Fuck It, which signified that perhaps the duo should have the confidence to mix things up and slow things down a little more. Finally, it was rousing anthem, Don’t Look At Me I Don’t Like It, which closed the set in a frenzy of head nodding, mouthed-along lyrics and sticky foot stomping. Not finished yet though, we wouldn’t let them go until they’d raced through Watermelons for us too.

Like six bands in one, and yet like no-one else, we followed the crowd out, a few pounds lighter and with scales left shimmering like fools gold in the sweat and beer. Slowly shuffled downstairs, half expecting to exit into the midst of a poll-tax riot, but instead returning to the status quo of our small patch of a modern-day, messed up Britain. A patch that for a short, glorious while The Lovely Eggs had turned on its head in the most uplifting and imaginative way possible.

Download The Lovely Eggs – Have You Ever Heard A Digital Accordion mp3 (from Have You Ever Heard Of The Lovely Eggs)