Hammer Horror With A Hook
Goth rockers with an unhealthy love for hairspray and an overt affection for heavily applied eyeliner The Horrors are a band that either incites hatred and contempt or unquestionable loyalty and love; there is no middle ground. Since rising rapidly to become poster boys of the NME, Southend's stick thin Goth ghouls have tended to be viewed as more style over substance, more gimmick than group, often leading to their looks gaining more attention than their music.
Throwing every cliché horror film tool into the mix and unleashing one eerie sound after another, 'Gloves' is Goth rock in its basic form from the screaming howls passing as vocals to the punk riffs that zoom around right down to the organ melodies atmospherically hinting to a churchyard setting. Its over the top and trite as 'Gloves' uses every trick of the trade to market a song suiting the band's name but surprisingly you can ignore all this as you unexplainably get swept up in the hype of the big haired quintet only to discover that 'Gloves' is quite a catchy tune, daringly standing out from the crowd of glowstick toting ravers in all its black Goth glory. Sure, things go down hill slightly when Badwan and Rotter go all Vincent Price on us 'menacingly' whispering "A hand through my ribcage, past the choking I saw palms and fingers grasping. Shoulders. Collarbone. Crushing". Its so ridiculous its funny but perhaps that's what The Horrors are all about, simply injecting a healthy dose of black humour into the overtly serious indie scene. Leave your preconceptions at the door and welcome a little ray of bizarrely humorous Goth rock into your black heart, just don't take it too seriously.