Schnapps - Crossdresser/More to Life than Peach - Singles - Reviews - Soundblab

Schnapps - Crossdresser/More to Life than Peach

by Rich Morris Rating:4 Release Date:2010-04-12

As a self-confessed glam-rock-obsessive, I was intrigued to hear that a band named Schnapps had released a single called 'Crossdresser'. At last, I thought, a band that have combined my two great loves in musical format; camp liqueurs and transvestites. I was imagining them looking like the cast of Rocky Horror, with songs that were a cross between Priscilla, Queen of the Desert and Alice Cooper. And that prospect made me excited. In a sex way.

So, imagine how crushed I was to see that they actually look and sound like a million other identikit indie quartets. None of them seem to own a pair of sequinned hotpants, PVC trousers, too much hairspray or glitter eye shadow. So we weren't off to a good start. In fact, in the pictures I eagerly perused on their MySpace, their lead singer is wearing what appears to be a parka with a fur-lined hood. Like a council estate football yob. Or the Arctic Monkeys. I can only hope that the live show involves this erotic item of clothing being removed to reveal arseless latex chaps or edible underpants. That's the only way they could redeem themselves for this fashion travesty.

But, putting aside my disappointment and distaste about their appearance, I decided to postpone judgement until I'd actually heard their debut double A-side, 'Crossdresser' and 'More to Life than Peach'. And they're not the most mediocre band I've ever heard. The sleazy guitars on 'Crossdresser' are ferociously-paced and infectious, but the vocals are much too close for comfort to Kings of Leon. And that's not a compliment. Apart from 'Sex on Fire', I violently dislike those moustachioed twits. But 'Crossdresser's combination of an underground garage sound with their catchy indie-pop melody means Schnapps might be one to watch in future. For a debut release, it's a valiant effort. But they need to either camp up the presentation, or recognise that they might be misleading people with their tenuous moniker. And until they do, I'll be in bed, fantasising about androgynous rock stars and licking my Marc Bolan box-set.

Jane Bradley

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