Not Squares, quite simply, shattered our groins. First supporting Chicagoite cretins Mahjongg earlier in the year, and then local loves Cap Pas Cap at their single launch last week, this funk-spunk quartet made a shapely name for themselves worth remembering. Giddily, we rushed to the merch stand to pick up anything not square that wasn’t stuck down with industrial glue. All we found, though, was something four-sided and eight-tracked: A tape. A bona fide Walkman warmer, ready to, erm, Wrok. We slammed down our three Euro (there goes the Nitelink home, then) and popped it in our back pockets. How it didn’t burn a hole we’re not quite sure.
Not Squares, quite simply, are the most exhilariting act to emerge from our prettier sister, Belfast, since Georgie Best started kicking an empty Bavaria can around an estate. In this age of instant iTouch gratification, their EP makes so simple an action as changing the tape to side B a second to salivate over. Taking the best bits from 23 Skidoo, and their bastard children Outhud and !!!, marrying them to grooves as liquid at the T-1000 in Terminator II, and throwing in some post-hardcore shoutalongs for good measure, the four-piece have arrived at a sound so polished Mr. Sheen could trim his moustache in it.
Not Squares, quite simply, will not be the support band for much longer.
