Room 2, Glasgow
If Cumbernauld was a rosebush then Mickey 9s would be its sexiest, sugariest specimen of bloom; a flowering juggernaut of contagious quality that makes you just fuckin’ glad to be there. I’d seen them once before & was blown away by their turbo disco funk in a gold lame suit, but last night had a completely different feel. It was pure 21st century rock n roll, & you really didn’t need to be a fan to be swept up in the seething adulation of the moment. These guys exist in the secret realms where buzzin’ meets brilliance; & every song, every riff, every lyric, every note, drips with a confident & ethereal sublimity.
It’s the Mumble’s main mission for the foreseeable to cut a hot knife thro the bubbling blue brie of Caledonian cantari, so just who are Mickey 9s? Let’s just say they are punkishly political to the groove of bass & beat, & can bang out some slick videos. I’ll put a couple in this review for folk to peruse. Their origin myth saw four school friends go to a Daft Punk gig, returning from which explosion of music & groove compell’d them to craft their own vison – & what a treat it is to behold.
Coming on stage to Madonna’s ‘Like a Prayer,’ the dance floor soon erupted into a magical mosh-pit of merriment, with the mysterious ‘St Cool’ infesting the vibe with his shamanic, hypnotic, kinetic front-manniness. Wearing eye make-up, all the women thought him hot as fuck & all the men rush’d off home to get their guy-liners out.
Mickey 9s are exciting, electrifying, energizing, & a load of other superlatives beginning with ‘e’ that means you don’t actually have to pop one. Their best tune for me, & clearly a lot of other devotees, went something along the lines of ‘whats rang wi me,’ a euphoric blast of supercool that’s still rattling round mi ‘ed as a type. An excellent gig, which Room 2 should be prais’d for facilitating… Scotland should be proud of Mickey 9s.
Words: Damian Beeson Bullen
Photos: Teri Welsh