Baby Jane

Baby Jane are poisoned. They don't write songs; they chop the meat off one another wherever they see the poison. The poison doesn't fade, the flesh doesn't die but instead turns into sound. Music is pretty-polished/sheeny/nice. Baby Jane is cheap-o/basement-box/dusty grimy/rude. A welcome return to ramshackle was required via a creepy blend of blues/post-punk/sleaze/rockabilly/baroque 'n' roll. It smells more than it sounds. Drink Baby Jane and you'd spit them back out. A fasination for horror movies and a sense of kinky fun in parallel to David Lynch, think The Everly Brothers get The Cramps at Nico's backdoor. Just three dirty boys and one dirty girl howling at the moon on a back-porch in the Eastend of Glasgow.Go to JB Nelson Records to hear some more...

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