They also make glorious, intricate glam-blues which big Lou himself would have loved to strut around to, and they also look set, as he did, to conquer Europe on this first leg of a jaunt round the Continent. The music isn’t highbrow stuff – essentially it’s a sequence of cock-rock posturing and songs about girls – but the total absence of irony makes for a truly entertaining event. There’s no self-awareness, no studenty faux post-modern bunkum, no sense that they are lifelessly and pointlessly imitating an outmoded genre. What there is, however, is a bouffant-haired troupe of oversexed men who play guitar exceptionally well and enthuse about girls. A lot. And that’s the glory of Louis XIV. Unlike the Darkness, Louis XIV’s music avoids being a caricature of its own source material. That’s not to say that Louis XIV aren’t indebted to their musical forefathers – the mid-set southern twang of Illegal Tender is essentially Sweet’s Blockbuster, and Bolan’s shadow is ever-present over some occasionally brazen riff thievery. Yet the band move beyond pale imitation adding a raw, bluesy rock’n’roll shot to the glam cocktail. Vocalist Jason yelps like Jack White caught in a bear trap and some gutsy, rasping guitar shows that this lot have moved way beyond glib glam revivalism. The band are perfectly at home here and demand was so great that an earlier, matinee show was added to meet demand (and to accommodate the kids too young to make it here tonight). This popularity confirms the suspicion that Louis XIV are a band who know how to put on a show: the capacity crowd all know the words to favourite Finding Out True Love Is Blind. As a live act, devoid of any grand aspirations and deliciously dirty, it’s a no brainer: Louis XIV just rock.
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