The Writers' Circle

The Light Bar, Wolverhampton 5th February 2010
Miss Halliwell. 


The drum set twinkles, wrapped in cable lights and coloured paper shining out of the dark Black Country, where lets face it taste hasn't really caught on yet. Miss Halliwell represents a small pocket of bands based in the Black country. By priding their image on an extra terrestrial, eerie originality, an inventive mixture of ideas form. Such an imaginative set up gives the local and surrounding areas an indication of a profound intelligence among this particular generation of artists who encourage us to look deeper beneath the surface in to an odd style of British culture perplexed by the visual spectacle.

Incorporating some weird thespian peculiarity, kids bought up on dodgy nineteen eighties hammer horror conveyed by a rubber mask wearing vocalist, conducting faced away from the crowd. This band played their set at the light bar Wolverhampton, to a small crowd who seemed to enjoy the  unpretentious statement of a band, who in collaborating musically and visually stimulated the crowd immensely. Playing violent rifts obsessive rifts in to sharp ethereal melodies. A Raw musical equivalent of picture et poesis. Think Irvine Welsh in a fluorescent, musical, tube sock. It is refreshingly inspiring to say the least. This grittiness must be savoured.

Miss Halliwell will eventually inspire others to follow suit. One particular lyric which stood out describes the complex issues of a neglected social fabric "What does the audience think...Its just an idea...just like everybody else." This is something I think the band should emphasize to their advantage. There's so much stuff around in London that's really sameish and with bands like Miss Halliwell coming out of the Black Country and there's this potent, raw originality here, which brings the music scene hope. It's a rebuke of nineties indie pop making an aesthetic cultural statement of diversity in an area which is overlooked more often than not . This band proves to be original and punchy, saying a lot about the ambition, not potential of Black Country individuals.

Slackers meets aunties boiled sweets at the alternative store skiiving off class. Sounds like: Kula- Shaker losing their zen in an industrial estate.