Ladies and gentlemen - are you ready to rock?! Please put your hands together for D.U.S.T! This is stadium rock.
I'd always thought that bands evolved into stadium/arena rock when they, well, started to play huge ampitheatres and realised that scratchy indiepunk tunes about where to get a good Chinese meal in Camden Parkway weren't going to make sense to the n-thousand baying fans watching through binoculars from the floor of some enormodrome. Or more likely viewing the wild camera-gyrations on a huge video screen as some stick figures potter about on a stage in the middle distance.
So they start to write simple songs - because it's hard to play widdly bits when you're striding about on a stage the size of an aerodrome - about how big everything is and how awful it is to live out of a succession of hotel mini-bars, which is about time they should be locked away or meet with a carefully-arranged Terrible Accident. God, stadium rock disgusts me. So here we have DUST (sod the full-stops) who play hand-tooled, arena-grade... Well, it's not got the ugly bombast of 'Breakfast Club' era Simple Minds, nor the Status Quo-alike qualities of Stereophonics, so 'rawk' is the wrong word. Arena-pop? Nah - that's yer Britneys, that is. They remind me most of Then Jerico, I think.
There are... Nods to ZZ Top, a seriously random cover version, heroic vocal performances, basslines with hidden depths and... Xtian's magic bloody guitar. You know the bit about arena-rock not having widdly-widdly guitar because it's hard to play when you're being slung about the place on the end of a wire like an overweight clay pigeon? Right, forget it. I've watched this chap wander about the stage, leap up and down, fall over and attack a keyboard player - it can't be long before he's doing Otway-style somersaults - while all the time producing a guitar noise that approaches the sound of two people having a Joe Satriani contest after sinking a couple of pints of tequila each. I've also watched Mikey perform most of a gig lying down because he was too hammered to stand. Rock & Roll, kids - it's not big and it's not clever... Actually, in this case it's very big and dead clever, but that spoils the rhythm of the sentence. Anyway, I suggest you buy this record so DUST can afford liver-transplants in a few years.
Post: Wasp Factory Recordings, PO Box 270, Cheltenham GLOS, GL51 9YE, United Kingdom