Furtive porn mags in the bus shelter. Sneaky seven skinners behind the bike sheds. A member called Mike Balls. Songs about your Mum having weird anatomical bits. Hmmm. To this reviewer's way of thinking, it's no surprise GOLDIE LOOKIN' CHAIN have hit a nerve with the great unwashed. Let's face it, they appeal to the streak of pure peurility that most of us surreptitiously love when there's no-one watching.
So, it's not much of a revelation to learn "You Knows I Loves You Baby" is the daftest, soulful'n'profane Christmas single there could probably ever be. And just because Santa's due down the chimney, it ain't gonna stop the GLC's rampant carnal desires neither.
Basically, the Kojak-titled "You Knows I Loves You Baby" is the sound of Har Mar Superstar meeting Barry White with a brace of S'N'M mags while Earth Wind & Fire soundtrack the festive proceedings down the Carthorse Arms in Penarth. It opens with the sound of extreme frustration ( "Wanna make you sweat baby, the way a pig sweats on a hot day - ooh yeah!"), contains a sample of obscure smoochy soul stunner "Curious" by Midnight Star and finds the lads trying out their most romantic moves on the laydeez. They wanna get it on in "a bush or a car park in town", rhyme "Milli Vanilli" with "buy you ten fags on a day trip to Caerphilly" and finally blow their load by confessing "to prove my love I got a tattoo...on my bollocks/ I was gonna have your name, but I just got initials because of the pain". Talk about love having no boundaries, eh? Can't score in a brothel, lads? These methods ensure you never will.
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Just to emphasise the band's blockheaded 'brilliance', try the flipside "Guns Don't Kill People, Rappers Do", live from the Leeds Festival for Jo Whiley. It starts with an interview and possibly the worst joke EVER ("What nationality is Mr.Sheen? Polish" ), namechecks Michael Caine in "Zulu" and is the very essence of short shelf-life stoner wisdom.
So, while I can't see meself nipping down to Argos to relieve them of their stock of gold shell suits and cut price jewellery or spending Christmas day in a bonged-out reverie because of these Welsh boyos sinuous grooves, this reviewer must still guiltily confess that he chortles when he hears GLC. Ah, the sheer pleasure of peurility. In small doses it's a wonderful thing.
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