Unsafe..At Any Speed
This full length follows 2 singles by them which did very well at WZBC and made them many DJ’s favorites. They sounded exactly like the Fall on thier second single “Firebird Special” (also on this CD). Their first single “Machine” was played by every WZBC Rock DJ. This CD sounds like Yummy Fur and Nectarine No. 9 with the guitars doubling on the bass riffs (like Lungleg also do). The vocals have the Mark E. Smith (The Fall) fixation many of the Scottish bands (like Male Nurse) seem to affect.
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Sport Fury
Surprisingly, the band responsible the massive Z-Rock hit, “We Don’t Have a Machine” (7″ still available from the band, see their website for details), has only released two albums and a handful of singles. They’ve certainly shown a fair amount of progress since their ’98 debut album “Unsafe…at Any Speed! Gone are the cliche sound bites starting each track — even Man…Or Astro-Man? got tired of doing that — and there’s a marked improvement in the recording quality, due at least in part to the skills of Steve Albini. And while Jack Straker’s vocals still show him to be a graduate of the Mark E. Smith Singing Academy, this record sees him lose the distorto vocal effects; his British accent is also less pronounced. I think they’ve been listening to a lot of Pixies records (and the Sonic Youth songs with talking in them). My favorite tracks: “Science Fiction,” “Touch My Stuff (You Can Die),” “Bad Guys Wear Black” and “It Might Be the Jets.”
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Sport Fury
Doncaster-based Poptones signings Beachbuggy bear an unnerving similarity to the Pixies; indeed, they’ve recorded a whole song about the bit on ‘Surfer Rosa’ where Black Francis tries to appease an irate recording engineer (‘Touch My Stuff (You Can Die)’).

To emphasise the point, they’ve recruited that very engineer. Steve Albini, for it is he, ensures ‘Sport Fury’ captures the sound that Beachbuggy have perfected over years of support slots, with the none-more-rockabilly two drummers providing forceful backing for Jack Straker’s whimsical lyrical pursuits.

The sinisterly feisty ‘Just A Little Punk’ marks these boys down as bona-fide punk-pop contenders, so let’s ignore the fact that ‘Science Fiction’ is a near copy of the Pixies’ ‘Cecilia Ann’. Pastiche rarely rocks this hard.
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Sport Fury
RATING: 7 out of 10
VERDICT: Almost the greatest album the Pixies never made.
You’ll like this if you like: The Pixies, The Fall
The twin-drum kit powered band once voted most likely to be mistaken for The Fall have gone and turned into the Pixies. Recorded by Steve Albini, the man responsible for recording the latter’s “Surfer Rosa” album, “Sport Fury” contains more Pixies references (both musical and lyrical) than you can shake a gearstick at. Of course, acknowledging your sources can often get you off the hook when allegations of plagiarism are hurled your way. Beachbuggy are obviously well aware of this, so we get “Touch My Stuff (You Can Die)”, a song built entirely around that vocal excerpt on “Surfer Rosa” where Black Francis explains to Steve Albini that he “was just finishing Kim’s part for her”. It’s hard to decide whether this is clever or just plain fucking lazy. Whatever, it sounds great. As does “From The South”, a hair’s-breadth away from being on trial for sounding too much like the Boston four-piece’s “The Happening”.

“Science Fiction” displays sonic shades of Beachbuggy’s good mates Man Or Astro-man? before it kicks in with some unexpected nu-metal style ranting. “Godspeed My Friend” recalls The Surfing Brides’ “Little Blue Planet”, while “It Might Be The Jets” is Beachbuggy’s only regression into Fall territory (unless you count album opener “Kickin’ Back”). “The Fastest Time” sounds for all the world like it has Kim Deal playing bass and supplying backing vocals, and if The Breeders ever covered it, you would never even suspect it might be a Beachbuggy song.

If the album closed with the band’s showstopping “Just A Little Punk” it would go down in history as the best album the Pixies never made. As it is, the abysmal “Cuba” (don’t you hate it when vocalists “narrate”?), the dull instrumental “Tom’s Dead” and the throwaway “Radio Ad” are proof that less is definitely more.
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More of the Fall-meets-Pixies sort of rock that one expects from these guys. While there’s no big stylistic leap on this, their third full-length, I think their material has gotten tighter and more focused. The impeccable production is once again courtesy of Steve Albini.

Killer Bee, the first single, is sung from the point of view of, yes, an actual Killer Bee: “How could Science be so wrong?”.

Kelly Hogan (ex-Rock*A*Teens) sings “oh wow!” on the choruses of Oh Wow!, adding a little extra something.

Strike! is a mid-tempo rocker with nice dynamics.

Easycome Easygo, one of my favorite tracks on the album, is a four on the floor number with noisy-ass choruses and an exquisite feedback outro.

The Hitt is classic Beachbuggy with primal drumming, bass riffs galore, spooky angular guitar parts, spoken/sung vocals, and a cool bridge in the middle.

Very Bad Thing, a mellow, melodic instrumental, is a nice change of pace before the album’s final blast of grit, Deathray.

Apparently they’ve already garnered some mainstream airplay in their native England with Killer Bee. Could 2003 *finally* be Beachbuggy’s year?
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Two drummers, goofy costumes; the first time I saw Beachbuggy in the flesh, supporting …Trail of Dead at the top of Manchester University’s student union, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. They looked pretty odd, and had songs that bordered on cringe-worthy, but they did it all so well. Having two drummers just worked, and when they dropped their ‘Sport Fury’ album, any doubt I had was banished. Here was a British band playing genuinely exciting rock ‘n’ roll (punk rock I suppose – ethically rather than aesthetically) with scant regard for commercial gain or critical acclaim. They were just doing their own thing, and with Steve Albini on production duties, ‘Sport Fury’ was justly praised. And so here we are again – same band, same producer, and near-enough same album. You may have already heard the single Killer Bee, as it’s been played on a few radio stations, but it’s far from the best moment on a mixed bag of a record. In fact, it’s probably one of the worst songs, with the grungy following track Fire In My Eye (remarkably Jesus Lizard-like), the fuzz-crunch of Dirty Mouth and the slacker-indie stomp of Strip City Heights all outshining it with ease. Overall, ‘Killer B’ is a good record, occasionally great, but not one to drop everything and rush out for. Wait for the sales and have some budget fun instead – you’ll appreciate it a lot more.
Review taken fromCWAS #12

From playing off the back of a truck outside the Leadmill to recording their new album with legendary hob-nob fanatic Steve Albini Jack Straker and Beachbuggy have carved out a nice niche for themselves through the simple virtues of driving straight and fast. Now if laid the three ‘buggy albums end to end you’d have a pretty straight path to walk down since there is little deviation from their chosen path.

Joining the dots between The Fall and a rather more prosaic Pixies, Killer B kicks off with the swirl of American stadium organ before igniting into the lead off single and the title track. It’s a buzzing, crunchy slice of overdriven pop. That it maintains its initial volition is both a blessing and a curse in that the album never lets up – by the time you get to The Hitt, Sandman’s favourite, you’ve had half an hour of taut American-inflected chug-garage and little else give or take a wee dab of backing vocals. There’s a lack of variety which would be fine if some of the tracks didn’t blur into each other quite so much. That said there’s not many doing what Beachbuggy do better than Beachbuggy and what more can you ask for?
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A Box Of Odd (compilation)
While Thee Sheffield Phonographic Corporation has gained quite a reputation for a string of excellent 7” singles, this 12-track compilation marks its first foray into the full-length market. A Box Of Odd features two recordings from six different Sheffield-area bands, all of whom ply their trade in the surf/garage-rock genre.

Beachbuggy are the only genuinely internation band represented here – they’ve already released two Steve Albini-produced LPs on Poptones, and one on US label Sympathy For The Record Industry – and, as their two contributions quite clearly demonstrate, their relative fame probably isn’t the result of a coincidence. But while Deathray and The Driver certainly shine brighter than any of the other material on display, they’re certainly not the only worthwhile offerings here.

Make You Mine, The Motherfuckers’ first slice of Doors-meets-Nuggets garage-rock, provides the compilation with a memorable, hook-laden start. In fact, it’s probably the most infectious tune on the whole album. G.G. Action’s Dirty Girl is a close second in those stakes, but sadly fails to stand up to anything more than two or three plays. Texas Pete’s Superhero Stomp – a jangly ode to Batman et al – proves that this charismatic live band can deliver the goods on record. Elsewhere, Chuck (clearly the black sheep of TSPC family) get aggressive on Kill ‘Em All while The Special Agents manage to pull off a couple of outstanding organ-drenched instrumentals, the best of which is Our Man On Mars.

There are definite lulls in the action (although I won’t name names, I share a city with these artists after all) but, crucially, each band turns in at least one solid performance.

The limited range of the music on offer is perhaps A Box Of Odd’s biggest single flaw. Although each band adds its own unique spin to the surf-rock formula, a few of the genre’s trademark features (those jangly one-note guitar runs, in particular) do begin to grate after a while. As a result, after one or two sittings, I found myself listening to the odd individual track rather than the album as a whole.

Nevertheless, I haven’t heard many label samplers in recent months that can match A Box Of Odd in terms of quality. In simple terms, the good definitely outweighs the bad here. At only £6, you could certainly do a lot worse for your money, particularly if you’re a surf-rock aficionado or a resident of Sheffield. And if you fall into both categories? Please tell me you have this record already… 7/10
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Kickin’ Back ep
How odd, a CD single released for a song taken from an album that came out over a year ago.

Mind you, I’m not complaining; these four new songs (plus “Kickin’ Back” from their Sport Fury album) continue along in the Fall-meets-Pixies vein quite competently.

Still, no big surprises from everyone’s favorite drag racing-obsessed Limeys. Dunno if any but the album cut were recorded by Steve Albini, there’s no credit; not that it matters or anything.

My favorite track is “Information” — great pummelling beat! Actually it sounds a LOT like another track on the single, “Ha! Ha!” which I just don’t like as well. “I Got Root Beer” is more pep than plod; a nice change of pace.

This CD also includes the mpeg music video  for “Kickin’ Back,” complete with goofy outtakes from the shoot.
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Dirty Mouth
S’funny, you can never hear the twin drummers that make Beachbuggy such a sight when they play live on any of their records. Never mind, this is another straightforward piece of Fall-y garage rock. It roars and thumps but in the same way a nicely tuned engine does, none of the conks and splutters that gives lesser engines some character, if less motive force. A typical Steve Albini gives the sound space to breathe (or grunt at least).

A good single (and blimey there’s even a wee touch of harmony in their somewhere.) If you like your rock’n’roll withouts frills then this is for you.
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The latest endeavour Wrath 15 see’s the Poptones endorsed BEACHBUGGY roll out both drummers and supercharge a post Mark E Smith sermon. A bit like Ikara Kolt with bigger guitars and beats but with vitriolic venom in their vocal line. So promising but let down by the fantastic opportunity missed to rant like the devil himself.
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London: Notting Hill Arts Club, circa 2000
Uncouth is the word…

Uncouth is the word. Beachbuggy play rock’n’roll all souped-up and geared-down, with the mufflers removed. Singer/guitarist Jack Straker shreds his vocals with echo-boxes until all that’s left is a detached noise. Meanwhile, his rhythm section – one bassist, two drummers playing side-by-side – hit harder than an earthquake, slicker than grease. Top this off with a wry, love-us-or-just-fuck-off-and-die spirit, and it’s suddenly no mystery Steve Albini flew ’em over from their native Doncaster to capture this dense diesel-rock on tape.

No matter how spotless their matching white pit-stop smocks, sinister sleaze is Beachbuggy’s text. You can feel it in the probing low-end grunt of their riffs; so solid, so shuddering, you’ll swear you could swing astride ’em and peel off into the darkness. You sense it in the tangible nastiness that bubbles underneath the likes of ‘Kill Straker’ and ‘Speed-Racer’. With all their automobile imagery, Beachbuggy are the Greaser-Rocker archetype of the ’50s, retooled for the noise-fried ears of the Y2K rock audience.

They’re currently without a label over here (perversely, they have an album out on US indie Sympathy For The Record Industry), though, judging by the influential heads nodding tonight, that won’t be a problem much longer. Those with a hunger for grit and groove in equal helpings – hang in there. Beachbuggy are coming for you.
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Doncaster: Nags Head, 11/01/2001
Beachbuggy / J*R
Well, it’s 2001 and enigmatic alien monoliths have inexplicably failed to forcibly evolve mankind into a higher order of being. And are we driving rocket cars home to take care of our electric sheep? We are not.

So forget about the future (even if it is now), and let us revel in some classic rock and roll retooled for the new millennium. Because it’s time for the annual festive J*R/Beachbuggy double header, hosted this year by the Nag’s Head.

These days seeing either band play Doncaster is getting to be an annual event, so catching both together falls squarely into the category of ‘Rare As Amish Porn’.

Last year’s event saw them cram all 9-odd members of both bands onstage, along with two and a half drumkits and countless guitars, with the bands playing alternate songs, for a ingenious parody of what Half-Man Half-Biscuit like to call the ‘running order squabble-fest’.

For 2001 it’s a variation on the same theme, with each band playing two 3-4 song sets each. And once again, the practicalities of the arrangement (such as repeatedly rounding up drunken musicians in a crowded pub) are gleefully ignored because once such a cool idea has been conceived, it would be criminal not to see it through to the illogical end.

So sets one and three see J*R rending the air with their vicious psychobilly blues apocalypse. On tracks like the mighty Executive Decision great greasy waves of sleazy noise pin back the ears as the guitars stab at you like a homemade shiv to the kidneys.

The queasy psychosis of Dave Took A Brick is given an added air of menace by frontman Rob Ché, who precedes it with five minutes spent haranguing someone for attempting to leave before they’ve finished playing.

Sets two and four see Beachbuggy putting the pedal to the metal for some of their fearsome, rumbling garage rock. With two drummers, they’re never going to be short of power under the hood, and the ‘Buggy are never running on less than a full tank of (natural) gas.

Jack Straker’s vocals sound brilliantly like they’re coming out a small tannoy two fields away, as the guitar riffs pump like pistons and the bass purrs like… another part of an engine (I don’t know cars).

For large stretches they sound uncannily like The Fall covering The Pixies. And, of course, that makes them the best band in the world ever.
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London: The Garage, Highbury, circa 2001

Trans Am / Him / Beachbuggy
May the backlash be swift and bloody.

Buzzsaw indie rockers Beachbuggy are well used to lowly support slots, but footing this particular bill is way beneath them. With their thundering basslines and sneering vocals, they may owe heavy debts to The Fall and the Pixies, but ‘Bad Guys Wear Black’ and ‘Kickin’ Back’ bristle with punky menace. Jack Straker and co wear matching white overalls and applaud themselves after every song. On this evidence, it won’t be long before the rest of the world joins in.

If Beachbuggy wear their influences on their sleeves, Him’s queasy jazz-dub hybrid teaches us the perils of experimentation. Tonight, they work through new album, ‘Our Point Of Departure’, in its entirety, but sound like they’re playing the same track the whole time. And while their percussionists conjure a spooky, pulsating backdrop, Carlo Cennamo’s caterwauling sax solos don’t half get boring after a while.

Yet Him’s muso crimes are dwarfed by those of Trans Am. Initially this Washington trio flatters to deceive: with its vocodered vocals and staccato rhythms, ‘I Want It All’ is prime Devo-esque synth-pop, while ‘Play In The Summer’ boasts a scuzzy melody worthy of Sonic Youth. But then they decide to prove how clever they are, and we’re subjected to a barrage of noodlesome guitar solos and droning electronic instrumentals. It’s all heartbreakingly self-indulgent, and people start streaming out long before the ghastly Spinal Tap finale.

It seems the prog rock enemy still walks among us, even while righteous souls like Beachbuggy fester in obscurity. May the backlash be swift and bloody.
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Nottingham: Rock City, 16/04/2002
Beachbuggy / BellRays
Summer is definitely on the way – bright sunshine accompanied my journey into the city centre tonight and I lost count of the number of short sleeves, short trousers and shades (not to mention the odd bikini top) that I passed on the way.

Now what has that got to do with a gig review?

Well, in BEACHBUGGY’s world, summertime is 352 days of the year, where everyone cruises along Miami beach wearing loud fluorescent shirts, driving top down convertibles and surfing ‘til the sun goes down – except they’re from Doncaster, so the nearest they ever get to a cattle ranch is probably the local KFC, but we can all dream, eh kids??

To their credit, Beachbuggy certainly look the part, in their matching ‘Team Beachbuggy’ race wear and Nick Straker’s heavily accentuated drawl could be easily mistaken for being of genuine deep southern origin if you didn’t know any better.

They also possess a glut of killer tunes such as ‘Bad Guys Wear Black’ and ‘I’m With The Jets’ which provide a fitting excuse for one lone cowboy at the front to have the biggest party this side of….Watford.

As garage acts go, Beachbuggy are definitely more Kwikfit fitters than Dodgy Dave’s second hand Tyres and Exhausts, straight in and out without any fuss but overall money well spent.

Tonight’s headline act THE BELLRAYS hail from California, and were discovered by none other than former Creation records svengali Alan McGee, who promptly gave them a record deal and brought them over to blighty for a series of dates.

The first thing noticeable about the BellRays is that they are no spring chickens, with bass player Bob Vennum in particular looking 40+ and the rest of his colleagues not far behind in the “been there, seen this, done that” stakes.

Their sound is also steeped in past traditions, 1977 to be exact.

Every song sounds like it has been lifted from ‘Never Mind The Bollocks’, with the exception being the vocal talents of one Lisa Kekaula.

Big of hair and even larger of lungs, Miss Kekaula raises the roof with her bluesy howl, which would probably shake the most stagnant particles of dust from Rock City’s rafters, and the audience seem compelled to listen, well for the first three songs at any rate, because after a while it becomes more like a guessing game to see which punk classic the band have pilfered next while Miss Kekaula screams and shouts her intentions over the top.

0/10 for originality then but I suppose they make up for that with their boundless energy.

They do say what goes around comes around after all.
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London: The Garage, Highbury, circa April 2002
Bellrays / Beachbuggy
Beachbuggy are a fourpiece with more gimmicks than a badger riding a bike whilst juggling pickled herring.  For a start they all wear matching mechanic’s overalls.  However their main act of non-conformity is their use of two drummers.   Unfortunately this is actually pointless as the two skin slappers play the exact same rhythm for almost the entire set.  So what about the music?  Well it’s all moderately appealing if rather overly-familiar with Jack Straker’s Mark E Smith style delivery accompanied by a prominent bassline that mimicks in turn either the Pixies or a keyboardless Stranglers without ever reaching the peaks of either.  The gimmicks may well help you remember the band but the music will probably not have you speeding down to the local Megastore.
Review taken

Sheffield: Boardwalk, 13/05/2003
Beachbuggy roar into the Boardwalk, and take a pit-stop to chat to L2SB.

It’s a Tuesday night at the Boardwalk, and Doncaster’s Beachbuggy are beginning a tour to promote their new album, ‘Killer B’.

“Eight shows in a row,” says singer/guitarist Jack Straker, “that’s going to kill us. We don’t usually play two shows in row, let alone eight, on consecutive nights”.

The album is their second to be produced by Pixies and Nirvana producer Steve Albini, after 2001’s ‘Sport Fury’.

“We were in rehearsals and we wanted to make a record,” says Jack, “we didn’t have a deal, nobody was interested and we thought what’s the best record we could make for our own personal satisfaction, who would we want to make it with, and we thought of Steve Albini.

“We got hold of his phone number and rang him up. We sent him a record we’d already made and he said yeah, come and do it.”

The album was released by Alan Mcgee’s label Poptones after the ex-Creation boss saw them playing London. The deal was nearly off, due to Beachbuggy’s insistence on their individual style.

“It was a difficult decision, for the strangest reasons,” says Jack. “Alan McGee has his own in-house artist who designs all Poptones records and were adamant we wanted to design the sleeve, and it was our sleeve or we don’t sign the deal basically.”

All Beachbuggy’s imagery is that of traditional British racing, from the record sleeves to the regulation blue racing overalls that act as the band’s onstage uniforms.

Jack says: “I don’t take part but I go to drag racing weekends, and I used to go to a lot of circuit racing with my dad when I was younger. I’m a mechanic by trade and I’ve kinda got that kind of thing going through my family as well. I think it’s really stylish too, that 60s racetrack stuff. It’s just great.”

A further trait that stands out is the fact that Jack and bassist Al B Kirkey are joined by not one, but two drummers. Jack and Al stand on the sidelines to give the focal point to dual sticksmen AD and Danny Sicks.

“We had two people come to rehearsal,” says Jack. “They both seemed really keen and they were both really good, it seemed a shame to turn somebody down.”

The band describe their new album as “13 tracks about killing, alien invasion, riding a rollercoaster and what it’s like to be a bumblebee”. It’s a fine slab of garage rock, with quirky lyrics and (obviously) a lot of drums. They often get compared to The Pixies, but Jack can’t see it.

“Everybody says that, but it’s only since ‘Sport Fury’ that I even bothered with them really. I own one Pixies record, and I don’t think we sound like that.”

Jack and Al are currently listening to Hot Hot Heat and Electric Six – strangely enough two bands that found themselves on the wrong side of anxious wartime censoring along with Beachbuggy.

“Do you know Radio 6 wouldn’t play our single ‘Killer Bee’ because it contained the word ‘killer’”, he says. “But it’s about a bumblebee!

“I don’t know if people are too sensitive, or the media who are too sensitive about upsetting people. They should treat us with the intelligence to be objective and get some perspective on things.”

The album has received a 5 ‘K’ review in Kerrang!, and hopefully this is a start of a change of fortune for the band, who reel somewhat reticent towards the music press

“When was the last time you saw us in the press, that wasn’t an advert we payed for?,” points out Jack.

” I don’t expect great things, but I would hope we have some good reviews. Hopefully it’ll help us play slightly bigger and better shows later in the year, which is all we want to do really.”

As well as the LP, the band are releasing tracks on the forthcoming ‘Box of Odd’ compilation which will be released by The Motherf*ckers’ Sheffield Phonographic Corporation label. It will also feature other local garage rock stalwarts such as Chuck and Texas Pete.

“They got together and wanted to do a record of a couple of tracks each. Which is exactly how we started doing things. And so I saw no reason why we wouldn’t want to do it just because we’re associated with Poptones. It would be utterly ludicrous to say ‘oh no, we don’t do that now, we’re on a proper label

And so to the obligatory cheesy music interview-closing question – are Beachbuggy here to change music?

“I think music’s beyond being saved. Saved from what? Music’s music, today’s news is tomorrow’s fish and chip paper. It’s just music – we’re just a bunch of guys in a band having a laugh.”

Hopefully this time the music press will wake up and notice Beachbuggy. This could finally be the time we’ll see them race to the top, like a British racing green Mini. Packed with drum kits, of course.
Review taken

Leeds: Joseph’s Well, 01/06/2003
Beachbuggy / The Scaramanga Six / les Flames!

School age kids and those a little more, how shall I put it, mature – those that experienced punk the first time round – seem to have a fascination with France’s most delectable garage punk export: les Flames! A collective love for dirty rock’n’roll combined with colourful language perhaps, as a hundred fucks never sounded so good… on the other hand labelmates The Scaramanga Six don’t shout obscenities, which is probably for the best with them being respected, upstanding rock stars. If you thought the youthful Flames’ scuzzy guitar riffs were sexy then you’ll be flirting your pants off with these snarling senior citizens, like a Good Charlotte video with a rockingly better soundtrack. Only kidding guys and gal Six! Six! Six! As we approach a decade of the super slick Six tormenting our ears, the music remains as fresh and relevant as ever and as one hack got it so wrong, bandwagon jumping it most certainly is not. Beachbuggy seem lame in comparison, and once the initial gimmickry has worn off the dual drumming four-piece seem quite one-trick. I’m sure something special must have happened after song four, but with a few punters heading for the bar by then I ventured that one step further and ended up at home… good on record though, and they do look nice in white…
Dave Sugden

Leeds: Joseph’s Well, 19/10/2003
Beachbuggy / Magoo
Let’s see…tonight we’ve got two bands who seem to have been stuck on the minor label/toilet circuit for longer than most people care to remember. Journalistic credibility rating about two out of ten. Yup, should be a good night.

And indeed it is. I was actually genuinely surprised to find out that Magoo are still going considering the last record I can remember of theirs was about four years ago but they’re still out there peddling their own slightly skewed brand of Seafoodesque Husker Du indebted indie and, surprisingly, it sounds quite good tonight, veering from snotty art-punk thrash one minute to more considered psychedelia the next.

Now reduced to a four-piece (but with the two drummers still intact), Beachbuggy comprehensively steal the show tonight though (even though, at a mere 30 minutes, their set was disappointingly short). Coming on to a backdrop showing the old Stallone film “Deathwish 2000” (which they take the odd break between songs to comment on – sample quote, “Yup, this guy’s gonna die any second…(cue bloke being squished underneath the wheels of a speedster)…see, told ya…right, this next one’s called “From The South”…”), they make for an excellent evening’s entertainment with the Frank Blackisms of “Kickin’ Back”, “Bad Guys Wear Black” et al rocking like the proverbial caveman’s house. They may be short on journalistic credibility but really, in both these bands’ cases, that’s the music press’ loss and the fans’ gain. Good stuff.
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Bulldog Bash, 08/2004
Beach Buggy [sic] are an unusual band and can only be categorised as strange rock with a punk rock feel. Bringing older riffs to their sound this bunch of friends that started by goofing around and don’t take themselves too seriously. Punk rock that has gone almost uncovered by the UK press is now beginning to get the recognition it deserves, What the band lack in stage presence is made up for by a set full of musical talent.
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Bulldog Bash, 08/2004
With a name like Beachbuggy it’s not surprising that this band manages to cope well with the shifting sands of seemingly ever changing line-ups. The live Beachbuggy experience is now somewhat legendary. Their truck has rolled up outside several big gigs over the last two years to deliver impromptu shows to the waiting fans…and some people have been known to queue deliberately early just to make sure they have a ringside seat in the car park! Today Beachbuggy are down to one drummer, but that doesn’t slow them up…and nor does the sparse afternoon crowd inside the cavernous main stage tent that could easily swallow up even a respectably large crowd in it’s gloomy depths. When the single ‘Ya Just a Little Punk’ crashes out of the speakers then the spirit of Mark E Smith is summoned from whatever bedsit he currently inhabits and some Mary Chain magic is worked into the mix.
Review taken

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