The Christmas par-tay, which was also a clubnight. There were balloons. Lots of them. There were performers. About six of them. There was a band. One of them. They were called Molloy.
I thought one of the unspoken rules about being in a band is not wearing your influences so flagrantly on your sleeve - or chest. The guitarist was supporting an Imperial Drag t-shirt, who as far as I’m aware only had one unhit single Are you a boy or a girl? (I still have it somewhere…) from around ’97, which, you’d neveraguessedit, is an era Molloy sound like they were transported from. They look like they’ve never left
Still, what’s a decade between friends? The Kaiser Chiefs have been milking the corpse of Britpop dry, hopefully Molloy will do the same. They’re twice as fun as KC will ever be.
There rest of the night became an increasing blur and memory test of people’s names as the cans racked up on each table. Sexy Galexy romped through some lip-synced hits and two cuter-by-the-chug cheerleader boys did a routine for Bearlesque, with Santa stripping for an eager crowd. Then there was some drunk ranting about that boy winning X Factor, which greatly improves Lucky Soul’s slim chances...