GENE LOVES JEZEBEL, Electric Ballroom, London

From the back of the hall, Gene Loves Jezebel could almost have passed for a Women’s Institute production of ‘My Fair Lady.’ Jay Aston, replete with flowery, wide-brimmed hat, feminine blouse and odd accent, made a delightful Eliza Doolittle. 

Such is the peculiarity exuded by these identical Welsh twins (alias the Thin Things – their anorexic proportions being severely emphasised by their donning of black leggings). Therein, perhaps, lies their appeal. No, not their skinny bodies but their inherently British weirdness. 

The weird people were certainly out in their droves tonight. Not sporting the requisite black garb and crimped tresses, I felt not so much ostracised, but more like a reluctant husband being dragged to that WI production. Not quite part of the select but welcoming club. 

Given their appearance, GLJ’s music is fairly predictable. There is no element of surprise when the brothers Aston strike up and Jay unleashes that bizarre yodel of a voice. 

Wailing pop is the brand exhibited, ranging from the recent and surprisingly accessible ‘Sweetest Thing,’ ‘Desire’ and ‘Heartache’ to the less refined, rambling ‘Cow’ and ‘Bruises.’ My memory fails me but presumably it was the latter Jay dedicated to “everyone who’s ever had plastic surgery.” (I’ve omitted to mention their disconcerting sense of humour!) 

The contrast in material stems not from a conventionalism of voice but a paring down of ‘let’s be obscure’ musical noises. The combination is proving increasingly irresistible. 

Even so, the Jezebels’ strongest moment tonight was the airing of ‘Stephen’ – a slow, starkly profound few minutes and definitely not another embarrassing ode to S P Morrissey. 

The Thin Things might (dis)grace Top Of The Pops’ staidness yet. Professor Higgins would have been proud. 


 

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