Turning up tonight expecting the British Kittie (only not quite as good) was something of a mistake. Sugarcoma aren’t really anything like Kittie (which is probably a good thing for them) and they really aren’t that bad either. That’s not to say however that they are anything to get thoroughly excited about, not just yet.

Sugarcoma are three young women and one drummer boy who ply their trade in nu-metal riffs and bellowing. Despite the fact they take their name from an old Hole song, the grunge influence has been left at home along with that tattered wedding dress and slightly wonky tiara. While this is a shame (I’m sure most of us would kill for another Babes in Toyland, or Hole#2) Sugarcoma do have reasonably heavy artillery of metal riffs, and enough attitude to rival most of the male nu-metal bands that are currently treading murky metallic water. In singer Jess Mayers Sugarcoma have a front woman who is a natural performer and who can switch her vocal attack from quietly brooding to violent tourettes-like outbursts with apparent ease, and who also appears to have an almost catnip like effect on the young men gathered at the front - must be her perfume, right?

Where Sugarcoma fall down is in their song writing. Every single song sounds unfinished, and uninspired, which admittedly is a criticism levelled at pretty much any nu-metal band you may care to mention (hey, wind ‘em up and watch ‘em go!). Just as songs start to take a turn for the interesting, they come to a grinding halt and you realize you’ve been led up a blind alley again. After a while it becomes frustrating and you have stay calm by appreciating the classic 80s rock guitar poses that Claire Simson keeps adopting: her Scorpions pose taking an early lead as a personal favourite.

Sugarcoma then, not as awful as you may have read, not as good as you might hope. But everything is in the right place and with time and bitter disappointment maybe something purely evil (and therefore fantastic) could grow.

Allin Pratt