Hey kids, it’s okay. There you were thinking that major record labels didn’t sign ‘proper’ bands any more. You know, bands with guitars and stuff. But here’s the good news: they still do! And the bad news? Most of them sound like this. The Boho Sub Band truly are a sign of just how far the music industry has sunk in its slavish pursuit of the quick buck. This whole idea that you can simply weld a few groovy beats onto a random selection of samples, chuck in a bit of ragged guitar playing and lope around looking like you might possibly have done drugs of some description counts as eclectic, genre-bending innovation is as rancid as month-old milk.

Two years ago (roughly speaking) Regular Fries and their like were making a small name for themselves amongst the capital’s hip young movers and shakers. Skunk rock briefly threatened to be the New Baggy and then, thankfully, it all went away again. Except that assorted corporate A&R types still thought it was the new thing and bands like this were signed. These people were actually given money! Christ.

There are seven members of The Boho Sub Band. The two singers respectively look like a male model skinhead fashion victim and an ageing 70s porn star. There’s a bit of shouting, some loose grooving and plenty of kerrazy noises coming out of the keyboard (although the keyboard player spends most of his time playing an imaginary tambourine) but it’s all so hopeless you actually feel sorry for the poor saps. They are utterly useless to the point that they play for a mere twenty five minutes (feels like an hour) before a combination of audience apathy and a self realisation that they have no discernible songs forces them to call it a day. If you thought the Regular Fries were bad you really ought to see this lot. Their last song is called ‘Same Old Shit’. Do we really need reviewers in the face of such perception? The Boho Sub Band? The Boho Substandard Band, more like.

Ian Chesterton