You can almost smell the greased-back hair and the scent of old sweat on leather as you listen to what appears to be Guadelupe Plata’s third album, and their first to be released in the UK – it would almost be a disappointment if they didn’t travel from town to town across Andalucia by battered bike. They sound as if they must rip up the stage when they play live – a tense, taut rhythm section provides the base over which screeching guitar builds and releases. And while the singing is in Spanish, you don’t get the impression it’s all hearts and flowers. You’d take a bet on the Gun Club, the Birthday Party and Gallon Drunk featuring in their record collections. On record, though, it’s not such a thrill: there are only so many times you want to wait for the solo while a squealing guitar teeters on the brink of feedback. It’s not that it’s bad, by any means, more that music that depends so much on charismatic performance for impact doesn’t really translate to the studio.
