Melody Maker
20th April 1985 Issue

Clouds, Preston

IMAGINE the sound of fingernails scrapong down a blackboard, amplified to an intolerable degree. The Stone Roses are tuning up. An angst-ridden vocal penetrates the plethora of deranged drumming and screaming feedback. The effect is impelling - for the handful of diehard masochists pulverising each other at the front of the stage. The rest are unimpressed.

The Stone Roses, sadly, are like a whole host of other bands circa '76 - thrashing through a monotonous set, bereft of subtlety or sensitivity. They serve merely as a catalyst for aggression; channelling energy and fervant emotion into their songs for all the wrong reasons. What's more, this band appears to believe strongly in what they're doing, which is even more disconcerting.

The singer reminds me of a harsher and less charismatic Pete Shelley, as he wails incoherently and hurtles around the stage. Potentially good songs such as "So Young" and "Nowhere Fast" (?) were drowned in a mangled mess of dissonance. How they earned the label of Mancunian Deviant Merseybeat I'll never know, especially when they so blatently lack melody and originality.

A pityful display.

Ro Newton