Review: The Strypes at The Leadmill

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The Strypes are the most important band in music today. They swagger, they’re cocky, arrogant and incredibly young.

Live, this four-piece from Cavan, Ireland, is incendiary. The audience was taunted, pummelled and whipped into a frenzy by the relentless, sweat-drenched force in front of them.

Singer Ross Farrelly wore shades and a four-button tartan suit sharp enough to draw blood. If you can’t do that when you’re 16, you never can.

The Strypes will be accused of being revivalist, the illegitimate offspring of Keith Relf, Lee Brillaux, Slim Harpo and Ray Davies.

Nonsense. The Strypes are about here and now. Don’t believe the hype and focus on how good they are.

Guitarist Josh McClorey referred to Sheffield as being ‘home to the best band in the world’.

If that’s true, Alex Turner needs to have a nervous glance over his shoulder, at the attitude-driven chainsaw that is fast approaching.

For if The Strypes stay together and maintain momentum, they have the weapons to destroy all in front of them.

It’s impossible to imagine The Clash at the 100 Club in 1977 were more potent than this.

Coming out, someone said we’d seen something special. We had. And it will live long in the memories of those who were there.