Melody Maker 8/3/86  The Marquee, London
"DOES anyone here remember Biba's Basement in High Street, Kensington?" asks the singer of The Thrashing Doves towards the end of their set. God, despite the band's late-Sixties "groovy London" look, they're surely too young to go back THAT FAR!
The band signed to A&M Records in the autumn of last year after turning down substantial bids from other interested companies. "I would have gladly spent my entire budget for the year to get hold of them," said one tearful A&R director who had been pipped to the post. They also happen to be managed by Dave Hill (who looks after The Pretenders) and are set to start recording their first single with Simple Minds' producer Jim !ovine. So what makes them so special?
They look like baby-faced rock'n'rollers sideburns are worn a la Brian Jones, a half bottle of Scotch is nervously passed around on stage between songs and haircuts are strictly progressive. Indeed, you feel as if an LP like the Stones' "Satanic Majesties" is of crucial importance to this band.
Musically they borrow from all sorts, but there's a twangy west coast tint to the vocal harmonies that suggests a passing interest in The Byrds. Alongside a traditional rock rhythm section sit Yazoo-style plink-plonks on the keyboards and a huge crashing Linn drum beat – it sounds quite confusing at first, but, given a moment to tune in, the listener becomes aware of something new that is quite bracing in context.
This may be why A&M paid over the odds in beer vouchers to secure their signatures. Songs like "Jesus On The Payroll" and "At The Grindstone" combine the traditional qualities of rock'n'roll with all the fun and games of a DX7 or Juno, and the resulting bastardisation sounds very 1986. For same reason, I started to think of Sigue Sigue Sputnik and their carefree rape of rock's dusty vaults.
The Thrashing Doves apply themselves to the job with the same admirable disregard for their heritage. They ended with covers of "Sympathy For The Devil" and Wire's "I Am The Fly", a convenient, though obvious, illustration of where the band think they're coming from. I see no reason why they won't be selling records by the bucket load by this time next year. JULIAN HENRY