By Black Manila
For the first three seconds it's beautiful. Then comes the celebratory yelp, akin to the sound a twitter sex pest makes when he gets a reply off one of the 900 sorry escorts he's been hounding. I can't make out any of the lyrics, but judging by the title 'Shake That Thing' it's probably not essential I know them. Hardly going to be an eloquent prose on the Spanish Civil War is it? What I can tell you though is that it's not a cover of that fucking ear raping Sean Paul number "shake dat ting mamabada".
This is probably where the review should end. Alas, it doesn't. You know me better than that and you know I like to be entertained. These three punks sound a pretty lively bunch so I search for a video and hooray, youtube is my friend. They're all dressed up in various costumes (Santa, an Egyptian and something that probably sits far outside my circle of atrocious cultural references) and larking about at the fairground, in a car and yes, at a house party. Sounds like my idea of a fucking horrendous evening, but nonetheless perfectly encapsulates the carefree attitude that resonates in Black Manila's music.
Pleasure at the fairground then, and Mick Hucknall is nowhere to be seen. Praise be the Lord. Praise be Black Manila.