Like a favourite leather jacket, a good old Richard Hell/Modern Lovers-style clattering rock’n’roll racket never gets old, just softer and seedier. “Baby, c’mon, there ain’t much worth saving…” bawls Devin Therriault, accurately, but you know that when the rock’n’roll house burns to the ground in suspicious circumstances, this quiff-topped, weird-faced young hobbledehoy will grab all the right things off the nightstand and shimmy down the drainpipe to safety.
Emily Mackay
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