Most bands get it completely the wrong way round. They start learning chords and ‘jamming’ and writing songs before they’ve even chosen a name or worked out what shoes they’re going to wear on the back cover of their debut album. Formidably hip Parisians the Teenagers are no cap-doffers to routine, having already set-up a MySpace page and groomed a legion of fans before they’d even rehearsed a note.
The first song they wrote was a ‘tribute’ to the first girl to message them online, called rather uncharitably "Fuck Nicole." The second song they wrote was a filthy 21st century take on Grease's "Summer Loving" called "Homecoming" in which a sweetly innocent American exchange student sings “I loved my English romance” only to be rejoindered by the earthier analysis of her London-based beau, “I fucked my American cunt.” Chorus of the year, obviously. Although The Teenagers have since disingenuously claimed that, being French, they didn’t quite realise the severity of the language they were employing. My opinion is that they are dirty enculés.
Anyway, The Teenagers (who are not teenagers by the way, which only adds to their perviness) have continued to stack up songs that sound like American teen movie anthems being thrillingly defiled in a Dalston basement and what they lack in expertise they easily make up for in swagger, chutzpah and insouciance. At 1am in a heaving Camden Barfly, they come on like the most priapic pop proposition of 2007.
Singer Quentin Delafon, sporting a baggy white vest and greasy tache, couldn’t look more sleazily French if he was puffing on a Gauloise and telling Whitney Houston he would like to “fuurk uur”. Appropriately, he invites a girl onstage to sing "Homecoming" who seems blissfully unaware of the fact that the song involves Quentin calling her a slut. Actually, even Quentin seems a bit embarrassed by that requirement, and the song descends into brilliant, noisy, guilty confusion, like a busted adulterous orgy.
An honourable mention this week must also go to the Allez Allez crew who confusingly are not French at all. As well as hosting a load of great mini-mixes on their website and DJing all over the place, Sam (formerly Deven Miles) and Steve run a monthly party at Plastic People in conjunction with the mighty Kompakt label who this week shipped over mussy-haired singing DJ Matias Aguayo and Brazilian lumo-techno spellbinder Gui Boratto. It was a night of tremendous music and conviviality that made the walls shake and our hearts throb.