Divorce

Divorce: definitely the ironic choice for a Valentine's date. As the Glasgow quintet cram themselves on stage, surrounded by the reassuringly DIY flyer-caked decor of Sneaky Pete's, the initial impression is that the next hour might not constitute anything approximating a Hallmark moment. Indeed, the quintet to wit, Andy Browntown, Vickie McDonald, Hillary Van Scoy, Sinead Youth and VSO form a refreshingly shambolic silhouette of hair, noise and feedback; charmingly described by punk ideologue Lydia Lunch as a "fantastic blast of No Wave thrash bashing like ungodly offspring sprung from Cuntzilla's incubator...a nasty mutation oozing a sickly runoff of infectious virulence." Well, something like that: Divorce are certainly shaded by Lunch et al's No Wave stylings, although expletive-ridden hyperbole is not an atypical occurrence as far as the lo-fi (no-fi?) bands of Divorce's ilk are concerned.

An attentive front row are eager to show their appreciation throughout the evening, and are patently transfixed by lead singer Youth's theatrical vocals; a chimera of externalized chaos and teenage nihilism last seen at a Bret Easton Ellis book club. Their eponymous EP, released on eclectic Glasgow label Optimo, has been doing the rounds since July and has gathered the Glaswegians what you might call a 'cult following'. Their consistently well-attended gigs are testament to that, and their growing reputation as the incorrigible noiseniks of the Optimo roster, and tonight is no exception.

There's a lot to recommend Divorce. They are, simply put, a force of nature in the flesh, and something of a disemboweling experience; a seppuku of reverb, thrashing instruments and explosive energy. Beyond the aggression and the baring of teeth, however, lies a structure to this feral display of songwriting: 'Juice Of Youth', among the gargling miasma and throaty pleas for children to "stay in line", best illustrates that Divorce are capable of tenderness, if only after a prolonged stamp on your splayed insides.