<< Back To Press Hot Press: Sweet Mangled Thing, Oct 1989 Chill Beads of sweat tumbled lightly down my face as my knees slammed together at a rate that struck me as somehow loathsome. The tape found my hand and the band left. What had I done? Oh, God.. the power of a well-worded press-release (in this case, a fleeting mention of the Pixies proved well-enough words). "Sweet Mangled Thing" .. hoboy, no prizes for guessing what this is gonna sound like. Ak! Several seconds into the first track and life suddenly acquires a flippant attitude towards gravity. That old maxim – ‘The nicest bands come up with the worst crap’ W. Somerset Maughan – fails to hold water this once. Irish newcomers Whipping Boy are a flexible flyer, a spandex truss (postcards only, please) a disreputable perm, a wholesome tweak. It’s nice to know that there’s someone out there who realises that this is NINETEEN EIGHTY NINE and not therefore a time of flowers and spiritualism and all that shite. Whipping Boy have a healthy obsession with cars, and sex, and living like you didn’t exists or you’re an that exists. They also make their guitars sound like spaceships taking off, which is never a bad thing. And so, "Highway Man" opens with the kind of seething cumulative blast so beloved of Sonic Youth; and overwhelming melodic wave that had me singing its praises to passer-bys after one hearing. Jeez, I almost had my parents moved to a more upmarket rest-home. But the song also highlights their most pressing weakness – an unwise reliance on bands like The Youth for pointers. Just as the name is a bit ‘WE ARE A HARDCORE BAND IN THE TRADITION OF ….’ So their music seems stuck in someone else’s groove. But the best thing about hardcore remains its ability to constantly reinvent itself without losing the thrill to be had from loud, LOUD and fast guitars, so I would imagine that The Whippets might share this ability to shake off influences with each passing song and acquire more distinct, more unique shapes. For now, however, there’s plenty of evil joy to be drawn from songs like "Velvet Crush" and "I Think I Miss You", but the standout tract on this mini-LP has to be "Happy", which ends the Whippet’s first outing on a suitably exuberant and violently scorched note. This could be a big thing over here. Don’t look over your shoulder. Graham Linehan