The Low Miffs

The build up to Scotland's May election has offered more drama than a year of River City ever could. Objective reporting’s become as obsolete as a Tory MSP; the labyrinthical voting system will rule out half the electorate on a technicality; and Stagecoach’s barrister of morality Brian Souter is bankrolling the charge to independence. All this and I haven’t even mentioned Tommy Sheridan’s tangerine tan.

It’s perhaps fitting then that The Low Miffs take to the stage just minutes from Hollyrood’s garish Parliamentary monstrosity with their own unique form of tartan-clad electioneering.

Exquisitely attired frontman Leo Condie certainly exudes the inner-confidence of an aspiring politician as he croons over the whip-cracking tizzy-pop of ‘This Is The New’ and the equally frantic ‘I Suspect’. Yet despite this infectious opening The ‘Miffs sound and look a little off-kilter tonight; as if pandering to the Bongo Club’s disco-punk-craving hoards has drained all valour from their bourgeoisie artistry.

But with the set teetering on the brink of Franz-esque diplomacy the writhing sax-led grandeur of ‘Mankind’ transforms the Glasgow quintet into a red-blooded throb of growling guitars and piercing drum-kicks. More rabid than a pissed-up Rain Dogs-era Waits cavorting in a Dickensian burlesque bar, the track unleashes Condie’s full-on showmanship as he prowls the stage with stalker-like menace.

The post-punk spittle of ‘Club Country’ revels in the band’s new-found urgency, clattering the crowd with a repugnant waft of slap-bass groove before surging head-long into ‘Where Are Your Songs Now?’. This vaudevillian opus is the night’s stunning highlight, with Condie crowing into his mike with all the lung-puncturing power of a re-gendered Shirley Basset while his band’s gothic boorishness crassly staggers into a saxophone-frazzled stupor.

Finishing with the relentless crescendo of ‘Earl Grey’, the band brings the short set – strangely devoid of the excellent 'Also Sprach Shareholder' – to a dramatic and utterly compelling climax. If this is The Low Miffs’ take on soapbox politics then they’ve left us in little doubt where tonight’s votes should go.