Live Review
Hunx And His Punx
No Address1
Old St. London

“I just found the man of my dreams,” coos Seth ‘Hunx’ Bogart, taking a swig of Red Stripe and handing it back to the man in question, who is probably old enough to be Seth’s dad. Seth is, to put it diplomatically, a bit of a flirt; the singer spends most of the set either bent over the drum kit, waggling his pert little arse, or working the front of the stage, where the many potential men of his dreams are gathered, lager cans at the ready.

Hunx (and his Punkettes) open with ‘You Don’t Like Rock n Roll’, a burst of bubblegum pop by way of the Ramones, complete with handclaps between verses and lyrics like, “You like Morrisey, you like U2, what the fuck is wrong with you, are you deaf or just plain dumb?” Other songs brazenly stomp the line between sweet and skanky, sounding like The Crystals vs The Clash, lyrics courtesy of John Waters. By the time the band arrive at ‘Teardrops On My Telephone’, a track dripping with sugared golly-gosh naivety and driven by blissful, crunchy guitars, Hunx has stripped a leopard print mankini and leggings down to practically nothing, rubbing one extremely lucky punter’s face on his scantily clad crotch. It’s a shame: the songs are fun and clever… but in the context of a live performance, the music is somewhat lost, overshadowed as it is by Seth’s stage antics. I defy you to focus on the tunes when there’s a guy in an animal print thong and a fur pillbox hat, spanking himself with a tambourine and proffering pearls of wisdom such as, “If you wear contacts and you get cum in ‘em, they’re, like, ruined”.

By Polly Rappaport


Originally published in issue 16 (vol 3) of Loud And Quiet. April 2010