The Tiger Picks


the tigerpicks

Hometown: Manchester.

The line-up: Frankie Ross (vocals), Martyn Anderson (synths/keys), Emma “Reece” Leatherbarrow (vocals).

The background: They’re the synthclash Gossip. Ladytron meets Led Zep. Le Tigre produced by Moroder ’77. They’re into – and who isn’t these days? – garish neon-pink electro-trash, filtered through an unhealthy obsession with Aileen “Monster” Wuornos (true). Or they are, as the title of their debut single so neatly puts it, children of the disco-punk-electro-funk revolution.

The Tigerpicks, to be specific, are two girls and one boy who woke up one day – actually, it was probably the early hours of a Saturday morning after a wild, wired night out caning the Red Bull and party Smarties – and decided it might be a daft, or rather deft, idea to fuse Sigue Sigue Sputnik and Peaches, Suicide and Huggy Bear. And they’re obviously being taking reasonably seriously, not just because one of the world’s biggest multinational conglomerates has good money invested in them (“Ha! That means fuck-all!” – the now out-of-work man who signed Drum Theatre in 1984), but also because Richard X has been drafted in to produce their debut album of shouty vocals and synthesized shrieks, boings, squelches, bass-bombs and burbles. Altogether now: Pow! Pow! Pow! Pow! Pow! Pow! Pow!

The buzz: “The Rapture + Bis x the sound robots make when they die divided by disco drug abuse = this genius racket” – NME.