SOULWAX London Astoria, 16 February Maybe it's because they're Belgian. You wouldn't catch any self respecting UK band pissing about to such a nutty degree, and they certainly wouldn't spend inordinate amounts of time trying to make Nik Kershaw tunes sound like Def Leppard for a living. And if they did, it'd be shit. Or maybe it's the drugs - like Chilly Gonzalez, the band work within a recognisable genre (in their case indie-rock with big glam choruses) but manage to sound nothing like it, distorting perceptions without seeming to try, confusing without being difficult. Hell, they even rock by the truckload without ever being rock-starry. Garbed like escaped mental patient Nu Soul Warriors, equipped with deadly bolts of lighting and neon in the shape of Mic stands, testifying in a language perhaps they don't understand, quite how Soulwax have risen so easily to the level where they can sell out the Astoria and see fans paying upward of forty quid to the ticket touts is a mystery. They're not particularly aggressive, arrogant, charming or blatant, as we seem to like our bigger indie bands. One suspects they'd sooner listen to a record than blow coke up Billie's arse in Shoreditch. Maybe that's it. Maybe we're secretly sick of twats, and want nothing but sharp dressed men with even sharper choruses to entertain us on a Friday evening. In which case, Soulwax could get as big here as they are in their homeland, where they have to DJ under false names, get mobbed in corner shops and have a bunch of loons called The League Against Soulwax posting turds through their letterboxes. Hurrah! Because on this evidence such gargantuan huge-ossity is certain - see the kidz lap up every chord, bounce with glee to the singles, and wave they' hands in the air cos they jus' don't care when Stefan gets his beat boxing shit on during 'Too Many DJs'. Incidentally, the band then spent the rest of the weekend clogging up the club line ups all over London, and were just as thrilling as they were here. Which is just unfair. UK indie take note. WORDS: Adam Alphabet PICS: Olly Hewitt   Taken from Playlouder 2001 Click here for the original