Tonight, in this city, four shapely (one more shapely than the other three) Californian girls have come to rock and roll, with more hair than is absolutely necessary, and with a out and out good time attitude the kindly folk of Manchester are about the be introduced to the sub rock punk fun time fuzz bomb that is The Donnas. Armed with good skin, Les Pauls, cheery dispositions and an alarming degree of hair product, the scene is set and the stage is ready.

The Donnas, for those who have yet to experience, this trans-Atlantic frolicsome foursome are the modern day equivalent of Brian Wilson’s ‘Californian Girls’. They spent their teenage years in daddy’s garage honing a thrilling cacophony of three chord power pop rock that will see us shaken to our very core tonight.

Immediately the audience is grabbed by the proverbials as the band take to the stage in a thunder of tribal drum poundings and power chord riffing, it’s real air punching territory, and the crowd seem happy with the arrangement. “You guys look like you’re ready to have a good time” opens lead singer Brett Anderson (not to be confused with the snake hipped, sexually ambiguous former Suede front man), “Yeah, I like this crowd”, before rattling into ‘Friends Like Mine”. The drum break provides more arms in the air type clap-a-long-a-thon behaviour before the song explodes back into life. Make no mistake, this is rock kid, and you better be ready for it. ‘It’s So Hard’ is the point where I, oddly enough, notice just how much hair this lot have between them, I’d say enough to fill a rather large wheel-barrow, but that’s not really why we’re here, but fittingly enough, they do strike me as a kind of new format Californian girl group, a Bangles for the disaffected generation, a Shirelles for doomed youth.

An old song is introduced, and it turns out to be ‘Hook It Up’ from their ‘Get Skintight’ days, it’s real blues-y uber-riffing rock and roll that would have Buddy Holly and the Big Bopper jiving from beyond the grave. What follows next, is however a little bit suspect, the girls start throwing out ‘gifts’ to whoever in the audience can shout the loudest, it sort of makes the whole thing seem like a rock and roll pantomime, and I start to wonder if this lot are the ‘Steps’ of the Californian rock world.

‘Is That All You’ve Got For Me?’ is more of the same, intensely rhythmic drum driven pounding, whilst Allison Robertson rips it all to shreds with classic, biting hooks spewing forth from her trusty Les Paul. “Are you ready to get mental...are you ready to get mental’ screams Anderson over and over before they launch into ‘Takes One to Know One’. Whilst reclaiming some of their integrity The Donnas still make this sound something like the soundtrack to Meatloaf’s roller disco. It’s almost becoming a pale parody of what they have committed to tape, it’s what a loner teenager would hear whilst riding Satan’s pizza delivery moped.

‘Who Invited You’ and ‘Five O’Clock in the Morning’ close the set proper. The former a single note solo salvo straight from rock and roll heaven or hell, I’m not entirely convinced either way; the latter a throbbing, pulsating riff-o-rama, a dedicated hands aloft clap-a-long with a scintillating guitar solo. And with that, The Donnas are gone for a pre-arranged close set/come back for encore fix. Forty five minutes, not really a full days work is it?

The encore is introduced with Anderson explaining to the masses that bass player Maya Ford has been throwing up all tour (well, she is heavily pregnant) and that we are a bit mean for wanting them back. Oh, rock and fucking roll. Allison Robertson swaps her Les Paul for an SG and delivers a much more raspier workout during ‘Fall Behind Me’, this earns the money for tonight alone. The inter song banter continues, and continues some more, maybe a little too much. “I blame Chris Rock” says the photographer, and you know what, he may be right.

In all it’s great, fun, jumping around stuff. Whether it’s altogether a serious rock and roll proposition is still up for debate, but the crux of the matter is this – if it’s great rock and roll, played at full throttle by a bunch of shapely Californian chicks wielding guitars and kudos then I’m up for it. If it’s Steps, then I’ll leave it alone.

Lets Rock.

Words by Johnny Mac
Photographs by Steve Devine

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