I know that a gig is going to be my thing when the bassist checks the mic with the words “Testes, testes, 123.” I can’t help it. I’m terrifically juvenile.
Trannysaurus Rox aren’t a band who are trying to shock you for the hell of it, in fact, the sometimes four / five / six piece self proclaimed “butt glam” band don’t really give a shit what you think. They’re in it for the feel-good factor, with loud screaming fucking brilliantly loud rock ‘n roll acting as anti depressant par excellence.
It’s almost impossible not to get drawn in as you come along for the ride, enjoying stage antics such as bass player squirting breast milk gleefully into the thirsty guitarists mouth mid-solo. With a stage show like that, unfortunately, I think they might have ruined all other gigs ever for me – seriously who’s going to be able to top that? Unless Mike McCready is able to gleefully lactate on Stone’s face next time I see Pearl Jam I might just leave the stadium early and go home.
Now there’s some imagery for you. Clearly Trannysaurus Rox have rubbed off on me.