Probably the highlight of my short time living on K'Road - Auckland's cultural epicentre notorious for it's red light district vibe - was the gritty pleasure of spending an evening with The Blue Bloods prepping for their last gig in New Zealand before their Sydney-Melbourne tour in August.
"Sleazy garage rock" is the idle man's attempt at defining this four-piece; the raw truth straight from the guttermouth of none other than Kimmy Swanson, front-woman and K'Rd legend, is forced from her razor-blade lips straight into your very veins as she bleeds her enticing past from the streets over an open wound you thought you'd buried long ago - with a pinch of salt to season.
Kimmy had a little lamb, his shred as raw as blow - Spasms of manic gee-tar from baby (but far from sheepish) Mickey musically reiterate the poison that Kimmy's been administering, whilst Luke keeps the droning pace with bass and Mikey thrashes like a fish that belongs out of water - the evolution from sea to land; snare drum to ear drum.
But who am I to talk about the dynamics of music? I merely capture the scene in a flash of light, sweat and dust, thus I present to you these relics of K'Road history - The Blue Bloods.