The Sick Livers were a legend in their own lunchtime around the South Wales music scene. Fronted by the larger than life behemoth Ginge Knievel, they were loud, proud and very (glam) punk rock. Their gigs were wild, raucous events, sometimes boarding on riotous, but always an enjoyable gathering of like minded people out for a rock'n'roll, good time. Two albums, countless tours and a ringing endorsement by Sex Pistol Glen Matlock ("The Sick Livers? Hate the condition, love the fuckin’ band!”) followed. And then, seemingly out of nowhere, they announced the end. One final gig and they sailed off into the musical sunset... or so we thought!

However the ghosts of Elvis, Johnny Cash, Lemmy, Sid Vicious, Screamin' Jay Hawkins, Adrian Street and several New York Dolls just wouldn't let the corpse rest in peace. They demanded the presence on earth (or at least in South Glamorgan) of a band equally as debauched. And so, Ladies and Gentleman, I give you NICOTINE PRETTY.

Coming out of the badlands of Bridgend the band - Ginge Knievil (vocals/guitar), Lewis Davies (vocals/guitar), Paul Black (vocals/drums) and Ian Pickens (Bass) - have thrust themselves, kicking and screaming, into the limelight. And to mark their appearance they have released an incendiary debut EP "THE DIY SINGLES", resplendent with two tracks of good old fashioned punk, the eponymous "Nicotine Pretty" and the equally hard rocking "Who's Gonna Save my Soul".

And how do they sound? Like Aled Jones serenading Katherine Jenklns resplendent with a Male Voice Choir in attendance? Fuck Off! This is the sound of an aural rock and roll panzer attack, crashing into your cranium like a punk sledgehammer and getting your heart and fists pumping in equal measure. With crashing guitars, pounding back beat, brooding bass, and the unique and unmistakeable vocals of Ginge, this is what music should sound like, not that heap of inane shite that comes out of my radio everyday. This is the spirit of Jerry Lee Lewis, injected into the Stooges and MC5, and vomited out by the Sex Pistols. It's music that hits you right between the eyes and laughs when you collapse in the gutter, a quivering mess.


With upcoming tours arranged with Dogs D'Amour and Jim Jones & The Righteous Mind, you can catch them live, if you dare. And, given that for the princely sum of £2, you too can own this CD there can be absolutely no excuse why every self respecting record collection shouldn't have six minutes of down and dirty, sleazy, rock n roll, in amongst the wasteland of Adele and Ed Sheeran releases. Buy this product!