Beverley

Like every band worth their salt, Beverley sound like absolutely no one and everyone all at once mixed in a lethal punk rock cocktail - a strut of Iggy Pop here, a sneer of early Adam Ant there, a vague whiff of Kurt Cobain's nerve-jangling howls - all filtered through the unique Beverley blender. Catch 'em live and you'll find yourself dodging frontman Jimi Scandal as he wildly jumps into the crowd, guitar flailing and shiny shoes karate kicking out. The band instantly own any venue they play - pity the poor bands who follow them on the bill cos it's guaranteed half the crowd will have lost their hearts, souls and balls to the trio from Hastings. They will rearrange your brain, ravage your ears, leave you gasping for more and then disappear without a trace - like the gigolo punk bad boys they are.

Yet if it hadn't been for a pair of box fresh black shell toe-capped Adidas trainers, Beverley might never have happened.

Wind back four years to a college in Eastbourne, where two of the trio were studying. One day future frontman Jimi complimented future bassist Maxwell on said natty choice of sporty footwear. The two thought nothing of this chance encounter, getting on with their music production course and playing in various local bands. Years later, when both boys were frustrated with their current bands, Jimi sauntered into the guitar shop where Maxwell was working. "I've left the band I was in" drawled Jimi. Minutes after he'd left, Maxwell - who already had a drummer lined up - realised he'd missed the perfect opportunity to ask the young whippersnapper if he'd like to form a new band with him. But it was way too late - Jimi had disappeared into the ether and there was no way of getting hold of him again. Maxwell spent the next four days frantically (well, as frantic as the horizontally-laid- back Maxwell ever gets) looking for Jimi's elusive phone number. Eventually, through contacting all manner of venues and ex- bandmates, his quest was rewarded, the pesky number found and - like all good fairytales - Jimi said yes straight away. Ploughing their way through a Spinal Tap-ish 8 drummers before finally settling on current sticksman Paul 'Sid' Mortimore, the threesome was now complete and the serious business of selling their lil' souls to rock 'n' roll began in earnest.

Like a punk rock caterpillar waiting to emerge, Beverley holed themselves away in their hometown, relentlessly rehearsing for months on end, playing every gig like they were opening Wembley and writing a fistful of some of the most vital, razor-sharp songs heard for decades. 2006 finds the Beverley boys in peak fighting form, chomping at the bit, with plenty of London shows under their skinny belts ("Everyone warned us that when you go to London you have to raise your game a lot - we were really worried. But we came to London and realised we're a lot better than any of the bands there!" - Jimi, in modest mode) and hungry for as much hardcore rock 'n' roll action as you can hurl at them.

Beverley now have a good ten new songs ready to go and are being courted by various record labels all wanting a slice of the supersexy Bevs action. Of their current crop of tunes, 'Sideways' happy slaps you upside yo' head with crashing guitars and Neanderthal drums giving you a wedgie for good measure. Possible future single 'Girl Go Getter' is the chunkiest of punka riffs set to classic rock yelps and howls, with Jimi on the rampage with evil intent yet again. (A promo of the song was shot featuring the band in immaculate suits but looking brutally roughed up - : "I got to smash up a telly at the end", Jimi grins, and you just know this isn't the last time he'll be in this situation). New song 'Johnny' is a pure rock 'n' roll/rockabilly stomp dealing with an unfortunate chap who fancies his mum and his kid sister - not based on anyone in particular, of course. Whereas violence, incest and bitchy ex-girlfriends are OK topics, Jimi doesn't do slush - his songs are all about the bungee-jump- minus-the- rope adrenaline rush, not hearts 'n' flowers 'n' violins. "Before, we tried slow songs and it didn't sound right with a three piece" explains Jimi. "I love the idea of putting our record on and there won't be any of those songs you can skip cos they don't fit in with the mood"

For the immediate future, Jimi wants nothing more than the every young rock god's noble dream - to be able to play in Beverley 24/7.

Maxwell, however, has bigger ideas for after they hit the big time.

"I see myself walking down the high street in a suit of armour"

And why on earth would you want to do that?

"Cos that's what you do when you're superstars"

Fair enough. A suit of armour complete with traditional codpiece, presumably?

"Oh, maybe not"