The Fratellis
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The Fratellis

Band Pop


This band has not uploaded any videos
This band has not uploaded any videos


The best kept secret in music


"The Fratellis, 14 Lloyd St, Manchester"

OK, let's get this out of the way right here, right now: The Fratellis are Glaswegian, build their songs around jerky funk basslines and disco-punk drum fills and sport the sort of Dennis The Menace-style garb that should've scored singer Jon Fratelli a spot as an extra in the "Do You Want To' video.
But hold that call to the art-rock cliche police! Any A&R scumsuckers here desperately searching for Franz's younger heirs should leave sorely disappointed. Tonight, The Fratellis prove themselves a much more ramshackle, boozy affair, rattling though songs called things like 'Dirty Barry Stole The Bluebird' with exuberant, wayward abandon. Drummer Mice, on the other hand, will just leave plain sore- despite breaking several bones in a pre-gig car crash, he'd ignored the pleas of his doctor, bandmates and common sense and is soldiering on in a back-brace. It's a fetching accessory that even manages to complement the rest of the band's bafflingly unique, street-scarecrow style.
However, fashion art-rock this most certainly isn't; the jangle pop of 'Whistle For The Choir', has, in actual fact, more in common with Scouse bands like The La's than anything north of the border sailing on an ocean of lazily-strummed chords, while 'Henrietta' is tonight's key song, treading the line between glam-pop and boozy pub-rock with perfect poise. "The is one to get this girl here dancing", announces Jon, motioning towards the front-row before "Baby Fratelli". "Hang on a wee minute", exclaims bassist Barry, "That's a boy!" The Fratellis, then: nothing like Franz and getting the lads dancing too. - NME, by Rick Martin


Still working on that hot first release.


Feeling a bit camera shy


So Mince was a stoner, Barry was a car thief and Jon was just a Jon. Through their mutual love of Strange Fruit they gathered to create the happilyest of sounds. Where stovable loners meet frustrated aristocratic nymphs, where shoe fetishists will go to the gang fight and where Stacie Anne meets the Budhill boys in the back seat.....

Didnt the boy done good! 'MON THE FRATELLIS ! "