The Dirty Waltz are an Indie, garage, rock band, who hail from Salford/Manchester, whose talent is rudimentary that incorporates quintessential, British influences. Listening to their carefree and angst-ridden songs makes you want to have a dance in your teenage bedroom and put two fingers up at the world.
“Paris” is an accessible, catchy, post-garage song, with shades of Weller and Buzzcocks which is loyal to mimimalist punk. With laconic, deep, slightly oblique vocals, “Paris” delivers in a laid-back Mancunian swagger, whose lyrics encapsulates idealistic youth and angst: “I used to think that we could walk into the sunset… I used to think that we could walk hand in hand”. Fuelled by thumping drums, “Paris” is musically uplifting, with subtle guitars which then evolves into an unleashed, raw, random guitar solo. Rhythmically balanced throughout, it’s towards the end where it becomes more diverse and finally ends with a fast, “in and out” relay guitar arrangement.
“Whitworth Park” again is a fast, post-garage song, which could have been composed by Pete Doherty, with its rebellious, raw and wayward energy. Delivered in more unpolished vocals, Whitworth Park, sentimentally reminiscent of angst-ridden youth: “In the dark, through “Whitworth Park”, is where we lost ourselves….” Adopting more layered guitar arrangements which in parts are both self-contained and raucous, which morph into more reserved and calculated strumming, playing fiercely against the beating drums. However, just when you think you’ve regressed back teenage toil, the clapping drum interlude liberates the angst, adding a more sunny disposition.
You’re coming home with me
“You’re coming home with me” crosses“ The Dirty Waltz” into a rock-jazz genre and is lyrically their most accomplished song: “She walks across the rainbow, carrying her little surprise..” With it’s torpid trumpets and stoney vocals “You’re coming home with me” makes me feel like I have just entered some smokey, underground club at 2:50 am amongst the half-cut hedonists and those refusing to go home. It’s when the subtle synths emerge towards the end, the languid, laid-back delivery steps up incorporating a faster and more energetic tempo. It’s as if they have all sobered up which reinforces the chorus: “You’re coming home with me”, repeating robustly against a more synchronised, stubborn soundscape.