Tragedy - Audio (Glasgow - 28/02/17) -A. Main

It's the morning after the night before and I have woken bleary eyed with ticker tape in my hair and glitter in my boxer shorts.
Fragmented memories begin to reach out to each other and the previous evenings shenanigans begin to come into focus and I smile.

Hell yeah Tragedy were good, better than good.

When it comes to metal disco they crank it up hard.
As a Tragedy virgin my cherry was well and truly popped, and yes it is true, once you go Tragedy you don't go back.

Latex, spandex, metallic hot pants, tassles, leather, studs, sailor boy outfits, inflatable dolls.
It could have been a Frankie Goes to Hollyweird aftershow party.
Bring on the dancing horses and midgets with trays of coke on their heads.
Okay scratch the horses and midgets.
Maybe in my excitement I've went too far, but dammit this band could bring the party to a wake and have the recently deceased up on their feet busting a move while waiving their hand horns around.

Headbanging disco-a-go-go par excellence.

When anyone dares to call them 'just' a covers band you have my permission to slap that slur right out of their durty mouth.*
Tragedy are far more than that.
From rock takes on classic pop hits to live mash-ups they excel at melding the melody and the groove together to build a new monster.
A big bright shiny over the top Godzilla fighting King Kong in a glittery mankini monster.
The Bee Gees covers that they are know for are just the springboard into more musical madness.
Gerry Rafferty, Prince, Neil Diamond, and so many more are turned inside out by Tragedy and driven off towards a new direction.
To call it genius would be an understatement.
As musical journeys go they are dragging you down the rabbit hole with them.

And then sprinkled over all of this musical madness is a liberal amount of comedy chat that leaves Steel Panther behind in their dust.
You think those guys are funny?
Well okay they are, but they don't have towel boy Lance.
Props are his game, and he has one for every occasion.
If he isn't pulling an infinite stream of paper from his mouth, molesting a sex doll, firing ticker tape into the air, skipping through clouds of glitter, or playing a flying v uke, then you can he assured that he will fill the moment of being propless by dry humping a band member.
He is the horny manchild monkey from special ed that no one is sure if they love him, or just tolerate him.

A fuck you Lance chant blossoms loudly from sections of the crowd at times and he basks in the tongue in cheek negative adulation.
He bloody loves it.
Yeah, FUCK YOU LANCE, you glorious towel boy extraordinaire.

I guess what I am trying to convey is that nights don't get much better than when you indulge in spending it with Tragedy.

* My lawyer says that for legal purposes I have to say I am not promoting violence and this was a joke.
Remember kids you should not slap anyone unless it is part of consensual sex play.