Kerrang! 292 June 1990

MARSHALL LAW – Marquee London

SOMETIMES I really think it must be a scary world inside Marshall Law’s collective heads. After all, there is a thin line between commitment and insanity. There are times tonight when I’d really like to know what the band saw when they looked out across the mini-assembly of die-hard fans. I think they saw themselves at the top of the world,

Me? I saw dull space invaded by five shiny haircuts and a boisterous line in retro-Metal from the dark ages. Like the liberal use of handcuffs in their logo and stage-show, the leather strides and Roger Melly sticker on Roj Davis’ bass, Marshall Law trade weak and redundant body punches with straight ahead, red-neck rock ‘n’ roll.

And of course they have to live with the constant pressures of being heralded as the saviours of British Metal. Funny, that particular tag could be applied to Loud, New England, Atom Seed, the Almighty and everybody else, but never Marshall Law. The world needs a band who sacked their bass player for being “too short” at the request of a record company who still passed them up, like the world needs the Saxon comeback tour.

So ‘Poll Tax’ Was kinda fun. Yet they waste time trying to involve the crowd at the bar who don’t give a damn for ‘System X’ and ‘I can Feel It’. There are moments when it seems Andy Pyke doesn’t know who he wants to be: cheeky dick machine (‘We’re Hot’) or run-around comedian (Marquee, you can cheer louder than that!’).

Ultimately Marshall Law just ain’t Warrior Soul. There’s a big hollow grave where there should be songs. Marshall Law have all the shapes to throw, the cheek to attempt two encores and zero reason to exist.

And I’d still like to spend a day inside their heads.


2 responses to “MARSHALL LAW

  1. Chris’s review is pretty spot on for me. I saw them wit Exciter in St.Ives, Cambs around 1989/90 and they were full of energy and wannabe Maiden stage posing, but had no songs at all. By the third song the audience had left to go to the bar and I remember their singer spending the whole night insuting St Ives and saying how shit we were. Pot, kettle, black.

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