HIS LORDSHIP

Imbued with the unquiet spirit of raw, unhinged rock’n’roll, His Lordship have stripped 21st-century post-rock sophistication back to a rip-snorting, souped-up skeletal chassis that’s part hot rod, part brutal assault.

There’s just the two of them – James Walborne covers guitar and vocals, Kristoffer Sonne supplies the beat – and they’re never more comfortable than when they’re bouncing in the red. They’ve got Jerry Lee snake-oil in their veins, channel Cramps, backwoods rockabilly psychosis and ooze an aura of bourbon-soaked sonic delinquency. But, says James: “We don’t want to be a fucking retro thing. We don’t wanna write about being in a Cadillac. We want to write about now.”

His Lordship, sonics set to ‘stun’, all cranked up and as edgy as an amphetamine breakfast, lean in close with obvious conspiratorial urgency: “To breathe new life into rock’n’roll. That’s our mission.”