Live Review: Courtney Love, The Mercy Kills

All reserved seating either side of the stage is masked by curtains with only the balcony and GA sections in use this evening.

The Mercy Kills are comprised of two guys and two girls all styled (disastrously) to look the same. The BVs are discordant and this band sound like a shit version of Jet. One of their songs is a complete Rob Zombie rip-off as well. Frontman Mark E has nice arms, probably due to masturbating in front of a full-length mirror. After demonstrating his fire breathing skills, drummer Josh Black plays his kit with flaming sticks, which adds gimmicky interest, but The Mercy Kills have been around long enough to perform as if they deserve to be here (they don’t).

It’s 90 per cent oestrogen in the crowd and there are a lot of bad dye jobs – all the colours of the rainbow are represented with pronounced regrowth. Ravel’s Bolero is an intriguing choice of intro tape for Courtney Love. As soon as she appears, a neighbour in the crowd – who was also obviously an audience member during one of Hole’s Big Day Out appearances in 1999 – marvels, “She looks the same!” Two songs in, we’re treated to Miss World and Love’s voice is in irresistibly gravelly form. That’s one hellavu tight band she’s recruited as well, particularly mouthy guitarist/musical right-hand man Micko Larkin. And then off comes the tasteful drapery of her cream blouse to reveal a black négligée, which is a mistake given that no one’s armpits age well. Not that Love would give a damn. “This is me doing Stevie. It’s weird,” Love allows, before stressing, “she gave me permission.” Fleetwood Mac’s Gold Dust Woman à la Love, bristles with intensity. Malibu follows and Hole devotees collectively swoon.

Love encourages Larkin to sing some jingle and this in-jokery falls flat. She squeezes one of her own tits during a song and instructs a stagehand to sort out her mic: “It’s gone flaccid. Make it nice and stiff.” Jennifer’s Body is a standout (although a punter yells out a request to hear this song much later in the show and is branded “Lord Retard” by Love). She introduces a ballad: “It’s not from the fuckin’ ‘90s, but you’re gonna have to deal with it… And if you don’t cry you have no fucking soul.” But then, in true Love style, she climbs an amp stack during this song before perching on it spread legged and flashing her snatch (albeit through stockings – not sure whether she’s free-buffing). Love spreads some battered pearls of wisdom tonight: “Smoke fags, drink, don’t do heroin,” and labels the latter drug “so unchic”. She drinks “water” from a red cup throughout before announcing a need for “real water” and drinking it from the bottle. Skinny Little Bitch – with its ferocious, driving guitar duel – is addictively vicious. Love asks for requests and then shoots one punter down after demanding, “Articulate!”

“Dunc, I need a Lucky Strike!” Love demands before lighting up onstage. Violet, the Hole song inspired by Love’s relationship with The Smashing Pumpkins frontman Billy Corgan, is wonderfully brutal: “Go on take everything/Take everything/I want you to.” Love’s drummer comes out from behind his kit to hustle an encore and tells us of Love, “[We’ve] made her so wet,” before instructing us to scream out her name three times (like Beetlejuice?) if we wish for her to return. We easily oblige. She returns wearing a posh, black sequinned evening dress and takes her time throwing/distributing a bunch of roses. It’s a lengthy encore and a few punter yawns are spotted during Petals. Lyrics during closer Doll Parts – “Yeah, they really want you” – accurately describe the rapacious faces in attendance this evening. And if your heart doesn’t pang during Love’s delivery of the song’s closing line, “And some day you will ache like I ache”, you have no fucking soul.