Review by :
Quench Magazine - Gareth Paisey

Equal parts Gap models and scuzz-rock superstars, The Subways are as pretty as they are punky. Their Sleater-Kinney meets the Pixies-esque noise is the antidote to the coffee table rot that is set in the current crop of faceless British bands.

Billy looks and writhes like Craig Nicholls if he were to swap the drugs for smarties. Switching between frantic chords and neat hooks , tearing up the stage, he 's cooler than you and I and he knows it. Billy excels at putting on a show, aiming kicks at his sibling's drum kit whilst looking like every frontman should.

Never before have i had the pleasure of hearing a drunken Scotsman shout "take your top off love" at a boy. Josh flails, topless, at his drumkit, like The Muppets' Animal with ADD.

And then there's Charlotte. Every floppy-fringed guy's ideal woman. With the voice of a mermaid and the "don't touch me" presence of a supermodel. All that and, surely not, the songs are the perfect party soundtrack. Style And Substance? Woah.