King's Cross Water Rats, London	Melody Maker
Mark Sutherland	19 December 1998

It's "official", then. The best records of 1998 were made by the likes of Celine Dion, Steps, Cher, LeAnn Rimes and 5ive. Catatonia? Pulp? The Manics? Don't even rate a mention, mate. At least, that's what the bigwigs at Britannia Music reckon, as tonight is the night of their "glittering" Record Of The Year show, attended by all the top pop nobs, in which - hello?- Boyzone will be hailed for making the Best Record of 1998 and the only vague hint of "attitude" will be B*Witched sticking their tongues out on camera. Your correspondent had an invite to said even, but spurned the chance to witness such high drama, in favour of checking out fellow young Irish women Chicks at the marginally less glittering Water Rats venue. I'm glad I did. Because if tonight represents the ultimate vitory for the middle-of-the-road duffers who have ruled the charts in '98, it also marks the beginning of the alternative fightback that will surely dominate '99. So, here we are then, in the company of slavering packs of Bratpop devotees and more than a little stardust of our own: there's Charlotte from Ash, look! And Tiny from Ultrasound. And that's Idlewild and there, most appropriately of all, are Marie and Emmy-Kate, who used to be in Kenickie. Previous Chicks shows, y'see, have reminded most people of the Kenick-sters' early forays into the outside world: marred by musical incompetance, but rescued by sassy banter and oodles of charm. Endearingly hopeless, rather than hopelessly endearing. Tonight, though, Chicks seem to have set some sort of world record for Growing Up: the odd bum note and off-key "harmony" aside, they exude musical confidence to the point where they hardly need to say a word between songs. We're on their side, already, see. So, Chicks, then. As B*Witched might ponder: what are they loike? Well, on the face of it, they may be three similarly youthful lassies dealing with the same hyper-real, crush-fuelled teenworld as Edele, Keavy and co. But -hurrah!- with less denim and more spiky guitar tunes than you could ever wish for. Like a punk rock version of J-17 magazine, they veer from Juliana Hatfield-esque fluffiness ("You Wanna Be Me") to Ash-style punk-pop exuberance ("Jackie Chan") to full-on throwaway thrash metal ("Daria"), seemingly without a care in the world, never forgetting to include a mighty tune, but never pandering to it, either. The end result - the dubious-sounding "Black Boy" aside - is a ridiculously enjoyable Bratpop pot-pourri that reaches its climax with the seething fury of "Fuck Music" - sentiments likely to be echoed by anyone who saw The Record Of The Year Show. But - hey! - chill out, dudes. This time next year, Chicks may not be celebrating kicking Boyzone's are in the 1999 contest, but you can guarantee they'll have made the world of indie rock a brighter place. Prepare to be bewitched. But not B*Witched, obviously.