THE CHILLS Greenock Rico's

SOMEWHERE IN the shadows, a disembodied voice says it all: "I can't remember any of their songs, but they're f***in' brilliant." The Chills might not be the heaviest groove merchants on the planet, but they're always willing to showcase imagination. . .

There's no generic pattern which fully encompasses The Chills' stylistic, emotional and atmospheric range.

And though they open unsteadily, by the third song - the eerily cataleptic 'Pink Frost' - everything bar the live mix has come good.

The likes of 'Creep', 'Wet Blanket' and 'Dan Destiny And The Silver Dawn' touch on the indefinably Anglo pop vault of Barrett, Cope & Co - which might lead you to reason that, if The Chills were Brits, they'd have materialised in Liverpool sometime around '79. But whereas far lesser careers have been built on the sound of Teardrops imploding, here it's touted as only one of several options.

'I Love My Leather Jacket' is a good toe-tappin' shuffle and 'Look For The Good In Others', translates as down-the-line thrashing bedlam. Meanwhile, 'Effloresce And Deliquesce', 'Ghosts' and 'Rain' demonstrate an edifying precision articulacy and grasp of dynamites seldom encountered in things pop.

Yet no matter how intent they seem on pursuing things to the brink of chaos, they always remain firmly in control. It's not unlike finding yourself an involuntary passenger in a runaway car only to have it calmly roll to a halt inches from the precipice.

In the end, neither The Chills' electro gremlins - Andrew Todd is still waiting for a good keyboard mix - nor the evening's awkwardly vacuous ambience could conceal their masterly finesse.

GRAHAME BENT - Sounds, 19 November 1988