(Translated from my original Italian text by ChatGPT and Piero Scaruffi)

Pop ruled supreme in Britain in the mid-1990s, and “next big things” followed one another in quick succession, each less original and more saccharine than the last. Bis set a new record: they were the first band ever to enter the UK charts without yet having been signed. They were also minors, which made them especially attractive to gossip magazines that no longer knew what to write about.

This Is Fake DIY (Teen C, 1996) and Kill Your Boyfriend paved the way for the EP Secret Vampire Soundtrack (Chemikal Underground, 1996), the record featuring Kandy Pop, which effectively marked a sensational revival of Scottish rock (Arab Strap, Belle And Sebastian, Delgados). These and Burn The Suit were later collected in the US on the EP This Is Teen-C Power (Gran Royal, 1997).
In reality, as the album The New Transistor Heroes (Grand Royal, 1997) shows, these Scots are simply humble disciples of the B-52’s: their specialty is feverish party dances like Tell It To The Kids. Alternating a touch of the Ramones’ frenzy (Sweet Shop Avengers), a pinch of ska-punk blandness (Everybody Thinks They're Going To Get Theirs), and a bit of girl-group carefree spirit (Popstar Kill), Bis deliver a series of sketches of adolescent playfulness.
The band members (who hide behind the ingenious pseudonyms Sci-Fi Steven, John Disco, and Manda Rin) are certainly not virtuosos: they excel mainly in the vocal parts, which they constantly rework and twist with undeniable imagination and exuberance.
There is no shortage of verve, which is what matters in a sub-sub-…-subcultural operation like this. Nor is there a sense of humor: many of the songs are performed like circus music (Starbright Boy), avoiding the pompous melodicism of Oasis. As always, in the end (from the Beatles to Bis), British pop still hides under the skirts of century-old music hall tradition (Mr Important).
As usual with Britpop, among the eighteen tracks there is plenty of filler, but on average the choruses are catchy, the danceable base is always engaging, and the arrangements are sufficiently eccentric (constant tempo changes, bubbling synthesizers, schoolyard-style backing vocals, and absurd breaks). In fact, behind the scenes one might even suspect a more theatrical Frank Zappa: Popstar Kill would fit perfectly on Absolutely Free.
They have nothing to say, but at least sometimes they say it in a genuinely charming way. In its own peculiar pop niche, the album is, for a few moments, a small masterpiece.