TREACHEROUS CRETINS: THE HALF MOON, PUTNEY, LONDON, 08 NOVEMBER 2026
(Special guest reviewer: Simon Prentis)

First set-list:  Cosmik Debris / Son Of Orange County / More Trouble Every Day / Dumb All Over / Cocaine Decisions / Stink-foot / Cruisin' For Burgers / Sleeping In A Jar / Mom & Dad / The Torture Never Stops / Filthy Habits / Down In De Dew / Love Of My Life / I Have Been In You / I'm The Slime / Mr Green Genes.
Second set-list: Village Of The Sun / Echidna's Arf (Of You) / Marqueson's Chicken / Khaki Sack / Läther / Duke Of Prunes / Society Pages / I Don't Wanna Get Drafted / Who Needs The Peace Corps? / My Guitar Wants To Kill Your Mama / Willie The Pimp / Montana / Peaches En Regalia / Muffin Man.

The Players: Sam Ward (guitar & vox); John Parkinson (drums); Alessandro Taglione (bass); Jen Parkinson (keys & vox); and Ollie Hill (trombone & vox).

So I knew they were going to be good. But there’s good and then there’s spectacular – and at The Half Moon the Cretins decisively delivered the latter. It’s easy to be sniffy about tribute bands (I certainly have been) but given that the great orchestras of the world are essentially tribute bands, faithfully performing the greatest hits of the classical canon, they should probably be cut some more slack. For if the great music of the post-orchestral world is to survive, this is how it will need to be done.

Not that there was any slack in the Cretins’ set. From the get-go the band was not so much tight as spine-tinglingly taut – absolutely on the detail, but also on it enough to allow themselves to have fun (an essential ingredient in any true Zappa experience). And what a smorgasbord of delight – a cleverly-curated collection of classic numbers peppered with deep cuts that surprised even veteran fans, from Läther’s Down In De Dew to Khaki Sack from Funky Nothingness. That alone speaks to a true reverence for the catalogue. Then there were the medleys: quite apart from the technical prowess involved, morphing seamlessly from Echidna’s Arf to Marque-Son's Chicken was an inspired, head-spinning piece of conceptual continuity.

Much of the material featured the ’88 tour variants, deliberately chosen for their rich arrangements. What made it all the more astonishing was how well this richness came through with just five players, to the point that at times – heretically! – I almost found myself enjoying the Cretins’ set more than the original performances. Much of this is down to the sheer exuberance of the band, ably fronted by Sam Ward – who despite his youthful looks owns the room with a confidence and a twinkle that adds another welcome note of authenticity, even without the snarling edge of the maestro.

And speaking of Sam: it’s long been a bugbear of mine that tribute bands, no matter how illustrious their pedigree, fail to deliver an authentic sound when it comes to The Big Guitar Solo. Their arrangements can be impeccable, the delivery note-perfect, but the guitarist so often reverts to some reliable familiar – be it Van Halen, Hendrix or Holdsworth. I’ve even got to wishing they’d just learn solos like the rest of the music, and play them note for note. But that’s not right either. Zappa’s solos were never composed in that sense. He never played the same solo twice, but that’s not to say that any old thing will do. However hard to define, there’s a signature aroma nonetheless – an audio umami that is distinctively Zappa. That’s the flavour Sam has captured. He doesn’t need to play a solo note for note (though he did just that with Duke Of Prunes). What he plays sounds authentic, because he’s mastered not just the characteristic cadences but the attitude, and has the stamina – and the chops – to ruthlessly pursue a musical idea along the full length of the fretboard.

It’s that focus, that passion and sheer love for the music that ultimately shines through the Cretins’ performance. But it’s not just the music. Despite his insistence that “It’s all entertainment”, political songs like Trouble Every Day, Dumb All Over and Society Pages still resonate today, and need to be invested with the bite Zappa gave them. This too, the Cretins delivered, and the greybeards in the audience loved it. But music and performances of this calibre surely deserve to reach a demographic beyond those of us who’ve stayed the course. I predict that one day they will, and Sam and his cohorts will be leading the charge!