Nemesis To Go - Live: Drop Dead Festival 2006

Drop Dead Festival
Knitting Factory, New York City
Day 2: Saturday September 2 2006

Bands in order of appearance:
Big Ravi
Mortal Clay
The New Minority
Véronique Diabolique
Entertainment
Cinema Strange

It's day two of Drop Dead. We're in the intimate surroundings of the Knitting Factory's downstairs bar, and it's time for tonight's opening act. A small man in a big beard shuffles on to the dance floor. This, apparently, is Big Ravi. He mumbles some cod-mysticism over laptop beats. Sundry members of Din Glorious jump up and jump around, Mortal Clay which drops a hint, if we haven't already tumbled to it, that Big Ravi is a Din Glorious, erm, concept. It's a wild and hilarious idea...if you happen to be Din Glorious. For the rest of us, this would appear to be a good time to adjourn to the bar.

And now we'll un-adjourn, because it's time to welcome Mortal Clay, who pack the stage with hi-end hardware and proceed to get intriguingly weird on us.

They're performing a somewhat stripped-down version of the music on their Procession Of Spectres album, and while this means that some of the multiple layers and textures of their recorded incarnation have been dropped from the live sound, that's not a bad thing. The band actually sound rather good: direct and minimal, but with all the ideas to the fore. And in any case, that's got to be better than loading it all onto a backing track and then simply playing along.

The live version of Mortal Clay is like a graveyard version of Public Image Limited, all rhythm and wailing and sheets of guitar rattling like sheet aluminium in the wind. They're endearingly self-effacing and polite on stage - the music might be insistent and pointed, but the human beings behind it come across as disarmingly nice. That in itself creates a neat contrast - such naggingly assertive music, played by people who look like they'd never dream of pushing in to a bus queue. Incongruity rules.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Last year, on this very stage, I witnessed The New Minority get entertainingly messed to a soundtrack of rambunctious punker noise. This year, they're back, touting a revised line-up - say hello to Marilyn Monroe's glam-punk sister on bass - but for one gig only. It appears they're going to split up after The New Minority tonight. That's a shame, because the band have definitely pushed their sonic envelope somewhat since last year, and it's a pity they won't be pushing it any more. That rambunctious punker racket is still in full effect, but it's now unceremoniously shoved out into the left field zone, like the Mekons would sound if they really had been in a riot.

The band lurches and tumbles all over the stage in a flurry of limbs, and their noise lurches and tumbles out of the PA in a flurry of overdriven guitar. But underneath all that lurching and tumbling, there's a sense of control. The New Minority know which way their riot is pointing, and, mostly, it's pointing straight at our heads.

The set clangs and shudders to a climax, with random stage invasions by the audience striking a neat note of chaos - not to mention a special guest interruption by the Dun Glorious keyboasrd player - have you noticed howe Din Glorious get everywhere? striking a neat note of chaos. For all the lark-about factor, the band have real substance in their music. Or perhaps we should refer to them in the past tense now. They fall off the stage, and they're gone for good.
XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Veronique Diabolique Véronique Diabolique are a relative rarity at this event, in that they're one of only a handful of goth bands on the bill. They're also, apparently, a French band based in Durham, North Carolina, which must make them even more of a rarity. They keep it all fairly trad, giving us a take on ye olde gothic rock that doesn't contain any startling musical innovations, but has enough spark and verve to make its presence felt.

The singer (Mlle Diabolique elle-meme, j'assume) stands before us in minimal PVC, although oddly enough, given her risqué stagewear, she doesn't strut and preen like the cabaret queen she resembles. Instead, she maintains a reserved, just-one-of-the-band demeanour, letting the collective identity of Véronique Diabolique take precedence.

Over on stage right, however, the guitarist has no such qualms. Posin' till closin' in a frankly alarming pair of PVC shorts, he favours the assembled company with a repertoire of rockin' shapes that border on self-parody. I'm not sure if this shape-frenzy really works, or even if it's entirely serious, but it certainly gives the audience something to watch.

I'm in two minds about Véronique Diabolique - I can't quite decide if they've really got something of their own here, or whether they're just following the gothic rock rulebook with a bizarrely lop-sided stage show. One to catch again, perhaps, for a definitive verdict, and I wouldn't mind doing that. But I suspect I might have to travel to North Carolina to do so.
XXXXXXXXX

Entertainment are back with yet another new line-up, the gleam of their white floor spots announcing their presence. It's a simple trick - just bringing in a few extra stage lights - but it immediately sends a message that something different is about to happen. And, of course, it doesn't hurt to have a bit of extra illumination at venues such as the downstairs room at the Knitting Factory, where stage Entertainment lighting is apparently regarded as a decadent luxury the bands are expected to do without.

Shifting in the pools of light, Entertainment rev up their uneasy sound. It's a kind of post-Bauhaus new wave wailing wall, balanced precariously on rhythms that never do quite what you expect, the singer an animate mop of white hair in the white light.

And always that uneasy sound - music that seeps into your brain, rather than instantly-accessible alternorock. While this intentional awkwardness might mean the band are unlikely to cruise to goth scene superstardom any time soon, I think there's certainly an audience waiting for them on the post-punk side of the indie zone. I could easily imagine Entertainment going down well with fans of These New Puritans, for example. Rewarding stuff for anyone who's prepared to nail their ears to the weirdness.

And now, Cinema Strange, the encore. Back for a second set in appropriately adjusted costumes, and undaunted by the sudden chaos of the crowd crushing to the front, the band give us a suitably surreal pirouette through their illustrated catalogue of quality musical moments.

On this tiny stage, with the crowd mere inches away, this version of the Cinema Strange live experience contains rather less of the studied theatricalism of their big stage show, and a lot more punk rock. And yet somehow, in the midst of the brash informality of the set, the band still retain a certain distance, an indefinable mystery. That's Cinema Strange all over: you can get close enough to see the whites of their eyes, but you'll never know quite what's going on in their fevered imaginations.

As it happens, you can even get close enough to sit on the effects pedals. The same random bloke who invaded Cinema Strange's stage last night makes another foray now. Shouldering his way through the crowd, brandishing his camera like it's his all-purpose authority to do anything, he shamelessly parks his arse on the stage, right where guitarist Michael Ribiat is trying to put his feet.

The band exchange what-the-fuck glances, but play on. They're not about to cause a ruckus by raising any objections, but frankly, if I had the slightest scrap of authority at this venue, that man would get well and truly bounced. There's never any security around when you need 'em, is there? Ah, well, I suppose when chaos is in the room you've got to take the crap with the coolness, and we all know which side Cinema Strange are on.

Essential Links:

Drop Dead Festival: Website | Myspace

This way for Drop Dead Festival 2006 - Day 3

Back to Drop Dead Festival 2006 - Day 1

For more photos from the Drop Dead Festival, find the bands by name here.


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Drop Dead Festival Knitting Factory, New York City Day 2: Saturday September 2 2006 Bands in order of appearance: Big Ravi Mortal Clay The New Minority Véronique Diabolique Entertainment Cinema Strange It's day two of Drop Dead. We're in the intimate surroundings of the Knitting Factory's downstairs bar, and it's time for tonight's opening act. A small man in a big beard shuffles on to the dance floor. This, apparently, is Big Ravi. He mumbles some cod-mysticism over laptop beats. Sundry members of Din Glorious jump up and jump around, which drops a hint, if we haven't already tumbled to it, that Big Ravi is a Din Glorious, erm, concept. It's a wild and hilarious idea...if you happen to be Din Glorious. For the rest of us, this would appear to be a good time to adjourn to the bar. And now we'll un-adjourn, because it's time to welcome Mortal Clay, who pack the stage with hi-end hardware and proceed to get intriguingly weird on us. They're performing a somewhat stripped-down version of the music on their Procession Of Spectres album, and while this means that some of the multiple layers and textures of their recorded incarnation have been dropped from the live sound, that's not a bad thing. The band actually sound rather good: direct and minimal, but with all the ideas to the fore. And in any case, that's got to be better than loading it all onto a backing track and then simply playing along. The live version of Mortal Clay is like a graveyard version of Public Image Limited, all rhythm and wailing and sheets of guitar rattling like sheet aluminium in the wind. They're endearingly self-effacing and polite on stage - the music might be insistent and pointed, but the human beings behind it come across as disarmingly nice. That in itself creates a neat contrast - such naggingly assertive music, played by people who look like they'd never dream of pushing in to a bus queue. Incongruity rules. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Last year, on this very stage, I witnessed The New Minority get entertainingly messed to a soundtrack of rambunctious punker noise. This year, they're back, touting a revised line-up - say hello to Marilyn Monroe's glam-punk sister on bass - but for one gig only. It appears they're going to split up after tonight. That's a shame, because the band have definitely pushed their sonic envelope somewhat since last year, and it's a pity they won't be pushing it any more. That rambunctious punker racket is still in full effect, but it's now unceremoniously shoved out into the left field zone, like the Mekons would sound if they really had been in a riot. The band lurches and tumbles all over the stage in a flurry of limbs, and their noise lurches and tumbles out of the PA in a flurry of overdriven guitar. But underneath all that lurching and tumbling, there's a sense of control. The New Minority know which way their riot is pointing, and, mostly, it's pointing straight at our heads. The set clangs and shudders to a climax, with random stage invasions by the audience striking a neat note of chaos - not to mention a special guest interruption by the Dun Glorious keyboasrd player - have you noticed howe Din Glorious get everywhere? striking a neat note of chaos. For all the lark-about factor, the band have real substance in their music. Or perhaps we should refer to them in the past tense now. They fall off the stage, and they're gone for good. XXXXXXXXXXXXX Véronique Diabolique are a relative rarity at this event, in that they're one of only a handful of goth bands on the bill. They're also, apparently, a French band based in Durham, North Carolina, which must make them even more of a rarity. They keep it all fairly trad, giving us a take on ye olde gothic rock that doesn't contain any startling musical innovations, but has enough spark and verve to make its presence felt. The singer (Mlle Diabolique elle-meme, j'assume) stands before us in minimal PVC, although oddly enough, given her risqué stagewear, she doesn't strut and preen like the cabaret queen she resembles. Instead, she maintains a reserved, just-one-of-the-band demeanour, letting the collective identity of Véronique Diabolique take precedence. Over on stage right, however, the guitarist has no such qualms. Posin' till closin' in a frankly alarming pair of PVC shorts, he favours the assembled company with a repertoire of rockin' shapes that border on self-parody. I'm not sure if this shape-frenzy really works, or even if it's entirely serious, but it certainly gives the audience something to watch. I'm in two minds about Véronique Diabolique - I can't quite decide if they've really got something of their own here, or whether they're just following the gothic rock rulebook with a bizarrely lop-sided stage show. One to catch again, perhaps, for a definitive verdict, and I wouldn't mind doing that. But I suspect I might have to travel to North Carolina to do so. XXXXXXXXX Entertainment are back with yet another new line-up, the gleam of their white floor spots announcing their presence. It's a simple trick - just bringing in a few extra stage lights - but it immediately sends a message that something different is about to happen. And, of course, it doesn't hurt to have a bit of extra illumination at venues such as the downstairs room at the Knitting Factory, where stage lighting is apparently regarded as a decadent luxury the bands are expected to do without. Shifting in the pools of light, Entertainment rev up their uneasy sound. It's a kind of post-Bauhaus new wave wailing wall, balanced precariously on rhythms that never do quite what you expect, the singer an animate mop of white hair in the white light. And always that uneasy sound - music that seeps into your brain, rather than instantly-accessible alternorock. While this intentional awkwardness might mean the band are unlikely to cruise to goth scene superstardom any time soon, I think there's certainly an audience waiting for them on the post-punk side of the indie zone. I could easily imagine Entertainment going down well with fans of These New Puritans, for example. Rewarding stuff for anyone who's prepared to nail their ears to the weirdness. And now, Cinema Strange, the encore. Back for a second set in appropriately adjusted costumes, and undaunted by the sudden chaos of the crowd crushing to the front, the band give us a suitably surreal pirouette through their illustrated catalogue of quality musical moments. On this tiny stage, with the crowd mere inches away, this version of the Cinema Strange live experience contains rather less of the studied theatricalism of their big stage show, and a lot more punk rock. And yet somehow, in the midst of the brash informality of the set, the band still retain a certain distance, an indefinable mystery. That's Cinema Strange all over: you can get close enough to see the whites of their eyes, but you'll never know quite what's going on in their fevered imaginations. As it happens, you can even get close enough to sit on the effects pedals. The same random bloke who invaded Cinema Strange's stage last night makes another foray now. Shouldering his way through the crowd, brandishing his camera like it's his all-purpose authority to do anything, he shamelessly parks his arse on the stage, right where guitarist Michael Ribiat is trying to put his feet. The band exchange what-the-fuck glances, but play on. They're not about to cause a ruckus by raising any objections, but frankly, if I had the slightest scrap of authority at this venue, that man would get well and truly bounced. There's never any security around when you need 'em, is there? Ah, well, I suppose when chaos is in the room you've got to take the crap with the coolness, and we all know which side Cinema Strange are on. Essential Links: Big Ravi: Website \| Myspace Mortal Clay: Website \| Myspace The New Minority: Website \| Myspace Véronique Diabolique: Website \| Myspace Entertainment: Website \| Myspace Cinema Strange: Website \| Myspace Drop Dead Festival: Website \| Myspace This way for Drop Dead Festival 2006 - Day 3 Back to Drop Dead Festival 2006 - Day 1 For more photos from the Drop Dead Festival, find the bands by name here.
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Back to top	Page credits: Review, photos and construction by Michael Johnson. Nemesis logo by Antony Johnston, Red N version by Mark Rimmell.