DV8 Fest
Part 2 - Bands in order of appearance:
No Tears
The Last Cry
XII
Devilish Presley
UK Decay
Specimen
The Duchess, York
Saturday July 23 2011
Back in the bunker for the second day of our edited-highlights DV8 experience. Other venues across town are seething with assorted bands, but we're here at The Duchess to catch just six, representing the old school of goth and some slightly newer contenders.
I say 'slightly newer' rather than new, because although our openers, French post-punkers No Tears are new to me, they actually formed in 2003, which means they've been knocking around for eight years before pitching up in York today.
I suspect the members of the band have histories that go back ever further, since - not to put too fine a point on it - nobody on stage is exactly a fresh-faced teen. Maybe that's the reason the band have the essential post-punky racket nailed: experience shows.
And yes, No Tears do make a good, taut, no-shit noise, although they do seem to be one of those bands that's got the sound, but not the songs. I'm hard pressed to retain any elements of their songs in my head, even as the band plays them right in front of me. It's boilerplate post-punk, really - done well, but without the maverick spark of inspiration that separates the great bands from the not-bad bands.
The Last Cry certainly have some history behind them, I remember a friend of mine was on the band's mailing list at some point in the 1980s, when 'mailing list' meant photocopied newsletters sent out to fans. Then, the band was a fairly typical alternorock outfit for the time, which meant they sounded a little bit Cure, a little bit Cult, a little bit Gene Loves Jezebel. There was a lot of it around back then - probably a bit too much for every band of that ilk to grab a share of success. At any rate, The Last Cry never quite broke big.
But The Last Cry staged a comeback a few years ago, and they've been popping up on the UK goth gig circuit at irregular intervals ever since. I remember a cooking gig at the Slimelight a few years back, when the band's manic drummer nearly stole the show.
This time, alas, there's no manic drummer. Just some sensible programmed beats, which do rather take the edge off. But the band's vocalist hurls himself into the performance with much theatrical intensity, grimacing and gesticulating behind his incongruous Elvis Presley microphone, and the band succeed in whipping up something of a storm - and yes, they still sound a little bit Cure, a little bit Cult, and a little bit Gene Loves Jezebel.
Now it seems we're in for a heavy metal interlude, whether we like it or not. XII - presumably pronounced 'Twelve' - are a metal power trio who contain one of Carl McCoy's ex-sidemen. Apparently. I wouldn't know, personally. There are umpteen ex-sidemen of the mighty McCoy knocking around these days, and most of 'em seem to turn up in forgettable heavy metal bands at some point or another. I stopped taking any notice long ago, but it seems someone is sufficiently impressed by the magic Nephilim connection to inflict XII upon us.
The bassist and guitarist surround themselves with piles of backline: enough speaker cabs to fill an enormodome stage. The spectacle of the heaped-up hardware would be funny if I thought the lads were cocking an ironic snook at wannabe rock star pretensions. Unfortunately, I fear they're just pretentious wannabe rock stars.
They knock out a gormless, anonymous metal racket that's not even distinctive enough to be actively offensive. It's just dull. The crowd thins out noticeably, until the band find themselves making a tedious blare to a handful of diehards and a wide expanse of empty floor. In the end, XII end up playing to fewer people than the opening band. There's a message for you there, gentlemen. There's also a message for DV8: who thought it was a good idea to book this lot in the first place?
I seem to have missed all sorts of upheavals in the Devilish Presley camp since I last saw the band play. Jacqui Vixen and Johnny Navarro, the two principal Presleys, gained a drummer and lost him again, then acquired a bassist and lost him again. Jacqui became the lead vocalist, and then wasn't. Whatever happens to them, Devilish Presley always end up returning to what we can probably now call the classic line-up. That's what we've got tonight: Johnny, most vocals and guitar, Jacqui, other vocals and bass. And a drum machine.
It's probably the drum machine that ensures that Devilish Presley always end up returning to the goth scene, too. For all their excursions into the world of punk, rock, and psychobilly, the band seem to be attached to the goth scene by a bungee rope.
Elsewhere in the crazy old world of rock 'n' roll, a drum machine is a no-no. In the goth scene, it's almost obligatory. The goth scene might have many limitations, but it's practically the only place bands don't get judged for their rhythm-generation choices. And that's why Devilish Presley - who otherwise would probably be cult stars by now, a hooligan version of The Raveonettes - have never quite managed to get away from goth.
So here comes the classic Devilish Presley line-up, doing the classic Devilish Presley thing. The set is - of course - a good old rumbustious rock 'n' roll kickabout, slabs of glammy guitar rolling and tumbling over the unadorned machine-beat.
Devilish Presley's genius is to keep the drum programming starkly simple: no fills, no frills, not even a drum roll. The band clearly subscribe to John Lennon's theory of rock songwriting: "Say what you want, simple English, make it rhyme and put a back beat on it." Devilish Presley would probably add, "And crank it up!", because they're certainly doing that tonight.
The big finish is the traditional set-end stormer, 'Black Leather Jesus', with the audience, as ever, invading the stage. Yes, this is Devilish Presley doing what they do. I can use words like 'classic', 'traditional' and 'as ever' without a hint of irony. You know what you're going to get, and while that's a good thing - because what you get is a fine blast of r 'n' r - it does mean that Devilish Presley have become a band you can dip in and out of, like a buffet supper with a familiar menu.
Now a few years on from their much-vaunted reformation in 2008, UK Decay find themselves in a slightly odd position. The initial excitemment over the comeback of one of the key bands of the 80s proto-goth period has faded somewhat, and UK Decay now have to win attention more or less as just another band working the gig circuit. In short, it's all down to what they do, rather than what they've done. If the band plans to stick around - and there's talk of a new album in the air - they're going to have to put some work into establishing UK Decay as contemporary contenders.
I'm not sure if the band's old-school fans will allow that to happen, mind. The UK Decay Barmy Army (veteran campaigners division) is well represented down the front tonight. As the band come on, a gentlemen of a certain age shouts out, "We've waited years for this!" Given that UK Decay's reformation is no longer new news, I can't help thinking he's waited a bit longer than he needed to. But the band hit the stage with all their snap and crackle intact, and proceed to demolish their post-punk song-stack with easy verve.
Bassist Eddie Branch is a looming presence, as implacable as a brick wall, but his basslines are fluid, pooling around spikes of guitar. Vocalist Abbo leans into the crowd, rather more genial and affable than the tightly-wound young punker he used to be, but the band still has the ability to blow up a dramatic storm. 'For My Country', probably UK Decay's most histrionic moment, retains all its blood and guts tonight. It'll be interesting to see if the band can match that on the new stuff. The jury's out, but the omens are good.
And now another band from the old-schoolers-who-reformed-a-while-ago club. Specimen, of course, practically invented the glammy, louche, horrorshow end of goth, round about the same time as UK Decay were setting out their stall at the post-punky melodrama end of the market.
Fast forward two decades or so, and here we all go again. This time round, of course, we all know what to expect. The shock of the new is replaced by familiar fun.
But Specimen are fun, a hip-swaying floozy of a band, a glam pantomime on ten legs.
Keyboard player Jonny Slut - Specimen's most recognisable member back in his days of big hair, and still the one everybody instinctively pictures when the band name is mentioned - isn't in this line-up. Vocalist Ollie Wisdom and guitarist Jon Klein jointly front the show. Ollie, wrapped in a PVC catsuit and a broad grin, vamps it up while Jon is stoic and reserved in an Elizabethan ruff, a long suffering Jeeves to Ollie's blithe Bertie Wooster. They're a great double act, but if Jonny's absence is permanent, and not just because he's washing his hair tonight, the Specimen dynamic is going to be decidedly skewed in the future.
Maybe we're already seeing a shift of emphasis, for tonight Specimen are a heavy-duty guitar band, riffs slamming like colliding trucks. Fortunately, Specimen's songs are plenty strong enough to withstand the max-heaviosity onslaught - "Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang' packs a particularly weighty wallop.
Is this the future, then? Specimen as the Led Zeppelin of glam-goth? Stranger things have happened. But not much stranger.
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On to DV8 Fest part 3 here. Back to DV8 Fest part 1 here.
Specimen: Website | MySpace | Facebook UK Decay: Website | MySpace | Facebook Devilish Presley: Website | Facebook The Last Cry: MySpace | Facebook No Tears: Website | MySpace | Facebook
For more photos from the DV8 Fest, find (some of) the bands by name here. |
