Nemesis To Go - Live: The Birthday Massacre

The Birthday Massacre
Psycho Luna
Sins Of The Flesh
Islington Academy, London
Saturday October 28 2007

Move on up, said Curtis Mayfield, towards the greater game. Wise words for an up and coming rock band. Of course, it's not necessarily easy in practice to do that essential moving up thing, but The Birthday Massacre certainly seem to be going in the right direction. Last time they came through London, this Canadian noir-pop group sold out the Underworld - a good result in itself, of course, and the reason why they've been booked into the significantly bigger Islington Academy this time round. Fasten your seatbelts, ladies and gentlemen. Upward trajectory in full effect.

To open things up, we have Sins Of The Flesh in full effect. And it's slightly different effect than before: this is a band with a past life that stretches back to their original incarnation as heroes of the old-skool UK goth scene, through excursions into technofied dancefloor hedonism, to their current status as the latest thing from the Japanese industrial-metal underground.

Yes, I did say Japanese. I also said industrial, and yep, I even said metal. Sins Of The Flesh's main man Jude has now relocated to Japan, and he seems to have reformed his band as a kind of give-the-kids-what-they-want hybrid of Nine Inch Nails and Marilyn Manson. The band's origins in the 'burbs of west London might make their claimed Japanese identity something of a flimsy construction - out of the five people on stage, three are English; one is Tim out of Brit-goth heroes Manuskript. But their ability to generate a modern metal racket is not in doubt. It's belligerently loud, the vocals are an angsty, assertive holler, and....well, it all sounds much like umpteen other bands working in the metallic zone these days. That might be part of the plan, I suppose - as I hinted above, the sense I get is that this version of Sins Of The Flesh is precision-designed to deliver exactly the kind of noise that the metal lovin' hordes want to hear. Establishing a unique identity does not appear to be on the priority list, and in fact might even count as a disadvantage in this cultural zone.

But then, in a sense, this music isn't for me. I'm nowhere near Sins Of The Flesh's target demographic. I'm about 20 years too old, my angst-levels are reassuringly low these days, and anyway, I don't do metal. So, I retire to the bar and allow the band's thrashings and roarings to pass me by, like a distant thunderstorm. Wake me when the sun comes out again.

The appearance on stage of Psycho Luna probably counts as moonrise, given their name. Well, let's venture back into the observatory and see what delights await us this time. Psycho Luna are another modern metal band, this time from Germany (really from Germany: there are no international fig leaves tenuously stuck in place here). They, too, make all the right noises, and have a frontman who combines a winsomely good-looking appearance with some unconvincingly manic trainee rock god moves.

Psycho Luna's music certainly seems to psych him up, although personally I'm just standing here, waiting for the spark to catch. Clearly, the kidz down the front dig it, for the band never lack appreciative bursts of applause as each song rumbles to a conclusion. But for me, it all tends to blend into a formless mass of middle-of-the-road metal; nothing is distinctive enough to stand out, nothing grabs my attention sufficiently to make me think, 'Ah, this is a good one.' In fact, I can barely distinguish between the songs. While the band are obviously decent musicians, eminently capable of kicking their rockin' noise around a bit, the fact remains that bland competence is no substitute for an idea or two. For want of anything more interesting to do, I find myself staring blank-eyed at the bassist's chunky-knit hiking socks, which are so incongruous compared to her otherwise glacially cool rock chick appearance that I can only conclude she's wearing them for a bet. But it's coming to something when the most interesting thing about a band is the bass player's socks.

The Birthday Massacre, for all their spooky-ooky imagery and dragged-through-Hot-Topic-backwards indie-noir style, are nevertheless a pop group, pure and simple. They might attempt a certain after-hours glamour, but in truth they don't so much stare into the heart of darkness as tweak darkness playfully on the nose. They leap and twirl and bound around on stage, with all the gleeful energy of The Birthday Massacre schoolchildren let out five minutes early from double maths. Chief among the leapers and twirlers is Chibi, the band's irrepressibly upbeat vocalist, who spends the entire show in a frenzy of excitable hyperactivity, gurning wide-eyed at the audience all the while. Chibi has an endless repertoire of goofy bug-eyed faces - one day the wind will change, and she'll find her face stuck in a comedy 'Who, me?' expression - and tonight she gives us the lot, in an unstoppable stream of whimsical pop-punk daffiness.

It says much for Chibi's disarming charm that this display of rampant dippiness does not become irritating: on the contrary, it fits in very well with the band's relentlessly pacy and energetic music. The guitars are a restless clatter and crunch, the songs reach crescendo after crescendo. In a way, The Birthday Massacre remind me of early Blondie, back when they did punky bubblegum pop songs about things like boyfriends and beaches and cars and beer. Blondie, of course, later went in a more self-consciously art-disco direction. Maybe eventually The Birthday Massacre will do likewise, exchanging their boisterously upbeat pop for a more studied take on contemporary sound, as expressed in a mash-up of guitars, bass, keyboards and drums. Maybe, one day, Chibi wil calm down enough to stay in one place for more than three seconds. But for the moment it's all leaps and bounds and that energy-infused dash through the alternopop undergrowth. It's a heady brew and it works.

What's the trajectory? Still pointing upwards.

Essential links:

The Birthday Massacre: Website | MySpace
Psycho Luna: Website | MySpace
Sins Of The Flesh: Website | MySpace

For more photos from this gig, find the bands by name here.


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The Birthday Massacre Psycho Luna Sins Of The Flesh Islington Academy, London Saturday October 28 2007 Move on up, said Curtis Mayfield, towards the greater game. Wise words for an up and coming rock band. Of course, it's not necessarily easy in practice to do that essential moving up thing, but The Birthday Massacre certainly seem to be going in the right direction. Last time they came through London, this Canadian noir-pop group sold out the Underworld - a good result in itself, of course, and the reason why they've been booked into the significantly bigger Islington Academy this time round. Fasten your seatbelts, ladies and gentlemen. Upward trajectory in full effect. To open things up, we have Sins Of The Flesh in full effect. And it's slightly different effect than before: this is a band with a past life that stretches back to their original incarnation as heroes of the old-skool UK goth scene, through excursions into technofied dancefloor hedonism, to their current status as the latest thing from the Japanese industrial-metal underground. Yes, I did say Japanese. I also said industrial, and yep, I even said metal. Sins Of The Flesh's main man Jude has now relocated to Japan, and he seems to have reformed his band as a kind of give-the-kids-what-they-want hybrid of Nine Inch Nails and Marilyn Manson. The band's origins in the 'burbs of west London might make their claimed Japanese identity something of a flimsy construction - out of the five people on stage, three are English; one is Tim out of Brit-goth heroes Manuskript. But their ability to generate a modern metal racket is not in doubt. It's belligerently loud, the vocals are an angsty, assertive holler, and....well, it all sounds much like umpteen other bands working in the metallic zone these days. That might be part of the plan, I suppose - as I hinted above, the sense I get is that this version of Sins Of The Flesh is precision-designed to deliver exactly the kind of noise that the metal lovin' hordes want to hear. Establishing a unique identity does not appear to be on the priority list, and in fact might even count as a disadvantage in this cultural zone. But then, in a sense, this music isn't for me. I'm nowhere near Sins Of The Flesh's target demographic. I'm about 20 years too old, my angst-levels are reassuringly low these days, and anyway, I don't do metal. So, I retire to the bar and allow the band's thrashings and roarings to pass me by, like a distant thunderstorm. Wake me when the sun comes out again. The appearance on stage of Psycho Luna probably counts as moonrise, given their name. Well, let's venture back into the observatory and see what delights await us this time. Psycho Luna are another modern metal band, this time from Germany (really from Germany: there are no international fig leaves tenuously stuck in place here). They, too, make all the right noises, and have a frontman who combines a winsomely good-looking appearance with some unconvincingly manic trainee rock god moves. Psycho Luna's music certainly seems to psych him up, although personally I'm just standing here, waiting for the spark to catch. Clearly, the kidz down the front dig it, for the band never lack appreciative bursts of applause as each song rumbles to a conclusion. But for me, it all tends to blend into a formless mass of middle-of-the-road metal; nothing is distinctive enough to stand out, nothing grabs my attention sufficiently to make me think, 'Ah, this is a good one.' In fact, I can barely distinguish between the songs. While the band are obviously decent musicians, eminently capable of kicking their rockin' noise around a bit, the fact remains that bland competence is no substitute for an idea or two. For want of anything more interesting to do, I find myself staring blank-eyed at the bassist's chunky-knit hiking socks, which are so incongruous compared to her otherwise glacially cool rock chick appearance that I can only conclude she's wearing them for a bet. But it's coming to something when the most interesting thing about a band is the bass player's socks. The Birthday Massacre, for all their spooky-ooky imagery and dragged-through-Hot-Topic-backwards indie-noir style, are nevertheless a pop group, pure and simple. They might attempt a certain after-hours glamour, but in truth they don't so much stare into the heart of darkness as tweak darkness playfully on the nose. They leap and twirl and bound around on stage, with all the gleeful energy of schoolchildren let out five minutes early from double maths. Chief among the leapers and twirlers is Chibi, the band's irrepressibly upbeat vocalist, who spends the entire show in a frenzy of excitable hyperactivity, gurning wide-eyed at the audience all the while. Chibi has an endless repertoire of goofy bug-eyed faces - one day the wind will change, and she'll find her face stuck in a comedy 'Who, me?' expression - and tonight she gives us the lot, in an unstoppable stream of whimsical pop-punk daffiness. It says much for Chibi's disarming charm that this display of rampant dippiness does not become irritating: on the contrary, it fits in very well with the band's relentlessly pacy and energetic music. The guitars are a restless clatter and crunch, the songs reach crescendo after crescendo. In a way, The Birthday Massacre remind me of early Blondie, back when they did punky bubblegum pop songs about things like boyfriends and beaches and cars and beer. Blondie, of course, later went in a more self-consciously art-disco direction. Maybe eventually The Birthday Massacre will do likewise, exchanging their boisterously upbeat pop for a more studied take on contemporary sound, as expressed in a mash-up of guitars, bass, keyboards and drums. Maybe, one day, Chibi wil calm down enough to stay in one place for more than three seconds. But for the moment it's all leaps and bounds and that energy-infused dash through the alternopop undergrowth. It's a heady brew and it works. What's the trajectory? Still pointing upwards. Essential links: The Birthday Massacre: Website \| MySpace Psycho Luna: Website \| MySpace Sins Of The Flesh: Website \| MySpace For more photos from this gig, 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.