Velvet Condom
Savage Furs
New Noveta
Brave Exhibitions @ Bethnal Green Working Men's Club, London
Friday June 17 2011
When they bring out the polythene sheet, you know things are going to get messy.
The preparations for New Noveta's opening performance tonight involve waterproofing the dancefloor with a crackling plastic tarpaulin, hanging impromptu net curtains from the roof, and the strategic placement of a plank of wood. Once the stage is set and the props positioned, the Novetas themselves come out, and carefully orchestrated chaos reigns.
New Noveta appear to be an ART off shoot of Maria And The Mirrors. That's ART in upper case; ART as a threat, almost. At any rate, if you thought Maria And The Mirrors were out on their own limb, New Noveta are out of their bloody tree.
Two girls, dressed for the beach, fight and flail and make merry with wet mess. The plank of wood is hauled about the floor like a dead body, while, somewhere in the background, keeping a safe distance from the chaos, Maria And The Mirrors' electronix-controller Charlie Feinstein generates a wall of purple noise.
It's a post-industrial Coum transmission, and if it leaves most of the people in the room scratching their heads and saying "What the fuck was that all about?" then I dare say New Noveta feel their work here is done. Me, I dig it. I mean, noise, girls, mess, planks of wood - what's not to like?
Savage Furs, by contrast, are a normal pop group. For a given value of normal. They're like an 80s mutation, synthpop subversives who slipped through the pages of Smash Hits circa 1984 without leaving a trace. The singer comes on like Marc Almond's psychobilly big brother: his art nouveau curled quiff is a fine creation in itself.
A guitarist cranks out Gang Of Four-ish angularity, lending a no-shit bump and grind to the music, a touch of post-punk grit scattered over the shiny circuitry of the skittering synthesizers. Although Savage Furs are none more eighties in all sorts of ways, they nevertheless contrive to be totally twenty-first century, too. Perhaps their particular mash-up of influences could only happen now. Pop goes post-modern before our very eyes.
There's a hint of glam in Velvet Condom's name, and a hint of glam in their music, too. It's not just the band's line-up - hyperactive guitarist/vocalist, impassive, quizzical bloke behind a keyboard - that makes me think of Sparks. It's the rush and swagger of the music, too; the singer's thrashings and flailings are half way beteween Russell Mael and Marc Bolan, as his guitar generates blocks of fuzzy noise over the bubble and thump of the electronics.
Curiously, Velvet Condom describe themselves as 'shoegaze' on their MySpace page, and it's certainly true - disconcertingly so - that their recorded works are rather more restrained than the live incarnation, dominated as thery are by precise electronics rather than extravagant guitar.
But, on stage, the band seem to reinvent the Velvet Condom modus operandi. Everything gets whacked up to eleven, and it all goes a bit punk rock. Glammy punk rock.
The impassive keyboard-bloke keeps a steady hand on the controls, while his guitar-toting colleague leaps off the stage and gives it plenty of thrashy intensity, three inches in front of the audience's faces. Not what you'd expect from a listen to the band's recorded works, that's for sure. But Velvet Condom's instant reinvention of themselves, live and in real time, is an unexpected success.
Velvet Condom: Website | MySpace | Facebook
Savage Furs: Website | MySpace | Facebook
New Noveta: Facebook
Brave Exhibitions: Website | Facebook
For more photos from this gig, find the bands by name here.
