Nemesis To Go - Live: WGT 2007

Wave Gotik Treffen 2007 - Day 3

Bands in order of appearance:
The Illusion Fades
Felsenreich
Dope Stars Inc
Reflexion
Terminal Choice
Super Heroines
ASP
Lux Interna
Rome
Ataraxia
Agra and Anker, Leipzig
Saturday May 26 2007

Day three of our rock 'n' roll holiday, and I think it's time to brave the echo chamber that is the Agra. This is the WGT's largest venue, which plays host to the biggest bands. It's a vast exhibition hall into which a stage is incongruously inserted for the duration of the festival, and what it lacks in atmosphere and acoustics it makes up in sheer scale. Playing such a big venue carries a certain amount of kudos for the bands: even if you're way down on the bill, the reflected glory of being on the same stage as the superstars is something to covet.

On a slightly more practical note, opening bands can sometimes grab a larger than average audience at the Agra, for the venue's location is right next to the WGT market - a vast hangar, the twin of the band hall, which for the duration of the Treffen becomes a massive temple of alterno-retail. This attracts huge crowds throughout the day and far into the night, and if just some of those people venture in to see the bands, that can often be enough to boost the audience appreciably for the less famous acts on the bill.

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Felsenreich And here comes one of those less famous acts. The Illusion Fades open up the Agra today, and while I can't say whether they've got a larger than average crowd in front of them or not, I can say that they play an entirely forgettable blend of rock/metal. So, we shall grab a schwarzbier or two (no, better make it three, why stop just when we're enjoying it?) and await the next band, about whom I know nothing other than they're called Felsenreich and they're fronted by a scary vicar.

Yes, really. All decked out in the robes of a clergyman, Felsenreich's frontman hollers portentously and gesticulates extravagantly while his band churn out some high-drama folk rock. A female vocalist appears on stage, and the two of them set up a call-and-response routine, which is actualy quite effective, although I have no idea what it's all about. Possibly it's all supposed to represent the conflict between the ancient pagan forces of the earth (represented by the female vocalist) and the repressive forces of Christianity (represented by the scary vicar). But frankly I'm guessing here. I can tell you, however, that the band have a fake rock on stage, for no apparent reason. Still, you can't go wrong with a few polystyrene boulders around the place, that's what I say. I've got quite a scree of the things in my living room, as it happens, and they afford me hours of fun.

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After that baffling display, it's quite a relief to note that the next band are not about to hurl any weird concepts at us. Dope Stars Inc are no-shit rockers through and through. They're not here to express the eternal conflicts of the spiritual world. They are here to rock, in such a gleefully full-on gonzoid manner that it's impossible to dislike them.

They fling themselves at the stage in a frenzy of thrashing hair and thrashing riffs, all underpinned by a whumping machine-beat. This is rock for the modern age: no drum kits, just electronics. But you can be sure that everything's been pushed into overdrive. Dope Stars Inc rock it up like they're mainlining Aerosmith and Alien Sex Fiend in equal quantities - they're brash, colourful, and they never let up.

Except, for one song, they do: they take things down a bit for a slowie, and it's interesting to note that the show does noticeably sag like undercooked pastry at this point. Dope Stars Inc are definitely at their best when they keep the pedal to the floor, and after the 'sensitive' interlude they pick it all up again and sprint to the finish. Good stuff, but I think the Stars needs to realise that fast equals best as far as their music is concerned. Some bands just weren't born to play ballads.

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Reflexion The Wave Gotik Treffen always includes a smattering of metal bands scattered around the bills, and notwithstanding my oft-asserted disclaimer that I Don't Do Metal, I have no particular objection to this. Everything crosses over with everything these days, so throwing a bit of metal into the Wave Gotik mix isn't actually a bad thing. What I do object to, though, is being obliged to endure a set of characterless soft metal that trundles along without ever reaching anything you could call a climax.

That, alas, is how Reflexion strike me. They're a middle-of-the-road metal outfit from Finland, but if you were expecting the verve and swagger of Hanoi Rocks, or even the shamelessly cheesy rabble-rousing of The 69 Eyes, I fear they don't deliver. Reflexion is where Finnish rock gets a bit...average. The singer flings himself about in the approved rock god manner, but he can't make up for the churning ordinariness of the music, or indeed the blandly workaday competence exuded by his bandmates. I suspect that the band themselves realise, somewhere deep inside, that they don't quite have the presence to fill a big stage unassisted - at any rate, they've recruited two gratuitous dancing girls, who writhe either side of the stage in fetching boots 'n' PVC outfits. And very nice they are, too - but they don't quite make up for the fact that Reflexion just don't do it for me.

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If Killing Joke had not decided to follow the highway to heavy metal hell, they might have ended up sounding like Terminal Choice. Like Dope Stars Inc, this is a band which slams together the organic sound of rampant guitars with equally unrestrained electronics - although in this case they do have a human drummer, thwacking away surrounded by a fearsomely hi-tech kit. The roars of appreciation from the crowd - now large enough to fill the venue all the way back to the beer stalls - indicate that Terminal Choice are the band of choice for many people in Germany.

And this, by the way, neatly illustrates another odd little quirk of the WGT: it's often possible to encounter bands you've never heard of before who are nonetheless genuine stars in their own home territory. I don't think Terminal Choice have ever played in the UK, but here, they're the business. Their rhythmic assault never lets up: the singer, a mad captain in mashed-up military gear, hams it up at the front, feeding on the adulation of the crowd. Just to overload our eyes as much as our ears, a constant barrage of video images flicker on a big screen behind the band - at the end of the set, credits roll, just like a movie. Neat touch, that.

Way back in the allegedly golden eighties, Eva O fronted a Los Angeles punk band called the Super Heroines, along with Jill Emery, who later went on to join Hole. Eva O, as we know, went on to join the ever-extending family of Christian Death, before ultimately re-inventing herself as the doyenne of left-field metal. But now she's back with a new Super Heroines line-up, and a set drawn from the band's early days.

A phalanx of deathrockers has dutifully assembled to pay their respects - it's amusing to see mohawks suddenly sprouting above the heads of the crowd, as the deathrock contingent moves in. But if anyone was expecting straight-ahead rock 'n' roll, played with a punky swagger and a good-time grin, I'm afraid Mz O is not about to deliver. Super Heroines songs exhibit the intriguing weirdness Eva O brings to all her music - the riffs that stop and start in odd places, the lyrics which seem to ignore rhyme and meter, and yet somehow hang in there with the implacable wall of guitar. It ain't the UK Subs, that's for sure.

This music insists that the audience does some work. Perhaps that's why the applause is somewhat muted. Confused deathrockers exchange puzzled glances. This is not instant-connection rockin', that's for sure, and I suspect some of the latter-day deathrock fans, having grown up on the easy stuff, are finding Eva O's musical curve balls a little hard to take. It's as if they feel they should like it - I mean, hey, this is Eva O, right? if only it wasn't so....well, difficult. But if you put all preconceptions aside, and just go with the flow - unexpected eddies and counter-currents and all - this stuff works rather well.

A little earlier, we encountered a weird vicar. Now, we're about to meet a crazy schoolmaster, in the person of ASP. Always one of the more eccentric performers in goth 'n' roll, tonight ASP (that's how you spell it: three letters, upper case. Don't ask me why) has a big stage upon which to rush about, ASP gesticulate, and generally act like an amiable nutter. What's more, he can do so to the rollicking, bombasitic sound of his band, a full-on rock combo if ever I was sonically assaulted by one. What larks! No wonder he's wearing a wide smile. The band revs it up, and Herr ASP flaps about the stage in his long black coat, looking like a cross between Count Dracula and Mr Chips, as the music roars and storms around him. It's a tour de force of rock theatrics, but I fear we can't stay to see it all. We're about to leave the Agra for another engagement in a different venue. To the trams!

It's quite common to venue-hop at the WGT - indeed, if you have a list of particular bands you wish to see, it's almost inevitable that at some time over the festival's four days you'll find yourself rattling through the streets of Leipzig on a tram, intent on catching other stars, elsewhere. By way of a neat little perk, all public transport in Leipzig comes free with your WGT ticket, and the number 11 tram, which links the principal areas of the city where Treffen-stuff takes place, runs all night. Hurtling through the dark streets of an east German city on a tram full of goths - frankly, it's an experience everyone should have. It'll certainly throw your daily commute to work into sharp relief.

Two trams later, we arrive at the Anker, which turns out to be a pub with a theatre out the back. In that theatre, a selection of bands broadly grouped under the apocalyptic folk banner are playing. This is one instance where the WGT's famous random variety of bands doesn't happen: what with apocalyptic folk being, erm, shall we say an aquired taste, there's usually a particular venue and a particular day Lux Interna at the festival devoted exclusively to the stuff. In the auditorum, hot and buzzing, there's a packed house of folkies, all wearing suitably apocalyptic expressions. The show is in full swing.

On stage as we arrive, an acoustic band is twangling away. This, it appears, is Lux Interna, a rare instance of an apocalyptic folk band naming itself after the lead singer of The Cramps. They're suitably intense and melodramatic - the two essential qualities for bands in this area, of course - and have a nice line in portentous lyrics, which is also de rigeur for those of the apocalyptic persuasion. Lux Interna are a band that will never put the prosaic expression 'three times' into a lyric when the far more resounding word 'thricefold' will do. This kind of studied melodrama is, of course, part and parcel of the aesthetic, but it's a rare band that can pull it off without falling headling into the hole marked 'pretentious twaddle'. In fairness to Lux Interna, they don't quite take the tumble, but there are definitely a few moments when they're teetering on the edge.

Rome come from - yes, you guessed it - Luxembourg. They are minimalist of line-up and stern of face. A stand-up drummer beats an implacable tattoo. The bassist looms menacingly. Fortunately, the band's frontman, an affable chap with an acoustic guitar, lends a spark of humanity as the songs, studied examinations of the darkness of the human psyche (well, that's how they seem: there's certainly something about Rome's music that doesn't exactly say 'party!') roll out in an implacable flow.

Notwithstanding the fact that the band hit all the usual genre-buttons, and deliver their tunes with the almost self-parodic weighty seriousness that characterises just about everything in the apocalyptic folk area, Rome do in fact manage to create an atmosphere and make their point. The heart of darkness is duly plumbed; the audience stands chastened rather than merely entertained - an odd, but effective, feeling. The finale of the set, in which the three members of the band turn and face back-projected images of Tommies marching off to war, is strikingly effective - especially as the film just keeps on running, the troops keep on marching, while the hand hold their poses, half in respect, half in regret. The genuine melancholy which Rome manage to express ultimately makes the performannce work.

How to describe Ataraxia in two words: Theatrical. Incomprehensible. The band exude an air of studious intospection as they array themselves behind an assortment of acoustic and electronic instruments, but all eyes are drawn to the singer. Attired in rags and robes, she looks like she's experiencing visions. The music is a keening swoon, a winter wind gusting over frost-hard fields, unearthly and spectral. Occasionally, a flurry of rhythm breaks out, like a sudden snow-squall over our Ataraxia winter landscape, and the band, thumping and hammering at percussion kit, hint incongruously at a latent ability to rock out.

If all my blather about 'frost-hard fields' and suchlike imagery seems foolishly pretentious - well, yes, guilty as charged. But Ataraxia have the uncanny effect of making such high falutin' imagery seem entirely natural. This ain't yer basic rock 'n' roll, that's for sure. But if there's a drawback to Ataraxia's drifting atmospheres it's this: at times, the sound gets too smooth. There are moments when the music drifts down to mere background sound, and the buzz of conversation in the crowd becomes audible over the band. It's a fine balance, I suppose: keeping the delicacy and detail of the music while at the same time ensuring that it has sufficient presence to work on stage. Ataraxia don't pitch it quite right at times, but when they pick up the pace and add some old-fashioned oomph to their art, it all clicks into place.

Oh, look, itr's the early hours of the morning again. Three days down now. One to go...

Essential links:

Wave Gotik Treffen: Website | MySpace | LiveJournal

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

Wave Gotik Treffen 2007 - Day 4 continues here.