Nemesis To Go - Live: WGT 2008

Wave Gotik Treffen 2008

Day 4

Bands in order of appearance:
Deviant UK
Gothika
Militant Cheerleaders On The Move
Miss Construction
Postscriptum
Jacquy Bitch
Christian Death
Amodali
Psychic TV
Kohlrabizirkus, Parkbühne, and Volkspalast, Leipzig
Monday May 12 2008

Back to the Kohlrabizirkus for the kick-off of day four at the WGT, and here's Deviant UK working the teatime crowd with a thumping set of energetic electro-dance, while frontman Jay Smith hurls himself around the stage as if the cops are after him. Deviant UK might be holding down the opening slot, and it's still only four o'clock in the afternoon, but the sheer scale of the WGT means that even an opening band can be fairly sure of playing to a worthwhile audience.

The Kohlrabizirkus is by no means full at this early hour, but there are still more people here than Deviant UK would play to if they headlined, say, the Underworld in London. That in itself means any WGT slot is a good slot Gothika for an up and coming band, and it makes it all the more baffling why some UK artists have never really tried to get in there. Like Cauda Pavonis the other day, Deviant UK show that it can be done, and it seems the crowd likes 'em. Foot in the door? I think so.

It's rare to see a Japanese band at the WGT - it's an international event, but it's not usually that international. But here come Gothika, fresh from Tokyo with their 'Sexed up electronica'. Don't laugh, that's the band's own description of their music. I can't personally vouch for the 'sexed up' side of things, but electronica? Yes, they definitely do that.

One PVC-clad figure stands behind a stack of electronics, while another PVC-clad figure throws extravagant shapes up front. It sounds like EBM with ants in its pants to me - all staccato electro-punctuation and a bangin' beat. Aside from some vocal styles and effects which are, perhaps, a bit more - how shall I put this? - weird than a European or US band would probably employ, there's not a lot that identifies the band as Japanese. I was hoping for an individual take on a musical form that is very familiar to us, but Gothika don't quite go there. In the end, I spend the set pondering this conundrum: if a band called Gothika does electronica, is there a band caled Electronika out there somewhere that does goth?

Militant Cheerleaders On The Move And now a neat discovery. The great thing about the WGT is that it provides many opportunities to catch bands that you've never seen before, and, under normal circumstances, would probably never see. What's more, because the festival is spread over so many venues, there are many more slots available for new bands than you'd get at the more conventional one-big-stage type of event.

So, for those of us who enjoy overturning musical rocks to see what strange creatures we can find beneath, the WGT is a happy hunting ground - and I think I've found a good 'un right here. I know nothing about Militant Cheerleaders On The Move, but with a name like that I figure they've got to be good. And - you know what? They are. The line-up is minimal: two men, keyboards and bass guitar. The sound is stripped-down and similarly uncluttered - and is a brilliantly counter-intuitive mash-up of DAF and Joy Division, delivered in a deadpan, purposeful, manner that creates an instant contrast with the frenzied stage performances we've just seen.

The Cheerleaders are brave enough to keep it low key, and it works. The bassist takes care of the vocals, which makes his repeated demolishing of the mic stand with his bass guitar a bit of a faux pas (the mic is eventually removed altogether by an exasperated roadie), but the band's inherent cool survives intact. Nice one. File under: must investigate further.

I think I will be filing Miss Construction under 'Avoid like the plague'. This seems to be yet another side-project band, assembled by Chris Pohl of Blutengel and Terminal Choice. We're in the shouty electro zone again, a stylistic area that really is getting rather crowded these days. Two masked men stand behind keyboards and elecro-drums; the bangin' beats rinse out. And, up front, a figure in military garb strides to and fro, and shouts in what I assume is meant to be an edgy and confrontational manner.

Trouble is, there's a fine line between edgy and confrontational, and pointlessly, foolishly, belligerent, and I fear that Miss Construction are very much on the wrong side of it. When Mister Confrontational starts shouting 'Fuck you, bitch!' like a drunken husband who's come home from the pub to find his wife has locked him out of the house, I decide that it's time to confront an edgy tram ride outta here.

To the Parkbühne now, the open air stage in leafy surroundings, where the WGT takes on what you might call more of a traditional festival vibe. The band on stage as we shove our way through the turnstiles is Postscriptum (with a name like that, surely they should be the last band of the day, after the headliners) who seem to play a rousingly anthemic brand of almost-indie - somewhere between James and A-Ha. Curiously, I discover that Postscriptum are in fact Norwegian, so maybe there's a real A-ha influence in there somewhere. Their set is finishing just as we get to the front, but they'll be another band for the Must Investigate Further file.

Jacquy Bitch is not, as you might guess from the name, a female artist. In fact, Mister Bitch is very much of the male persuasion, and apparently has some old-skool deathrock kudos to his name. At any rate, a smattering of deathrockers have gathered to witness his set, which is actually pretty good in a Virgin Prunes on steroids kind of way. Muscular punkzoid guitar battles with Mr Bitch's agonized wail of a vocal, and it's all very effective.

It must be said, however, that the show is let down a little by Jacquy Bitch's sartorial decision: he's wearing an outfit which looks like a cheap and tacky My Little Vampire costume, the kind of thing you could get from any joke shop, and although I dutifully consider the possibility that he's wearing this stuff as a deliberate visual gag, I eventually conclude that Mr Bitch is serious. Not a bad band, but definitely a case of Sack The Stylist.

And now, Christian Death. The other Christan Death. Or, as some would have it, the one and only, original and genuine Christian Death. Or as still others would insist, the false Christian Death. This is Valor's band, the linear descendant of the 80s incarnation which once featured Rozz Williams.

Although Valor might have an unbroken track record of Christian Death-ism behind him, he's still regarded by many fans of the original version of the band as a thief and a usurper, who staged a takeover bid for a band that rightfully belonged to Rozz.

Today, there's a voiciferous minority of Rozz fans in the crowd who seem to have come along purely to heckle Valor. In deathrock circles, it's almost an article of faith and a condition of admission that you must support Rozz and denigrate Valor. An opposing view is regarded as heresy, and to profess agnosticism - to remark that in the grand scheme of things you just don't care - is downright sinful.

Well, colour me agnostic, but I'm not bothered by wrangles, claims and counter-claims that date back more than 20 years. Let's see what Valor and the gang do in the here and now. The answer to that one, it seems, is a kind of chunky alternative rock that is surprisingly non-metallic, given that in recent years Valor has positioned Christian Death very firmly in the metal zone. Now, it appears, he's out to recapture some of that old post-punk juice - an interesting move in itself, and given that all things post-punk are on the rise right now, it at least shows that Valor knows which way the wind is blowing.

But Christian Death's apparent bid to join the post punk party cuts no ice with the deathrockers, and when Valor, having apparently spotted Eva O in the crowd, makes some uncalled-for remarks, he is promptly attacked by an outraged stage invader. And in that, I think we have the problem with Christian Death - both Christian Deaths, all the Christian Deaths. Everybody - both bands and fans - acts as if the feud between the factions is more important than the music anyone's making these days.

We shall leave Valor to his battles, and head across town to the Volkspalast now. The end of the WGT is fast approaching, and we've only got two more bands to go. But I think we're likely to go out on a high, and if we don't it won't be for any lack of effort in that direction on the part of the band on stage now. Under the Volkspalast dome, the mantras of Amodali uncoil and spiral. Amodali is an (almost) solo project that grew out of Mother Destruction, an entwining of female vocals and naggingly insistent rhythms that worm their way under your skin, up and down your spine, into your psyche, and sort your chakras right out. It's not rock 'n' roll, that's for sure, but it's a strangely, compellingly, hypnotic experience.

Wilful experimentalists, psychedelic chancers, shameless noisemakers, nutters. Psychic TV can wear all these descriptions with equal grace, but here's something that may come as a surprise: Psychic TV - at least in their present incarnation - are also a no-shit, take-no-prisoners rock band. Fronted, as ever, by the walking experiment in pan-gendered humanism that is Genesis Breyer P-Orridge (nice hairstyle, there, by the way - folks, the bob is back), the TV party starts as it means to go on, with a headlong dash into a freak-rock vortex that threatens to tip the Volkspalast off its foundations.

Roaring and rumbling like a cross between Public Image Limited, Jimi Hendrix, and the Beach Boys, stacking up layers of electronics on an unrepentantly pummelling rhythmic base, and slapping a load of rampant guitar on top of all that, the Psychic TV monster has surely never rocked out like it's doing tonight. This does rather wrong-foot those in the crowd who have come along on the strength of Genesis P-Orridge's previous excursions into experimentalism and left-field industrial noise: tonight, we're a mighty long way from all that.

But Psychic TV make a splendid bunch of rockers. In particular, Alice Genese, on bass, has a fine repertoire of shapes, and she throws them with shameless glee. But, of course, it's Genesis who is the focus of the show. Now he's the offhand shaman, always ready with a quizzically cocked eyebrow as he surveys the crowd, now the crazed psych-rocker, shrieking the vocals - 'Have MERCY on me!' - as if he's just been electrocuted. Psychic TV have plenty of songs in their pockets that suit the big bad rock treatment rather well.

'Riot In The Eye Ov Sky' is curiously moving; a bump 'n' grind through the Velvet Underground's 'Foggy Notion'is positively down and dirty. Naturally, we get one of Gen's noise-bass interludes, in which he serenades us with a beer bottle on four long-suffering strings, and sundry other noise-bursts when the entire band, all members grinning hugely throughout, decide to get in on the act. As a grand finale to the WGT, this spectacle couldn't be bettered.

Psychic TV After it's all over, and the crowd is jostling for taxis outside, the night air seems unnaturally cold, the air oddly still. It's as if Leipzig is secretly relieved that the WGT has finally drawn to a close. I hope the city enjoys the peace and quiet while it can. Because - you know what? - there's always the next one.

Essential links:

Wave Gotik Treffen: Website | MySpace

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

To return to the first day of the Wave Gotik Treffen, go here.

Page credits: Revierw, photos and construction by Michael Johnson.
Nemesis logo by Antony Johnston, Red N version by Mark Rimmell.