Wave Gotik Treffen 2009

Day 2

Bands in order of appearance:
Section 25
Fangs On Fur
Theatre Of Hate
Scary Bitches
Specimen
Current 93
Felsenkeller & Agra, Leipzig
Saturday May 30 2009

Day two of the WGT, and it's time to jump on a tram to a new venue for the festival this year: the Felsenkeller, which if my fragmented knowledge of the German language has not failed me, translates as 'Cellar Of Rocks'. If that's so, someone's having a surreal laugh, because the venue is not a cellar - it's a spacious and ornate dance hall, entirely above ground. And it doesn't seem to have anything to do with rocks, either, unless you count the fact that today it's full of rock bands.

To be more specific, today the Felsenkeller is full of deathrock bands - or, at least, bands that have gained the approval of the deathrock crowd in one way or another, even if they did not originate in the deathrock scene. Deathrock, for those who've just joined us, is nothing to do with death metal (a fact for which I am profoundly grateful). It's an American term, now widely adopted in Old Europe, which refers to the waywardly creative post-punk bands of the early 80s - bands which took the energy of punk into all sorts of new directions, often with either an arty-noir or downright schlocky horror movie aesthetic slapped on top.

These days 'deathrock' is often used as a catch-all term to describe any post-punk band, whether they're from the original era or the present day, and regardless of any horrorshow aesthetic that they may or may not have. Thus it is that a British post-punk act like Section 25 - alumni of the legendary Factory record label, first album co-produced by Ian Curtis of Joy Division, sometime pioneers of proto-techno electronic dance music - can be accepted by the assembled deathrockers in the Felsenkeller today as one of their own.

Section 25 are not merely playing on the nostalgia ticket. They regrouped a few years back as a fully-functioning band, and they have a healthy amount of new material under their belts. But, I suspect, were it not for their roots in the legendary Old Days, they'd be hard pressed to gain much attention from the deathrock massive.

Because Section 25 come across like a rather dour alternative rock band - no more, and no less. There's no sign of their electropunk disco sound, just a guitar-led trundle through some terse, sparse, decent but ultimately rather underwelmng alternorock numbers. Larry Cassidy's vocals are a dryly laconic northern-English half-chant - until his daughter, Beth Cassidy, steps up to the mic, whereupon the vocals vanish from the mix altogether. It's distinctly less than great, but the band are hailed as heroes by the audience, and depart the stage to a resounding obvation - which, frankly, I think was more than they earned.

If Section 25 are here by default, if not entirely under false pretences, there can be no doubt about Fangs On Fur's deathrock credentials. For a start, they come from California, deathrock's ground zero, which immediately gives the band at least twenty credibility points. Perhaps more to the point, they possess all the screech and clatter and thrift shop Christmas tree glamour that naturally goes with their musical territory.

They're a crazy car crash of Rubella Ballet, Siouxsie, Snatch and The Slits, and in frontwoman F-Girl the band has not so much a mere vocalist as an an Aztec warrior princess, leading her army into battle clad only in body paint and metal festoons. (Did the Aztecs have warrior princesses? Well, if they didn't, they should have done. They've got one now.) Every song is a scattershot blast of sonic colour, and the cumulative effect is a bit like being run down by a glam-punk hot-rod full of manically grinning hoodlums in surrealist face paint.

I'd like to see Fangs On Fur mix it with some of the bands in current UK post-punk circles - I think they'd be a worthy foil to the likes of KASMs and Cold In Berlin. I suspect such a collision will never happen, though, since all the bands tend to stick within their own generic areas. Certainly, Fangs On Fur seem to play exclusively within deathrock circles. That's a pity, because this is a band easily good enough to win success outside the confines of a mere scene.

Back in 1982 I remember seeing Theatre Of Hate play the Lyceum in London to a sold-out crowd of two thousand rampaging punks. The support bands at that gig were UK Decay, Virgin Prunes, and The Meteors - a line-up that today would probably count as a deathrocker's paradise, although in those days it was just another gig. (The rampaging punks hated the Virgin Prunes, by the way, who were all but bottled off). I mention this by way of an exercise in compare and contrast, for Theatre Of Hate are the very next band on stage at the Felsenkeller.

Twenty-odd years and sundry splits and reformations on from the band's heyday, the Theatre Of Hate we see before us today essentially comprises main man Kirk Brandon - uncannily looking much the same as he did at the Lyceum in '82 - and a bunch of new musicians which includes, if I'm not mistaken, Sex Gang Children guitarist Kevin Matthews.

We are, it must be said, in the alternative rock zone again, because this version of Theatre Of Hate thunders out guitar-heavy renditions of the old songs without the slightest nod in the direction of the original sparse and spacious arrangements. 'Do You Believe In The Westworld', the original band's big hit, becomes an excercise in bludgeon riffola in the hands of this band.

It's a disapppointment, because while I was never the world's greatest Theatre Of Hate fan, their distinctive, uncluttered sound had a unique place in the post-punk landscape. To hear that uncluttered sound buried under an avalanche of any-old-rock-band guitar is a bit of a let down.

Theatre Of Hate may not be the band they once were, but all the same, to bill them under the Scary Bitches surely amounts to a slap in the face for poor old Kirk Brandon. A hero of the first wave, forced to play second fiddle to a gormless novelty act in unconvincing fancy dress - showbiz can be so cruel at times, don't you think?

But, yes, here come the Scary Bitches, their galumphing mid-tempo pub rock novelty singalongs well to the fore, their joke shop comedy costumes as tiresome as ever. Quite why this band has been taken so enthusiastically to the hearts of the German deathrock scene is an enduring mystery - or at the very least, a triumph of marketing over common sense. The fact that this band represents the current music scene of the UK to an international audience is genuinely frustrating - do the Germans really think the UK is good for nothing but rehashed 80s acts and pub-rock comedy routines dressed up as deathrock?

The Scary Bitches plod through their set with much contrived bonhomie, principal Bitches Alma Geddon and DEADri Ransiid now joined by a sidekick with an equally parochial pun for a name. (I wonder, do the Germans even realise that their names are supposed to be funny?) I'm here to tell you that not only does Bet The Lincher have a name that rings like a cracked bell, she's also the most unconvincing drummer I've ever seen, bip-bopping away on an electro percussion unit with all the conviction of granny tapping on a biscuit tin with her knitting needles.

Perhaps aware that it might be a good idea to throw their deathrock fanbase a bone, the band introduce a new song entitled 'Deathrock Girl', a piece of musical opportunism about which the best I can say is that at least it's no worse than the rest of the band's material. Oh, what the hell. I'm going to the bar to drink beer until the Scary Bitches have finished. Sometimes, that's all you can do.

Now, what was I saying about rehashed 80s acts? Here comes another British band-o-yesteryear, now reformed and making the rounds: Specimen. If we're talking deathrock credentials, Specimen have 'em by the truckload, for it was the band's own London club, the Batcave, that played a big part in establishing the aesthetic and the attitude of the early 80s scene. In fact, the word 'Batcave' is now frequently used as a synonym for 'deathrock' - it instantly conjures up that dressed-up, messed-up era when punk collided with a certain weird glamour and everything got rather interesting.

Specimen royally buck the trend of reformed bands getting stuck in the not-as-good-as-they-used-to-be zone. I'm happy to report that the Specimens are as dressed up and messed up as ever. They're energetic and up for it, and their sound is uncannily fresh and - yes - authentic. Specimen have not loaded masses of any-old-rock-band guitar on their songs; their sparky, spiky, ever so slightly camp glam-pop sounds as louche and mischievous as ever.

What's more, Specimen look more sprightly than any band of a certain age has any right to look. Vocalist Ollie Wisdom carries off black PVC more convincingly than half the similarly attired people in the audience, most of whom are surely half his age. Jonny Slut no longer sports a giant mohawk, but as plenty of the Felsenkeller crowd have adopted his former hairstyle as their own, suitable levels of mohawk-ness are maintained. Incidentally, this must be a strange situation for Jonny Slut. Back at the Batcave, he was the only one with a towering mohawk. Now, he's practically the only person without one. Plus ça change, eh, Jonny?

It's tram time again. Time to make the trip out to the Agra, where Current 93 are scheduled to play what the WGT calls the 'Mittnacht spezial', which in practice boils down to the final set of the night, taking place at some point after midnight. Sometimes, at a very distant point after midnight, and a long time after the other bands at the Agra have packed up.

So, we arrive at the Agra in the early hours courtesy of the Gruftiebahn, otherwise known as the all-night No. 11 tram, to find the venue almost empty. There's no evidence that any bands are about to play - it's enough to make the unwary punter wonder whether something's gone a bit wrong. But eventually, roadies appear, and even more eventually Current 93 themselves appear. The show is on.

This particular incarnation of Current 93 is officially called 'Anok Pe Current 93', which I'm sure has some sort of deep, mystical meaning if you happen to be a member of Current 93. For the rest of us, it looks suspiciously like baby talk, but to mention such a view amid the packed crowd of acolytes that gather to witness the Current 93 experience would be to risk fisticuffs.

David Tibet, Current 93's fulcrum around which innumerable line-ups have revolved over the years, is mysticism personified - indeed, the entire history of Current 93 probably boils down to David Tibet's continual efforts to strike up a conversation with God. Tonight, Tibet cuts a disarmingly prosaic figure in his beige suit and jaunty hat. He looks like Monsieur Hulot on an evening stroll - but still, you've got to admire his sheer courage in wearing a beige suit to a goth festival. Now that takes guts.

And yet, for all his conventional appearance, as the band's intricate, powerful, music swells to a succession of climaxes David Tibet transcends his ordinariness. Before our very eyes he becomes transformed into a bizarrely compelling shaman. Gesticulating to the heavens, striking attitudes as if alternately beseeching God in his majesty and dodging thunderbolts hurled from on high, he's the crazy eye of Current 93's seething, simmering storm. The more he works himself into a frenzy, the more strangely convincing he becomes. When he throws back his head and lets forth anguished cries about the 'Black ships in the sky!' he's so persuasive I find myself looking around nervously for the Vogon constructor fleet.

At some point in the early hours, it all wraps up. The Agra closes for the few remaining hours of the night: revelry continues elsewhere. More bands tomorrow, then? Oh, I think so.

Essential links:

Section 25: Website | MySpace
Fangs On Fur: Website | MySpace
Theatre Of Hate: Website | MySpace
Scary Bitches: Website | MySpace
Specimen: Website | MySpace
Current 93: Website | MySpace

Wave Gotik Treffen: : Website | MySpace

Continue to the Wave Gotik Treffen Day 3 here.

Back to the Wave Gotik Treffen Day 1 here.

For more photos from the Wave Gotik Treffen, find the bands by name here.