Klutz 'n' Christian fuckin' Deadly
So... impatient as ever, I've moved on from etudes and started to try and teach myself to play Beethoven's Für Elise. (a well known piece, cause it's easier when you know how something's supposed to sound). You do not want to hear this. Trust me.
Another thing you do not want to hear is Christian Death, the band I went to see a few nights ago. I have one or two of their albums, which are rather good (but oh, so 20th century), but I'd forgotten that Rozz Williams is no longer with us (suicide), and let's face it Goth really is a bit... over the hill rather than over the top.
The band continues to play, with none of the original members, most notably a guy who calls himself 'Valor', wears a little viking helmet, Hiawatha pig tails and a huge knife tied to his leather clad legs. The knife, I think, is there to make up for the lack of girth in the crotch part of his rawk pants. We decided the man was too tall to be a real star anyway.
I don't know what it is with Americans and goth. They seem to think banging out a heavy metal drone and putting on a silly death rock growl of a voice equates mystery. Poop rather than pop.
Highlights of the evening were Valor's proud annoucement that the club had a decibel limit, but 'otherwise the sound of our bass guitar would have made you fucking deaf', and his introduction of a song as 'one to give you an erection' and then singing 'I want to be your washing machine'. I kid you not. Other 'lyrics' included the priceless 'You lied to me you lied to me you lied to me you fucking lied to me' and the classic 'You bitch, you bitch, you bitch, you fucking bitch.'
Valor kept his little helmet on after the gig, and was later seen mouthing the words to Michael Jackson's 'Bad', on the dance floor. He otherwise seemed deadly serious about his act.
I'm not sure if the lady wearing very little playing the bass guitar (darling, do cover up, you'll catch a death of cold) was the famous 'Gitane Demone', but I did find out she reeked of 10 year old stale sweat when I stood next to her at the bar afterwards.
All in all, my mate and I nearly pissed ourselves laughing during the gig.
Christian Death anno 2001: talentless, artless, humourless, sexless, sad, dead. (Though their guitarist was dishy in a I-wannalookhard-like-Gavin-Friday-20-years-ago way.)
Categories
Music