#shit dave gahan would say

[burningconnoisseurdetective]

We know you better than this, Mr. Santana! *cues the lyrics to The Things You Said by Depeche Mode* We know you better than that. We know you better than that.

[passivenovember]

Reach Out and Touch Faith.

Harringrove April, Day Sixteen : Nostalgia.

--

Steve knows he’s got a stick up his ass about the whole thing. 

Feels it wiggle around, amused, when he comes home early from work to find Dawn and Billy dancing around in their PJs to the opening chords of Personal Jesus. 

They don’t see him.

Too preoccupied with the music, Dave Gahan’s voice pushing through windows and bursting through walls until Billy’s hips are moving in a way Steve hasn’t seen them do in years. 

And Steve isn’t a betting man, but. 

He knows that if Billy turned and zeroed in, hips moving like that with Dawn headbanging to dark wave like some sort of hybrid, the perfect combination of the two of them, Steve would be unable to rain on their parade.

His first reaction is to unplug the stereo.

And it’s a crime. To cut the Gretsch short like that, right in the middle of such an iconic riff.

Billy turns, out of breath from doing the limbo under Dawn’s black feather boa. “Oh, here we go.” He says fondly.

Steve ignores him, strictly business. “What the hell are you doing to my living room?”

Dawn’s still going. Arms win milling as she hop-scotches her way across the room toward Steve, forehead slick with sweat. 

“I like that song!” She hollers. Right in his ear when she climbs into Steve’s arms like a twelve year old monkey. He sets her down immediately, trying to play it cool.

Dawn and Billy start jumping up and down together, obviously high on adrenaline and Steve feels like shit. For having to be the bad guy all the time. 

He sits gingerly on the couch. Tries to tack on his best let’s have a serious discussion face, even as Dawn and Billy continue humming the chorus together. 

Billy breaks away, pumping his arm. “How sick is that synth track, kiddo?”

“So sick.” Dawn says. She collapses onto the floor, exhausted. “I think I like that better than the one on Dangerous.”

Steve gapes. “That’s hardly appropriate.”

Billy scowls, indignant. “You’re the one who let Aunt Robin sneak in the first album we ever fu--”

"Bill.”

He shuts up, sighing. “Babe. You’re gonna be cool about this, right?”

“I’m cool!” Steve insists, leaning back on the couch. “I’m the coolest, ask anyone.”

Billy grins, cheeks flushing pink. “Really? ‘Cause you’re acting pretty uncool.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yup,” Billy teases. “Coming in and unplugging the stereo like that. Right in the middle of the riff, too.” Billy whistles low, shaking his head. “Gotta be one of the seven sins.”

“What, cutting a Depeche Mode song in half?” Steve deadpans. “I just would’ve preferred she start out with. Like. Speak and Spell. or something.” 

Dawn beams. “What’s that? Can we listen to that one next?”

Billy ignores her, honed in. “Dawn’s twelve now, that’s like. Practically a teenager.”

“Yeah, Dad.” She says smugly. “I’m practically a teenager.”

“Exactly.” Billy triumphs, pasting himself to Steve’s side. “And as a practically-almost-teenager, it’s about time she hears some good music.” 

“Hey, you said good music is whatever makes me feel something,” Dawn accuses, sitting bolt upright. “Good music makes your skin all tingly and your tummy do backflips and your heart--”

“I said real music makes you feel something. I never specified what makes it good.” Billy says smugly. “Everything you’ve heard before today is real music but it’s not good music.”

Steve lets Billy fuse their bodies together, wincing as his arm touches miles of sticky skin. 

Dawn shrugs her shoulders. 

Unbothered.

Unapologetic. 

“What you said before, kiddo, about your heart and your tummy. Does this record make you feel like that?” Steve wonders, and Dawn’s nodding her head before he’s even finished. 

He sighs. “Go get my cassette case, then. We’ve got some work to do.”

--

With her Walkman turned up as high as it will go, muttering along to the words as if in prayer, Dawn grows up before their eyes. 

Two new copies of Violator are purchased before the year is out. Once because it’s played so much the wheels fall off, and again because Joey steals the new one.

Billy gets a phone call from Max the day after it goes missing. “The World Wide Web is an evil, disgusting place.”

Billy snorts. “Pretty sure kids are calling it the Net these days, grandma. Keep up.”

“I don’t want to keep up.” She snaps. “Four years. A whole kindergarten age child ago I force Joey to sit down and listen to my cassettes--”

“Your cassettes?” Billy mumbles, alarmed. “No wonder the kid’s purging himself on Steve’s shit.”

“Oh fuck off. That’s where he heard them?”

Billy plays dumb. 

Max catches on instantly. “He’s been locked in his room, listening to Policy of Truth all day. I just don’t understand what’s so appealing about a bunch of sad boys--”

“Be nice.”

“Do you really think the kids are old enough to listen to that shit, man?” Max sounds like she’s coming apart at the edges. Scattered to the wind. “I mean. He left his room twice. Once to make a sandwich and again to borrow one of my skirts.”

Billy grins. “Ah. So he got his hands on some pictures of Martin Gore, that was fast--”

“He tore the thing to shreds, Billy.”

And Billy doesn’t get what the problem is, many of Joyce’s tattered Sunday skirts hanging in his closet even now. 

He shrugs. “’S more punk that way.”

“God. Name the kid after his freaky uncle and the kid will deliver.” Max retorts miserably. She takes a deep breath. “What the fuck am I gonna do?”

“Dunno. Remove the stick from your ass?”

“Ha-ha.” Max spits, but. It sounds like she’s smiling. “Speaking of sticks up asses. Did Steve have a cow?”

Billy shrugs again, wrapping the phone chord around his wrist. “Whole barn, more like. But I think I convinced him.”

“Of what? That the perversion of our youth is okay?”

“No, that the kids are getting older.” Billy says. He doesn’t get it, why he’s the only one in touch with reality. “Joey’s Fifteen, Dawn’ll be thirteen in a couple months. They’re not little kids anymore, Max, they’re teenagers.”

She sighs. “So we’re supposed to let them listen to whatever they want.”

“Within reason. Susan and Neil would’ve bought the barn at full price if we hadn’t snuck around.”

Max makes a noise. “I never listened to--”

“N.W.A?”

“Fuck you, they have an incredible social commentary on the issues faced by disenfranchised people in the--”

“Check mate.”

Max falls silent. And then, glumly, “I hate you for always being right.”

Billy leans against the wall, chuckling. “I’m your big brother. Comes with the territory.”

--

When they get Dawn’s birthday list, only one thing is circled in red. 

Joey and I want to see Depeche Mode live.

Steve wonders if he can make that happen.

[technicolorfamiliar]

Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds

The Anthem, DC // 10.25.18

Nick Cave isn’t afraid of anything.

And he’s surprisingly funny. His matter-of-fact humor and pregnant pauses between observation and commentary was delightful.

Someone in the crowd handed him something, and he said, after a moment of silent confusion, “Is this a hot dog? What are you, some kind of terrible person? I’m a vegetarian.” Then, after a beat, “Not like a Morrissey vegetarian. Just a vegetarian.” Then he handed the hot dog off stage to the staff, to “share among the road crew.” 

Some time later in the set, he spots a couple in the crowd, and asks the man, “Is that your girlfriend? Congratulations.” And after looking closer, “Oh, she has a tattoo of me on her arm... That must make things weird.” 

But he spent most of the show out on the narrow walkway that ran parallel to the stage, with no barrier, no big security guys between him and the crowd. He spent most of the show towering over, kneeling before, or nearly launching himself into a sea of strange and wild fans. He physically interacted with the crowd so much more than I ever expected. Holding people’s hands, making sure he locked eyes with each and every person who stood close to the front of the stage, getting a guy in a crushing headlock, bringing people up on stage -- who does that? Who else could get away with that? 

Of the two other recent live shows I’ve been to, there wasn’t a chance for that kind of intense, insane interaction with the performer. David Byrne, as unique and special as his American Utopia show at Merriweather was, hardly interacted with the crowd at all. And Depeche Mode were protected by the barrier, and the distance didn’t afford much opportunity to connect with the audience, except for a few moments of acknowledgement of people in the very front center and those at the end of the runway (but that’s not really fair, since Dave Gahan’s really always playing to the entire house, not just the front three rows).

But Nick Cave was mere inches from many of us throughout the entire evening. 

I was in shock for most of it, not really believing what was happening literally right in front of me. There was a fierce intensity and madness about this show that I’ve never really experienced before. Not at a concert, certainly.  I was second row, but it felt like the performance was happening on all four sides of me.

I am so, so glad I was able to get a spot on Warren Ellis’s side of the stage. He’s something else. And positively thrilling to watch. I really love and appreciate Warren’s work and stage presence. He compliments and doesn’t overshadow Nick. He could match and even exceeded whatever Nick was doing, and somehow still managing to actually play whatever instrument he had at that moment. He’s a madman, who can turn on the crazy when it’s needed, but as soon as they’re doing “Push The Sky Away,” he’s 110% grounded and centered. An enigma, but one that I greatly admire.

The set list was basically perfect. At least for me, the other night being the first time I’ve ever seen Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds live. I’ve been a fan since I was in my early teens/the early 2000s, but kept missing tours due to work or money or lack of people to go with (now idgaf and just go to shows solo). I had purposefully been avoiding looking up set lists from other shows on this tour, I wanted to be surprised. 

They book-ended the show with tracks from Skeleton Tree, opening with “Jesus Alone” and closing with “Rings of Saturn.” AND they played “Magneto” which is actually my favorite track from Skeleton Tree. It’s a hard album to listen to, but it’s full of so many beautiful, heart-wrenching songs. 

There was a tiny Australian woman in front of me in the first row, and before the show she turned around and asked me if it was my first time seeing the band, and I said yes. She assured me that I would lose my shit when they played “From Her to Eternity” (maybe not in those exact words). And I did. I fully flipped out. But I also flipped out during “Tupelo” -- one of my current favorites, which was accompanied by video footage of destructive hurricane winds and rain, and felt so, so relevant. And at the top of “Red Right Hand,” Nick prefaced the song by saying, “This one is for you, Washington. Let this be a cautionary tale,” making the song more obviously political (appropriately so) than I had previously considered it.

Honestly, every song chosen was excellent. From “Do You Love Me” to “Higgs Boson Blues” to “The Ship Song” to “Loverman” to “The Weeping Song”. And of course the encore with “The Mercy Seat” and “City of Refuge”. 

But Nick Cave is fearless. As a song writer and as a performer. He is a master of his craft with no signs of slowing down, nothing standing in his way. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t terrified of Nick Cave. But that’s a good thing, in my experience. He scares me because he is up there on stage, mere inches from us, without fear, thrashing like the storm winds of “Tupelo”, throwing his microphone and books and binders of music to the ground, falling to his knees, screeching like an animal, then suddenly standing tall and silent, maybe cracking jokes, but in total command of everyone in that room. As though nothing had happened, as if the flood gates of wild, electric emotion hadn’t just been wide open a second before. Nick Cave scares me because he’s not afraid of the crowd, not afraid of the truth, or of judgement. That level of fearlessness is something to be admire. And something I deeply aspire to on a creative and personal level. 

[violation-for-the-masses]

that feel when Dave Gahan gives his car to charity auction for planned parenthood and then middle aged white cis men are pissing themselves because planned parenthood means GENOCIDE OMFGGGGG111!1!1!!!1 and Dave has children, how could he be PRO MURDERING INNOCENT BABIES!!1!!11!111!!! and they keep saying shit like this as if they've never heard a single song by depeche mode or never seen a single interview with them, living in a magic alternative universe in which a bunch of guys singing about environmental changes and the lack of god and BDSM with homoerotic undertones (one of them enthusiastically wearing dresses in the 80s) would be CONSERVATIVE.

[littlewalken]

Jul 18

1980-ish, The Cure release A Forest. Every member from there on out will play that song. Gooba Gobba one of us.

And if Perry Bamonte didn’t hear A Forest and didn’t try to learn it or pretend at least once he was Simon Gallup... My 2am brain was just making shit up. Because seriously, The Spurts/Bullies/What does out drum head say today were a punkish cover band and at least some of their crowd would have known about The Cure. 

That pic of Perry is another one from one of the greatest nights in music history where Dave Gahan saw Composition of Sound in a proper non church basement concert except the only pictures that have turned up are of the band soon to be Depeche Mode opened for. 

But hey, the Clockman was found so look through gam-gam’s Polaroids.

Well, on my end I discovered more art supplies that won’t work on black paper, didn’t expect them to, and consolidated the notes for a story. Now to neaten them up. 

It might be one of those alternate Thursdays where I can comprehend how to write a CYOA book. Talk about something else that needs to have its notes figured out. 

And there’s laundry to do.

But it’s noticeably cooler today. 

Thoughts about baby Teddy learning A Forest help distract me from the eventually will have to be done house repairs and all the work around it. 

Into the trees! 

And if I was a braver person I’d put nice rack on that pic of Goff Barbie because those are a nice pair of keyboards he has. 

Teddy got by with only one.

But he never quite got the hang of Plainsong, or The Blood, but we got to know he tried. After all, he played a bicycle pump on Unplugged. 

[missguidedmartyr]

thoughts to the void

Tonight was supposed to represent freedom. Freedom of movement, freedom of joy, freedom from fear. 

Last September, in a moment of fleeting recklessness, I accidentally bought myself and my family 10 tickets to see Depeche Mode on June 3rd, which ended up with a mother of a scam in booking fees to be £800. To say the least, we have been through a mudslide of selling the tickets, buying them back, expecting a refund, getting some fraud - but all the while, Depeche Mode was the light at the end. No matter what happened, I was adamant that I would see Dave Gahan live - and truly live, in every sense of the word, as he did onstage tonight. 

Last September, my concerns lay with the gig falling between exams, and the cost of the tickets. I didn’t account for perhaps the concern of our lives. 

Over the past week, countless, wonderful people have persuaded me that I had to go - not only to prove to myself that I was being irrational, but also to not deprive myself of pure ecstasy for the sake of pure killers. I told myself I was being paranoid and ridiculous and nobody else seemed to have the same concerns as me. 

Then tonight came, and I was brave; I let anxiety dissipate and I pogo-ed, danced, screeched, ‘sang’, moshed, all of the shit I’d been yearning to do for 9 months. Walking out of the actual stadium was the most nauseating, for obvious reasons, but I was almost comfortable standing amongst a crowd of 40,000 in the middle of a street beside Stratford tube station, until I heard screaming and car horns. 

But I ignored it, because everyone - including myself - had told me I was going to be fine, and that it was irrational, and that security in London was the highest it’s ever been. But it wasn’t, and I wasn’t being irrational, because we witnessed a terror attack tonight, saved only by an extended encore. 

But throughout all of this, it wasn’t my safety I was scared for. It was the shock, the sudden descent of reality, of hearing it happen - of finally being in the vicinity of these ‘rare’ attacks. It was the dawning realisation that the future as I pictured it would not be. That despite surviving anorexia, despite being strapped to heart monitors for days on end, it could all be taken away, meaning nothing anymore. The realisation that I’d have to factor this fear into my future, and the sense that I wasn’t sure in that moment if I wanted a life if it contained such a fear. 

So, I don’t know. These are thoughts into the void. I wasn’t a victim. But the views I had clung onto about the world drifted away, and that’s something that makes me sick. ‘Love beats hate’ means fuck all, ‘we are not afraid’ is a blatantly pointless lie, and all we need is to open a dialogue with them now. We need to be pro-active, and not play ‘the game’ as if they are children wanting attention. 

[depechemodespiritera]

Tell Me About It: Dave Gahan – “‘Why is your music so depressing?’ is a really lame question”

The Depeche Mode singer on crappy gigs, addiction and escaping death... twice

Words by David Zammitt  Photos by Anton Corbijn

Dave Gahan is stationed in the basement of the swanky Bulgari Hotel in Knightsbridge. As I wait outside his room in music journalist purgatory, waiting for an interview with some other mag to round up, I’m told that it shouldn’t be long but, well, unfortunately, Dave is enjoying the conversation so much that he wants to keep chatting. Maybe we’ll get on really well too, I think.

When I am finally beckoned in, Gahan welcomes me to the conference room that’s become his office for the day. He is warm, full of smiles, and even offers me a smoothie. Radioactive green, it’s a sign of the journey from Gahan’s dark days in the late ’80s and, well, most of the ’90s. It’s fair to say that the rider requests for a man who’s come through heroin addiction and bladder cancer is a little different these days. With hair slicked back, pencil moustache neatly groomed and a silver skull ring nestling on his middle knuckle, it’s hard to equate him with the 19-year-old Epping boy in the oversized suit who nervously bopped his way through ‘Just Can’t Get Enough’.

Of course, a lot of well-documented water has passed under the bridge since Gahan and Depeche Mode arrived with the synthpop agenda-setter ‘Speak & Spell’ in 1981. Fourteen studio albums is a pretty solid achievement in itself, but when you hear the context of the hurdles that had to be negotiated in order to do so, it pulls the feat into sharper focus. Through ailing health, substance abuse and a couple of run-ins with the law, Depeche Mode have somehow stayed united. Depsite the chaotic highs and creativity-sapping lows, the release of their latest LP, ‘Spirit,’ continues a run of at least one album every four years for the last 35. Impossibly, Depeche Mode have become one of British music’s most reliable forces.

As Gahan speaks in staccato – all full-stops and short and rapid-fire sentences – he flits from topic to topic and I may as well have left my nice, crisp A4 sheet of questions at home, because I barely say anything. Jumping from the band’s recent gig at Glasgow’s Barrowlands to the merits of theatre and the ethic behind Depeche Mode’s ‘depressing’ sound in the first five breakneck minutes, at 54 Gahan is full of energy. But while it can be hard to keep track, Gahan’s passion is the thread that ties our conversation together.

“The Barrowlands is a smelly, dirty old venue”

There’s not many of them left like that. We just played there for BBC 6 Music festival, but we first played there in the early ’80s – someone told me it was 1984. I remember at the time it was pretty heaving. The stage moves a bit because the floor moves a bit. So once it gets going…

It was fun to do that show last week, which was maybe an hour long – much shorter than the two-hour show that we usually do. I got a couple of texts from Bobby Gillespie that said: “perfect time.” For performing, an hour is the perfect time.

We had a beautiful few days in Glasgow. To be in England or Scotland or Ireland and it to be good weather, you actually get to see how beautiful it is, really. And I love the people up there. People in the hotel and on the street – everywhere. Good people!

“‘Why is your music so depressing?’ is a really lame question”

I recently saw the play Buried Child by Sam Shepard. I love all Sam Shepard’s stuff. They’re usually based in the American heartland and what it’s really like – not the American Dream. Buried Child is about a child who wasn’t wanted and ended up being buried in the garden and haunts the family, spiritually. So everything they do for their drunken lives is haunted by that. Some people would say that it’s a miserable story, but stories like that, to me, are real life.

It’s like, the question I’ve had to answer many, many times, is where people are like, ‘Why is your music so doomy?’ First of all, it’s a really lame question, but the answer is always the same – ‘Well, I don’t find it like that.’ I just never have. I don’t. I get that some of the subject matter is quite dark, and musically it can be quite dark, but I’ve always felt that if the lyric was really black and if we were going into some weird, dark place, there’s a melody or a sound or something there that lifts you out of that. Like in a good book, or a film – there’s a story there.

I tend to dwell there quite a lot. And it’s OK because I find that it’s the only place you can find any real light anyway. You’ve got to dig deep because all the surface bullshit – all this stuff [he lifts up his iPhone and shakes it] – is where we seem to waste our time.

“We still care about reviews”

Of course we care. The thing about reviews is that someone told me a long time ago that if you believe the good ones you’ve got to believe the bad. There’s always a bit in both and it’s all opinions.

What I liked about one review I read of the Barrowlands show was that the person was actually reviewing the sentiment in the feeling in the moment, and how they felt. And that was undeniable! If he had said anything else about that night – that he didn’t like my trousers or something – it would have been ridiculous because it was a special night. But they’re not all like that – trust me!

Sometimes someone will give me a newspaper in the morning and we’re off to the next gig, and I know it’s been a shit show the night before, or that it wasn’t quite right. The moment wasn’t really there, and someone’s seen through it. And you read it and you’re still like, ‘Fuck you!’ But they can’t all be gems. Over the years you learn that [once in a while] you have this special feeling and you look around at each other and you’re all floating on air, but most of the time you’re getting through a song and you’re thinking about something else. Well, not most of the time. But quite often towards the end of the show I’ll be thinking about whether there’s room service.

“I remember launching six or seven bottles of wine at the wall because I couldn’t drink it”

There was one time when we made the decision not to tour and that was with the album ‘Ultra’ [1997] because I definitely was not healthy enough to tour. I was trying to convince everybody that I was, and I had all good intentions but, put it this way, six months into the recording of the album, after a big session we did in New York, I went back to L.A. and then stuff happened and I ended up in jail [Gahan was arrested after overdosing on a speedball at the Sunset Marquis Hotel in 1996]. So it really was a good decision.

After that album I think we put out a greatest hits – 1998, I’m thinking. And we did some shows. For me, that was the best and the worst tour we’ve ever done because I don’t think I was in any of those performances. It was all new for me. I was no longer drinking any alcohol or using any drugs and I was like an open wound; a bag of nerves trying to fake it ‘til I made it. I had no business being on the road and I had a few moments in dressing rooms. I remember launching six or seven bottles of wine at the wall because I couldn’t drink it. That was my share and if I wasn’t going to be able to drink it then it was going to go against the wall. While the band were all in the dressing room as well. It must’ve been quite scary, thinking about it. I was not happy at this idea of being sober and that I would have to do this for the rest of my life if I wanted to keep on living. And that’s nearly 20 years ago, which is incredible in itself, although it’s not been without its bumps and bruises along the way. It’s been a real mind opener – much more than any drugs or alcohol.

“Physically, I couldn’t sing for longer than five minutes”

I remember being back at my home in L.A. after being arrested. I got a phone call – and I never picked up the phone – and it was Martin [Gore], kinda angry and kinda pissed off that we were in the middle of recording an album and I was not going to be able to leave Los Angeles for two years. If I got into trouble, I was going to jail. So they carried on working on stuff and then created sessions for when I was allowed out of this place I was in, which I’d checked myself into. I ended up staying there for six months – I was terrified of going back home because I knew what I was going to do. I made some good friends there and I went to the studio with someone who was watching over my shoulder, but it saved my life.

I couldn’t sing at that point. I mean physically, I couldn’t sing for longer than five minutes. And it was not good. There were times when I thought I was good during the first half of the making of that album, but I was probably high. I thought I was Frank Sinatra when I was up at the mic, but listening back it was like, ‘Jesus!’. So they made me work with this amazing vocal coach, Evelyn. She would only work with me – because I was a real scumbag at the time – if I would go to this church with her in downtown L.A. in a pretty rough neighbourhood in Inglewood, somewhere where she would do this thing every Sunday working with the choir. She said: ‘You come with me and sing with the whole group; you’ve gotta be part of a team!’ She was so nice and gentle with me and gave me a lot of her time. She kinda brought my voice back to me. And that album got finished.

“My wife was like: ‘What are you looking at pictures of your tumour for?’”

During the making of ‘Sounds of the Universe’ [2009] I’d not been feeling good. I had no energy a lot of the time. I would have enough energy to do the sessions in the studio and I’d get home at night and say to the wife that I was so tired. I was kind of crashing out at 9 in the evening, and I wasn’t really telling the guys. But then it all made sense when I was diagnosed.

I used to say to, Jen, my wife, ‘I don’t know if I’m going to be able to do these shows.’ So then we were in Athens and I was having excruciating pain in my gut. Well, it felt like my gut but it wasn’t. So that night the doctor came to the dressing room, five minutes before we were due on stage. I’d been throwing up a bit – I hadn’t been talking about that. Little bit of blood in my urine – I hadn’t been talking about that. I just thought all these things were wear and tear.

But I got rushed to hospital and while the doctor was doing an ultrasound he looked at me and looked at the screen again. I said: ‘I know I’m not pregnant!’ and he said ‘Well, I see something and I have to get someone else in.’ So I said: ‘What do you see?’ and he said: ‘I see a shadow.’ I’ve heard that in movies. It just so happened that there was an oncologist there and I got on the MRI and they said that they could do the surgery there and then. You have a sac in your bladder and you have another sac on the inner sac, and the cancer hadn’t got through the walls yet. It’s an amazing looking thing! My wife was like: ‘What are you looking at pictures of your tumour for?’ But it looked like a sea urchin with all these alien tentacles! It’s an amazing thing. But if they go undiagnosed and it goes into other organs you’re done, really.

“We seem to be pretending we’re not, but we’re fucking lost!”

‘Spirit’ is more of a social outlook on humanity itself, and we’re lost. We seem to be pretending we’re not, but we’re fucking lost! It’s a bit apocalyptic and bit post-apocalyptic in places, this record; ‘Cover Me’ being post-apocalyptic, ‘Fail’ being now, ‘Poison Heart’ being, you know – ‘You’re the devil and we all know it, but you’re in power!’ And then there are songs like ‘Going Backwards’ or ‘Scum’, which are just horrified at humanity, at ourselves.

Where’s the spirit? Where’s the spirit in really caring? And people say, you know, ‘It’s easy for you guys in your fancy houses,’ but like Martin has said, just because you’ve had some success it doesn’t mean you have to stop caring about what you see and feel. And you do the best you can. The way we can portray how we feel is through music, through art. And ultimately we’re here to entertain you but to maybe entertain you with a sense of reflecting. This is not a record that’s ramming something down your throat. This is not Billy Bragg.

(via Tell Me About It: Dave Gahan – “‘Why is your music so depressing?’ is a really lame question” - Loud And Quiet)

[devils-gatemedia]

October not only signals the arrival of shittier weather, but also the beginning of a hectic gig schedule. October through to December this year is jam-packed with gig clashes, and tonight was just one of those nights where the concerning gig-goer was faced with multiple choices. A few hundred yards along the road, Ricky Warwick and Damon Johnson are playing to a sold out crowd. Over the bridge, Glenn Hughes is running through a Deep Purple greatest hits set. Then there is the small matter of an audience with Tony Iommi a few miles out of the city. Shit of luck as far as Aussie beer drinkers and hell raisers Massive are concerned, but rather than letting it get them down, the foursome put on the type of show that turned into one of those “you had to be there” moments.

With the local support act not performing, it was the job of Brighton’s The Rocket Dolls to kick the evening off and beckon everyone forward towards the barrier. The trio made up of Nikki Smash on vocals and guitar, bassist Joe Constable and drummer Benji Knopfler, play a brand of contemporary rock that sticks out a bit in amongst the bulging crowd of retro blues-rock outfits treading the boards today. Current album, ‘DeaDHeaD’, is quite a dark album, both lyrically and aurally, and this is amplified a thousand fold live. With a name like Nikki Smash, he’s hardly going to tickle his guitar is he? Playing on two Fender Strats (including one gorgeous custom job with a reverse headstock) the guitar sound is powerful enough to deliver a punch to knock the wind out of those in the firing line. ‘She’s Starting Something Now’ is the perfect mix of Tremonti-sized face-melting riffs with hypnotic Alice In Chains-style vocal melodies. It’s a huge number where both Constable and Knopfler earn their crust, and on more than one occasion I find myself drawn in by the thumping work from Knopfler. So much so, I’m not paying attention when he fires a drumstick into the crowd and it’s coming straight at my head through the darkness. A quick duck out of the way, and the person next to me has a nice souvenir of the evening.

Smash is a warm and engaging frontman. He’s confident when speaking, and it’s hard to imagine him doing anything but fronting a band. Later on, when Massive are thanking The Rocket Dolls, they pay special attention to how good looking Nikki is, and how great his teeth are! Imagine a healthy Dave Gahan in full-on rock star mode, and you are on the right track. Smash can also play. His playing on ‘Rusty Bones’ (“A slow one for the ladies”) is hugely impressive, as it is throughout the set. Even though technically it is the “slow” one, it leaves its mark in many ways. The melodies are huge and the pounding work from Constable and Knopfler crushes. The final pairing of ‘Strain’ and ‘DeaDHeaD’ is a knockout one-two. With Smash using the aforementioned custom Strat, the Fender fan-boy in me is in overdrive. Drooling aside, it’s a powerful way to bring the set to a close. ‘DeaDHeaD’ is simply massive with a killer guitar sound to rattle the filings in your teeth. Do check The Rocket Dolls out. A break from the norm, and a band offering a different slant on the whole current Rock scene.

Put Massive on any stage, in any town, and they will give any band a wake up call. Going on after these nutters would worry even the most cocksure of bands out there. With no local support, it meant Massive have an extra half hour on stage. Guitarist Ben Laguda has family in the crowd… let the carnage commence!

As frontman Brad Marr said, Massive don’t have a setlist planned, it’s off the cuff and they play what they like on the evening. So, loosely, the setlist is made up of select choices from debut album ‘Full Throttle’, follow up ‘Destination Somewhere’ and due-in-2019 ‘Rebuild Destroy’. Throw in some raucous covers, lashings of banter and pisstaking, empty beer cans getting chucked at the bassist, Laguda bolting off stage mid-song to take a piss, and you have the recipe for sheer, unfiltered Rock N’ Roll.

‘Lacey’ still moves like a rabid dog chasing down a twat on a bicycle. ‘Dancefloor’ has the fattest bass licks ever with an incredible hi-hat sound to match. Throw in the “Jump!….We’ve got the motherfucking dancefloor” part and the bar staff have the mops to hand for the spillage. ‘Blood Money Blues’ continues the carnage, and ‘One For The Road’ gets a rare outing… so rare, that Marr introduces it by saying “This is ‘One For The Road’, and it sounds nothing like this… it’s completely unrehearsed”. A few new tracks are aired; new single ‘Roses’ is a total banger, ‘Long Time Coming’ runs it a close second. The crowd are making their presence felt and rugs are being cut left, right, and centre. Hips are in danger of needing putting back in, and the copious amount of alcohol consumed will result in some sore heads in the morning, but not a jot is given because, if you can’t party on a Friday night, when can you?

‘Ghost’ is just one of many crowd-pleasers, and Marr (who has now changed into a Scotland cricket top) leads the crowd in a sing-a-long. It has a hook tailor made for bellowing at the top of your lungs, and at one point Ben Laguda (after a quick toilet break) whips out his phone and tells everyone to, “say hello to Australia!”. Shots are passed over from the crowd, Marr realises that they are Jägerbombs, and breaks into a few bars of ‘Jägerbomb’ from Massive’s good mates Tequila Mockingbyrd. He necks a beer, pours the rest over his head (well, it was Fosters mate) before he, Laguna, and bassist Alex Carmichael end the song all playing their guitars behind their heads, while drummer Andrew Greentree is standing up battering seven bells out of his kit. A ten minute free-for-all you wouldn’t have got over the bridge at Glenn Hughes.

Talking of Mr Hughes. He comes in for some good natured ribbing when Marr dedicates a blistering cover of ‘Highway Star’ to him. “Fucking Glenn Hughes! We booked our tour first… and we’re younger!” Along with ‘Highway Star’, the band blitz their way through ‘TNT’, ‘Immigrant Song’, and a few bars of ‘500 Miles’, before ending on the full blown assault of ‘Highway To Hell’.

Regardless of how many punters turned up tonight, Massive made it a party occasion and a night to remember for many reasons. The music, the banter, the sight of Ben Laguda chucking his Gibson down and dashing for the lav. The same Ben Laguda going for a saunter in the crowd while still plugged in, meaning Nikki Smash from The Rocket Dolls had to act as guitar tech, and make sure he stayed tangle free. Every person in attendance will tell someone about this gig, and hopefully bring them along when Massive return in the Summer.

Genuinely, you had to be there. The best £12 I’ve ever spent… apart from this one time when one kebab wasn’t enough and a second one had to be bought. That was pretty special.

Find all current Massive tour dates here.

Review: Dave S

Images: Dave J

  Live Review: Massive/The Rocket Dolls – Glasgow October not only signals the arrival of shittier weather, but also the beginning of a hectic gig schedule.

[thelowartgloominati-blog1]

Indigo’s 10 favorite albums

(as of 9/16/17)

Hello! If you’ve stumbled upon this post in error then I’m sorry. I tag my stupid personal crap for that exact reason, I don’t want anyone subjected to my stupidity unless they choose to be. Anyway, I listen to a lot of music (and I mean a LOT of music), and I’ve been thinking for some time about what my favorite albums really are today. It’s a really tough list to make, but I thought I’d commit it to record somewhere, if for no other reason then so in 10 years (presuming this account is still active) I can look back and think “wow... I had shit, shit taste in 2017...” Also, I’m gonna cheat and put these in no particular order. I think, gun to my head, I could probobly rank these albums from 10 to 1, but it would be so close that there would just be no point, and I wouldn’t really love album #1 THAT MUCH more then Album #10, they’re all just THAT GOOD to me.

Anyway, here they are:

Ladytron - Velocifero (2008)

This was my first Ladytron album and it is still my favorite. Part of that is because I think it is the best showcase of the band at it’s height of creativity, and partially because I first got this album during a very difficult time in my life and it helped get me through all that nonsense in a very non-insubstantial way, so I’ll always have a soft spot for it. The music itself is often genera-ed as synthpop, which isn’t inaccurate, but it doesn’t really conform to the conventions of that label. It’s got a little bit of new wave, a little bit of world music, a little glam rock, a few songs are even sung in Mira’s native Bulgarian which creates a really nice contrast with the english vocals. Brian Eno is quoted in saying that Ladytron are the best British group of this century so far, and I am inclined to agree.

Marilyn Manson - The Pale Emperor (2015)

Spoiler alert: this may not be the only time we talk about Mr. Manson on this list... in fact it will definitely not be.  Anyways, I am a huge Marilyn Mason fan (if my URL wasn’t a big enough give away), but even I’ll admit that after Golden Age of Grotesque his discography did start to get a little spotty. Albums like High End of Low were a step in the right direction, but there was a clear drop-off in creativity that made itself present post about 2005... until this album. This album completely blew me away. The sort of industrial blues rock instrumental style combined with Manson’s very distinct flavor of vocals and lyrical themes, made for a fresh sound that really doesn’t sound like any of Manson’s other work, but is still distinctly his own. And lyrically it almost sounds like Manson is analyzing this figure both himself and the media have built himself into over his career, it feels like he’s taken a step back and said “shit... how did I get here?”. It’s just a one-of-a-kind album, and it makes me very optimistic for Heaven Upside Down.

Jack Off Jill - Clear Hearts, Grey Flowers (2000)

This is one of the most addictive albums I’ve ever listened to, and that’s fortunate because it also happens to be among the best. I will warn you, it is an angry album. This album is meant to be screamed along to while you are mad at the world (and for me that is very often). The experience is cathartic and, for me at least, very very satisfying. Tonality aside though, it features some of the best song-craft of any riot grrl or gothic rock album I’ve ever heard, and Jessicka Adams remains one of my all-time favorite vocalists (look up her other band “Scarling” too, different sort of music, but still very very good). This album is a blood and tear soaked, eye-shadow stained, unapologetically feminist masterstroke. I consider it the high point of JoJ’s work, and I really hope they make some more some day (I’m not holding my breath, but I can hope).

New Order - Substance (1987)

I’m cheating. I don’t care. Yes, it shouldn’t technically count since it’s just a compilation, but I love this record so damn much that I just couldn’t not include it. It’s almost detrimental because ever since I got this record I keep going for other New Order records and just thinking “Wait, why don’t I just throw on Substance?” and I inevitably do. The album is pretty much what it says on the tin; two disks, disk one is the 12  inch version of every NO single up to and including True Faith, disk 2 is the B-sides. No frills, no bullshit, no flash, just substance. But that was always part of New Order’s whole minimalist aesthetic, they didn’t need anything else, their music spoke for itself. As for why I like this album particularly (in addition to having the full version of “Ceremony” which incidentally is my favorite song), it stands as a fascinating retrospective of the progression of their career, the band of course forming from the remnants of Joy Division after Ian Curtis’ tragic death in 1980, starting from a post punk sound off those heels, and moving onto dance rock and later synth pop. Disk one showcases the gradient of styles in their single catalog, whereas disk two highlights the experimentation going on in their deeper cuts. Anyway, it’s my favorite compilation of all time, and if you haven’t really gotten into New Order, you can’t really ask for a better “starter kit” so to speak. 

Depeche Mode - Black Celebration (1986)

Yeah, I know Violator and Music for the Masses are probobly the better albums from an “objective” standpoint, and I love those albums too, but this album IS Depeche Mode for me. Every. Track. Kills.  It is one of the only albums I can both wake up to AND fall asleep to. This album was the musical direction started with Construction Time Again, and refined with Some Great Reward, perfected to a mirror sheen. It is a very cold album, of all the “black” albums out there, I’d say this is the blackest. It’s dark in both sound, subject matter, and tone. Alan Wilder, Marvin Gore, Dave Gahan, and Andy Fletcher were at their absolute top of their game with this record, the ultimate culmination of their start as an OMD-esque new wave act that wanted to be the next Kraftwork, into this fully formed mixture of synthpop with german industrial music and a dash of krautrock that became their own musical identity.  And on a personal note, the synthlines and hooks on this record specifically just do something to my brain, it has a flavor that’s all it’s own, and it’s one of the unique records that, for me at least, just does not get old. 

The Killers - Day and Age (2008)

This one is REALLY personal for me. The Killers are probobly the first band I really “discovered” on my own. Nobody really showed them to me, I just heard the music somewhere (I think I actually heard it on the radio at a video game store), I liked it, and I bought the record.  But man, this album and me have gotten to know each other very very well over the years. During most of high school I would listen to this album, beginning to end, almost every single night. I just loved it that much. I know every word on this album, I know every note. It’s so ingrained in who I am at this point that I have difficulty imagining my adolescent development without it. I was such a new thing to me at that time, this very European flavor of alternative rock with some light keyboards in there for good measure. And honestly, while I like all the Killers albums to at least some extent, they never really recaptured the magic of this album for me personally. They started leaning more into the rock aspect of their music after this, and I like Battleborn just fine, but this album was just pure gold (again, for me). Day and Age is not the best album on this list, but it is an irreplaceable part of my soul.

David Bowie - Diamond Dogs (1974)

Of the vast legacy of records the late, great, David Bowie left us, Diamond Dogs is my personal favorite. I understand why some people may prefer Aladdin Sane, Low, or Ziggy Stardust, and those are incredible albums too, but in terms of raw musical quality, creativity, and originality, Diamond Dogs has to win it. This record was the swan song of Bowie’s glam rock era, with shades of the soul style he would move into after period with the Young Americans record (which I also really love). The intro alone makes this record for me (that “THIS AIN’T ROCK AND ROLL! THIS IS GENOCIDE!” line gives me chills every time), and it just gets better and better from there (Rebel Rebel, Sweet Thing, and the title track itself all rank among my favorite songs). It’s a very dark album thematically, taking a lot of inspiration from George Orwell’s novel 1984, which Bowie was somewhat obsessed with at the time. Bowie had initially actually wanted to do an adaptation of 1984 itself, but was unable to get the rights, which forced him to get creative, and I think the album is all the better for it.  For me, this album is a concentrated chunk of exactly what made David Bowie, quite possibly, the greatest musician of the last century, he is dearly missed.

The Who - Quadrophenia (1973)

This is the album that has been my “Favorite” for longer than any other. My relationship with this album actually started, if you’ll believe this, with the cassette version. My family had just moved and my dad and I were unpacking boxes, when I opened up a box of cassettes, randomly picked out this one, recognized the band name and said something along the lines of “Oh, The Who, I know them, this tape any good?” my dad looked over and said “That tape isn’t just ‘good’ it’s one of the best albums ever made! You should take that and listen to it, see what I mean.” I did. My dad was absolutely right. Quadrophenia is, in my opinion, the peak of what a rock opera can be. Every song could be listened to out of context and enjoyed for what it is, but IN context each song becomes a piece of a bigger story about, among other things, the violence between rival gangs of Mods and Rockers in England in the early to mid 1960′s (and The Who’s cultural place at that time, as they were a very popular group with many of those Mods when most of the big riots took place). Of course I didn’t fully understand that at the time (I was like 12 when I got that tape), I could tell there was some kind of story going on through, and I spent so long listening to this album, over and over, trying to “figure it out.” The fact that the music itself rocked too was just icing on the cake. Anyway, I love this album, and if were forced to actually pick an all time favorite, I think this one might be it...

Marilyn Mansion - Mechanical Animals (1998)

...But if you ask me what album I like listening to the most, this is the one. I don’t like using this term, but for me, this album might be the closest thing any record has come to “perfect” from a musical standpoint. It ticks ALL my boxes. When I first listened to this album I was going to play it the background whaile I did something else, I don’t even remember what that was because I just ended up staring at the album art for the entire record because I was so entranced by the music. There is NOTHING else like it. It’s this amalgamation of glam rock, industrial rock, electronic music, it it completely genera defying; and this is the point in Manson’s carer when he really started to understand where his strengths as a vocalist laid, his voice is absolutely entrancing on this album, his best vocal work by far.  On that note, before Marilyn Manson, I didn’t really “get” the importance of lyrics and vocals in music, I mean I liked them as another set of sounds to compliment the instrumental aspect, but I always thought of the voice as another instrument more then anything else. Manson changed all that for me, his lyrics add such an intrinsic element to all his music, and are such an important aspect of the flavor and tonality it takes, that if you took the lyrics out of ANY of his songs they would simply not be the same song any more.  And I’d observed that on Antichrist Superstar as well, but this album was what really sealed the deal for me. It actually opened a lot of doors for me, it’s how I first started getting into David Bowie and Bauhaus because I heard they were big influences, which got me branching out to new generas of music I hadn’t really tried before, it’s become a very special album to me. The best way to describe this record is actually something I once read in a Youtube comment section for The Dope Show music video (no really):  “This song makes me want to drink six red bulls and roll around in glitter.” Couldn’t have said it better myself.

The Cure - Disintegration (1989)

I know what you’re thinking, what could possibly follow that last wall of text? Disintegration. That’s what. This album is pure, non-diluted, magic. The Cure might actually be my favorite band, I legitimately can’t think of a record of theirs that I completely dislike (Wild Mood Swings is probobly the worst, and even it’s got some good songs), and this album was the absolute pinnacle of their career, for me. They’d brightened up from gloomy stuff for a few records (namely: The Top, Head on the Door, and Kiss Me, all of which I love as well), so it was about time to goth it up again. And goth they did! But it wasn’t just a straight return to the gloomy goth rock of the first few records, this was something fresh and new, but still dark in it’s own way. It incorporated elements of dream pop and new wave into the aforementioned gothic rock style they themselves had pioneered in years past.  What resulted is a record that is, quite simply, dreamlike. The instrumentation just feels like something out of a dream, it’s almost indescribable. I don’t even really know what instruments make half of the sounds on this album, I’m not sure I want to, tangibility might lesson that quality of the music. And not only that, but the lyrics and the music, despite the very overt melancholic tone of the record, have a strange sweetness to them, an almost optimistic undertone underneath all the sadness and the depression. “Bitter-sweet” is probobly the best way I can think to describe the feeling this album teases out for me. It’s the feeling of laughing and crying at the same time, that’s the best I can do to describe how this music makes me feel. Rain is a constant theme on this record it’s referenced both explicitly and implicitly, and I think that’s the best environment to listen to this album in; wait for a heavy rain storm, preferably morning to midday, put the record on in the middle of the storm, and if you’re lucky then just as the last chords of the untitled ending track play you can look out your window, and see the sun shining through the clouds. That is Disintegration, to me.

Honorable mentions!

Pink Floyd - The Wall (loved it as a kid, but it’s so overplayed that I’m sick of it) Gorillaz - Gorillaz/Demon Days/Plastic Beach (way too hard to pick one Gorillaz album)  Morrissey - Your Arsenal (only first heard it recently, possible future top 10) The Smiths - The Queen is Dead (ditto) Joy Division - Unknown Pleasures (haven't had enough time with it) Nine Inch Nails - The Fragile (very very close #11) Siouxie and the Banshees - Juju (probobly even with The Fragile) Chelsea Wolfe - Pain is Beauty (need more time with it) The Birthday Massacre - Violet (#12) Skinny Puppy - Last Rights (probobly even with Violet)

If you’ve read this far then... I don’t know why frankly but thank you for humoring me!

[littlewalken]

Sep 13

They installed themselves above the trash can as our new green fly trap. I am wondering if this is the same mantis which took up residence at the mouth of the fly bag and pigged out on everything but the wings. If you have a fly problem and see a mantis around find a way to move it to where it’s needed most. Even better if you give it a plant to hide in. The worst that will happen is a lady mantis will lay eggs there and you’ll have a colony but then again some cultures keep them as pets. 

Zoltan, Dorobo Joe, and Louis.

The only time I managed to get all three of the Volks Excellent Base skin tones. Tan, normal (was it flesh?), and white. I know the guy in the middle has a lighter face, it comes from the time when you could only order from the shop in Florida and they had the tone match the EB Beauty who ended up wanting the eye hole head she came with and when I got his body used it didn’t have a head. He don’t care, that’s just how he is.

Sadly gone are the days when you could order a tan Midi boy, glue some yarn or roving wool on his head, and make him Martin Gore. The biggest issue with making a Goff Barbie out of an N would be is he going to be normal or white?

If you remember a show called Young Blades introducing you to your new fluffy sassy Irish boyfriend before The Misfits you’ll know where Louis comes from and why I made outfits like that for him. 

I and many of the other dolls have pajamas that match this. I want to get them on as many of us as possible and have a group picture taken. 

The rest of the Dollhouse Gang are in the bin. Getting these three out and changing their clothes is a good sign I’m feeling more like dolling again.

Yesterday I saw that little boy statue that gave me ideas I’m not ready to share yet but wrote down in my book. 

More rewriting beat sheets yesterday, I could just sit down and hammer out half of these stories if I wanted or needed to. Some of it is finding a day I won’t be interrupted so if I get in to a groove I can keep it. Some of it just involves getting started as I’m still not used to the wireless keyboard-tablet combo replacing my lap top. 

I also don’t live close enough to a Starbucks or library or some other place easily reached where I could easily get away from where I’m at and get in to some creative enjoyment. Sometimes I don’t mind the TV on wile I write, my brain is just like that, but most of the time the TV is part of a wall of sound to drown out the Life Ruiner’s screaming of very violent and inappropriate things.

Today’s want to reach through the internet and smack some sense in to people although I respect their right to have their opinion involves this-

Anyone who complains “where’s the passion” or anything along that line needs to have a sit down discussion about said song. 

And how one of the guys who fu#king wrote it sings it kind of dispassionately as well. 

As in maybe this is a song about accepting that once again shit happens because the word AGAIN happens in it. You can’t just know how to sing but why to sing, why the singer wrote the song, what they were trying to say. It’s ‘hope I die before I get old’ because even though grandpa is singing it that concept of old is a state of mind. 

Everything in life is going okay, we’re getting along, then love (the act of making love perhaps?) messes it all up again because either we wanted to try again and see if it would change things or we just don’t quite learn from our mistakes. 

Why is your bedroom so (spiritually) cold?

I am still digesting Dave Gahan’s version, listen for yourself.