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The Damned/Swingin’ Utters/Pleasure Forever
Bluebird Theatre 10-8-01
You should already know that people who
skip the opening act are suckers. Now I can inform you that
those who aren’t privy to sound-checks are just plain unfortunate.
Trying to explain The Damned riffing on "She Comes
In Colors" or "Gimme Some Lovin’" doesn’t make
sense if you weren’t there. But alas, those pleasures are
reserved for bar backs and slimy hack writers who finagle
their way into shows early. And by now, seeing the band as
real persons bantering and making pre-show dinner plans is
an integral part of the concert experience. Little extras
like seeing Captain Sensible limp through the early
crowd unmolested tickled my danglies.
Andrew Rothbard introduces his sucker-foiling
three-piece known as Pleasure Forever by informing
us of their SF origins. This lanky Rothbard fellow stands
behind the keyboard closely positioned to David Clifford’s
center staged drum kit. Clifford, incidentally, spent approximately
a half-hour lovingly fine-tuning his skins for reasons, which
shall shortly become apparent. The non-traditional configuration
and tight grouping with guitarist Joshua Hughes on
the flank suit the band’s unusual delivery. Initially emitting
a high-energy dark British pop sound, Pleasure moves from
Pulp styles into Zeppelin psychedelic blues
workings. The song structures are malleable and often loungy
explorations that locals will equate to Czars and Velveteen
Monster. Rothbard’s vocal emphasis is on Yorkish balladry.
Meanwhile the keys range from creepy Carnival Of Souls
church organ to clanging waltzes. Clifford assaults his precious
drums with a booming ferocity despite the fact that he’s wearing
shit-kickers. The nearly emotionless Mr. Hughes appears as
though he isn’t mentally present. He’s merely acting on his
guitar instinctively and has left us for other pastures. Without
the slightest indication of a cliched fuck-face, he undulates
with his instrument. Ebbing and flowing with the building
intensity while sweat falls from his face onto his scrubbing
hand. Whether Rothbard leads this crew or some nether forces,
he shoots some Svengali glances at the boys during a Doorsy
slowdown. Clifford’s pompadour deluxe has fallen over his
face in a fitting Misfits style as his tom-bashing
power increases. At one point he rises to his feet for more
percussion leverage. The extended orgasmic pumping and grinding
gives a hypnotic Swans dynamic. The heavy sonic precision
often comes off as uncontrolled, specifically by Hughes and
Clifford. It’s as if any second the music may get away from
them. As soon as he smacks down his last beat, the drummer
is dramatically up and out with the applause chasing after
him. This maneuver is strikingly impressive. I think he was
overcome by the possessive experience, but he may have had
to take a whiz real bad.
It’s apparent that many in the crowd laid
out their cash to see The Swingin’ Utters. If not because
they know all the words and scream, "We paid to see YOU!"
and that they are willing to stage-dive and intentionally
upset folks’ beers and get thrown out before the headliners.
The Utters put out lively punk rock with heavy doses of flavor.
Mixing in the energy of Guttermouth with Dropkick
Murphy’s folk elements. Johnny Bonnel gives plenty
of goofy Gas Huffer dance moves while he barks out
street punk anthems. The pit agrees and pumps their fists.
Bonnel carelessly wraps the cord round his reddened face to
great effect. Spitting out words to the point that he is literally
drooling. (Barely missed that shot.) The frantic supporters
surprisingly do not return spitfire. Guitarist Max Huber
is relatively motionless, cranking away at his strings and
looking generally mellow and contented. Spike Slawson
seems to have some say in the proceedings, adding emotional
vocals and plenty of smirks between deep bass runs. For a
couple numbers, Darius Koski lays down the bass to
"strap on his flesh-colored device" which turns
out to be an accordion. Not so much a novelty in this context
as an integral part of the songs. And when Koski dons the
acoustic and the band leaves him onstage with Bonnel, the
cry goes out for Filthy Thieving Bastards’ "Red
Roses." Koski responds smiling in true Nick Cave
style, "Wrong band." The Braggish number they proceed
with is a barren folk-punk piece that would make Gordon
Gano jealous. Bonnel brings the same energy to the slowed
down songs that he offers the barnburners. The rest of the
band returns and gets the kids riled up enough to get kicked
out some more.
Dave Vanian and I are both liars.
Dave insists on touting this populist theory that punk died
in 1977. Then with Captain Sensible back onboard he delivers
a brand spanking new record, which disproves the whole thing.
I won’t get into the whole undead zombie of punk thing, so
don’t try it. I, on the other hand, tell the wife things like,
"How do I know if that guy’s sexy, I can’t tell."
Well I can tell you that Vanian is a sexy, sexy man swinging
like the King and flamenco dancing in his gauchos. Being 43
and looking that young, he must be undead. He’s always been
the fantastic showman, but this time I couldn’t take my eyes
off him. Maybe the shock of seeing his luscious missus Patricia
Morrison up there wore off the last time. It’s no surprise
that the first new album in years gets the spotlight, as "Democracy?"
and "Beauty Of The Beast" blend perfectly with the
historic punk single, "New Rose." Someone expresses
shock that it comes in so early, but I still have plenty of
essentials to come. The good Captain wearing the leopard pajamas
I had as a youth provides a frenetic silliness that infects
keyboardist Monty Oxy Moron and Vanian. I’m also vindicated
in my fervent claim that Vanian is part vampire, part Elvis
and part evangelist, when he plays up the TV preacher angle.
Gesturing assuredly with his patented non-leather gloves,
he dances through most the material from Grave Disorder.
His confident voice has stayed with him, as his onstage antics
have gotten better. On drums, Pinch has big shoes to
fill, but his talents as an English Dog are put to
good use in this band. His pink hair occasionally bobs up
from behind the ringing cymbals. During "Amen" it
occurs to me Morrison should have had some more speaking parts
in these proceedings. Hell, we all know what she can do, and
Poison Ivy gets to sing more than she does. Sensible
viciously extols the virtues of St Lennon to introduce "Would
You Be So Hot (If You Weren't Dead?)" the best Beatle
song since "One Down Three To Go." Oh, come on;
get a sense of humor you hippies! They also take on the (other)
gloved monster in "Neverland." Now there’s pith
and vinegar all over the stage and a smirk all over Vanian.
I distinctly recall hearing "Thrill Kill" and the
tribute to that most mysterious of liqueurs "Absinthe"
from the new record. In dispute is whether they played "I
Feel Alright". I enjoyed a version that may well have
been all in my head. I was surprised by the crowd-pleaser
"Eloise" when they have so much better to choose
from. Everyone goes nuts during "Neat Neat Neat";
even the unfortunate whom Vanian chooses to offer the mike
to. Vanian points at him indignantly to indicate the poor
guy didn’t know the words.
This is one of the rare occasions when an
encore was actually warranted by both the performance and
the audience response. Naturally I had taken my last frame
and got no photos of Sensible in his pink tutu and matching
wig. "Love Song" was a particularly screaming version,
seeing how everyone was re-energized by the break and in their
ballet outfits with fresh drugs on. A would-be stage diver
gets the strong-arm by stage manager Tim, who still
hasn’t caught on that injuries to equipment, audience, stage-diver
and the singer who comes to stage-diver’s defense are greatly
increased when you attempt to struggle with him. He’s already
going offstage, people, just let nature take its course. Someone
accents the Cap’n with a furry pink jacket, which I don’t
think he returned. "This is a song by The Offspring,"
Vanian jokes. Between "Smash It Up Parts 1 & 2",
Vanian throws in a taste of Iggy’s "1969"
and some Elvis that I can’t quite recall. Some pit dwellers
start gobbing at Sensible, which draws Tim back down to reprimand
them. This time I’m on his side. But the Captain is on his
other side, and we all know by now you shouldn’t turn your
back to the Cap. Tim receives the dry humping of his life.
The gobbers seem satisfied with enjoying his dilemma, situation
diffused. The grand finale comes with my beloved "Disco
Man." Nothing else could have topped it, Vanian leaping
from the drum riser and Travolting around while they put out
all the energy they’ve held back. There’s easily enough applause
for a second encore, but as stated, how can you top that?
- Ewan Wadharmi
Talk Back
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