[Review/flailing] The Last Dance/Screaming Banshee Aircrew gig
Excuse me in advance, dear readers - this is not going to be an entirely coherent review, because last Sunday night's (fantastic) gig got a little interactive in a couple of places so I may still be slightly hyper from my very paltry five minutes of fame. ^_^
For those who don't know these things, The Last Dance are an American goth/darkwave act whom Fire & Forget supported on a previous appearance in Cambridge a while back. I'd never heard of them before we picked up the slot, but I fell very much in love with them when I saw them on the night and therefore when I heard they were back in the country, I was determined to see them again. When I found out that the mighty Screaming Banshee Aircrew were supporting on the first and last nights of the tour, that just made me even more determined. :)
So, on Sunday I hopped in the back of alixandrea's van and was whisked off to London. (If there's a better way to be freighted around, by the bye, than lying on a folding sofa in the back of a converted transit-style van, staring up at a ceiling with stars on it and occasionally sitting up to peek out at the highway, with music playing and friends piled around you? I've yet to hear about it.) Due to some interesting times with the motorway traffic I got to the show a bit after opening - alone, since Alix and Dave had allegedly gone to park the van, telling me to head down from Golders Green without them and they'd catch me up...
Anyway, the upshot was that I missed Cryogenica, and took one look at Evi Vine and backed hastily off to the bar. Female vocals and violins can be my thing sometimes but sadly on this occasion I missed the target demographic by a mile, and had to lurk at bay with the strange feeling that someone was pelting me with marshmallows. However, the show was running a bit ahead of schedule so it wasn't long before I got to scamper down the front (along with valkyriekaren, d_floorlandmine, ceb and damerell, all of whom I'd found at the bar) for Screaming Banshee Aircrew - watching my step on those hideously-badly-lit stairs down to the Underworld's main auditorium on the way. I love the Underworld but it's not the safest or most negotiable venue I've ever been in.
And at this point I went from feeling like a random punter, to suddenly having a foot on the scene totem pole, as toripink spotted me from the stage as she was setting up, waved, grinned hugely, and called out "What are you doing here?!"
I waved back. "Supporting you guys, of course!" I think my face looked something like this: ^_____^.
SBA were great. I will admit that I don't know their entire back catalogue, but I really enjoyed the songs I didn't know and as usual bounced like a maniac to the ones I did. The absolute best moment, though, for me personally, was when mister_ed decided at the beginning of In Flames (I think it was that one, anyway!) that he couldn't manage without his missing microphone stand any longer (what had he done with it? Who can say.) He gave me a considering look where I stood, bouncing gleefully, before him in the front row - then grabbed my upraised and waving left hand, stuck the mic in it, carefully straightened my arm out to the right height and proceeded to use ME as the mic stand. Since I was practically frozen solid with surprise, I obligingly stayed exactly where he put me until he caught my wrist, dropped to a crouch - bringing my arm down with him - and snagged the mic back to carry on with the show.
Well, whoa. Having a rock star suddenly grab you and put you to use like some kind of stage prop, in the middle of a show in front of the entire crowd, is the kind of thing you really have to experience for yourself - and it was totally one of the highlights of my night, thank you Ed! (It's just as well that I don't have an embarrassing crush on him or anything, or I'd probably have made matters entirely more inconvenient by fainting. ^_~)
After that, the rest of the set went by in a happy haze of sleaze and glitter that culminated in a glorious rendition of Cool Ghoul Band (I think that's the title, I've yet to hear it called from the stage so I'm guessing!), complete with the most OTT tangle of guitars, legs and glitter to grace a stage since David Bowie and Mick Ronson stopped pretending they were shagging. Fantastic, is what it was. SBA rule.
The Last Dance seemed, if anything, a bit self-conscious. When I saw them in Cambridge they performed like something out of a Poppy Z Brite novel, like they were lost in their own world and they expected us to come along for the ride willy-nilly; this time there was a lot more talking to the crowd and shuffling of figurative feet between tracks. I also couldn't help but notice that vocalist Jeff seemed to have swapped out some of the emotive depth he displays on record for a double shot of aggression, spitting out his lines like a handful of razors.
Which actually worked really well, given the edges of anger and bitterness and sarcastic cruelty that they so like to bury in their songs, cunningly wrapped up in the fluid melodies and soaring keyboards and left for you to slice your heart open on. Especially when they decided to do the beautiful, vicious Special Little Gift two songs in - I really love that song and from that point, they had me firmly on-side for the rest of the set. I was also smitten with the gorgeous Do You Believe In Angels, but the highlight had to be when they hauled Ed up onstage to sing the duet of Dead Man's Party, which I love and was just fantastic especially the bit when Jeff stuck his hand down the front of Ed's shirt. Fantastic fun, great playful atmosphere, and, as always, gorgeous songs.
And then it was over, and I was left hunting around the place to see where Alix and Dave had gone. No go - but I did find toripink, who sneaked me backstage for five minutes to talk bands and shows and exchange hugs, which was really lovely of her (thanks Tori!) Unfortunately she had to go and rejoin her boys for the trip home, so I went back into the main venue and found Amy, who'd managed to get in past the bouncers to look for us! We made our way outside (pausing to help a couple of passing goths get a folding wheelchair up the stairs - the Underworld is not going to win any prizes for accessibility anytime soon!) and of course, as soon as I got back to somewhere where I had phone signal, I picked up a text saying Alix and Dave hadn't made it but would pick us up after the show.
We waited on the corner round the side of the World's End - and the evening had one last treat in store for me. I spotted Jeff leaning by the wall, talking to a couple of friends, and, as you do, poked my nose over there to call out: "Great show, thanks, man!"
He looked around, saw me, smiled, and... came over and gave me a hug. "Hello!"
Well, bugger me sideways. He blatantly remembered me. Me, the lowly bass player of a two-bit local band who opened for his boys months ago in a different city. Would you believe it? We didn't exchange more than a few words, as he was with a bunch of other people who clearly had prior claim on him and I was trying to look for our ride at the same time, but still. Add that to Ed's earlier singling-out, and it made my night. ^___^
And then Alix and Dave showed up and grabbed us off the streets, and I talked to them and listened to Jim Steinman all the way home and it would have been perfect if I hadn't known I had eighty pages of copy-editing left to do when I got in. >.>
Still. As perfect nights out go, that one came pretty damn close. ^_^
Laters,
Rath
For those who don't know these things, The Last Dance are an American goth/darkwave act whom Fire & Forget supported on a previous appearance in Cambridge a while back. I'd never heard of them before we picked up the slot, but I fell very much in love with them when I saw them on the night and therefore when I heard they were back in the country, I was determined to see them again. When I found out that the mighty Screaming Banshee Aircrew were supporting on the first and last nights of the tour, that just made me even more determined. :)
So, on Sunday I hopped in the back of alixandrea's van and was whisked off to London. (If there's a better way to be freighted around, by the bye, than lying on a folding sofa in the back of a converted transit-style van, staring up at a ceiling with stars on it and occasionally sitting up to peek out at the highway, with music playing and friends piled around you? I've yet to hear about it.) Due to some interesting times with the motorway traffic I got to the show a bit after opening - alone, since Alix and Dave had allegedly gone to park the van, telling me to head down from Golders Green without them and they'd catch me up...
Anyway, the upshot was that I missed Cryogenica, and took one look at Evi Vine and backed hastily off to the bar. Female vocals and violins can be my thing sometimes but sadly on this occasion I missed the target demographic by a mile, and had to lurk at bay with the strange feeling that someone was pelting me with marshmallows. However, the show was running a bit ahead of schedule so it wasn't long before I got to scamper down the front (along with valkyriekaren, d_floorlandmine, ceb and damerell, all of whom I'd found at the bar) for Screaming Banshee Aircrew - watching my step on those hideously-badly-lit stairs down to the Underworld's main auditorium on the way. I love the Underworld but it's not the safest or most negotiable venue I've ever been in.
And at this point I went from feeling like a random punter, to suddenly having a foot on the scene totem pole, as toripink spotted me from the stage as she was setting up, waved, grinned hugely, and called out "What are you doing here?!"
I waved back. "Supporting you guys, of course!" I think my face looked something like this: ^_____^.
SBA were great. I will admit that I don't know their entire back catalogue, but I really enjoyed the songs I didn't know and as usual bounced like a maniac to the ones I did. The absolute best moment, though, for me personally, was when mister_ed decided at the beginning of In Flames (I think it was that one, anyway!) that he couldn't manage without his missing microphone stand any longer (what had he done with it? Who can say.) He gave me a considering look where I stood, bouncing gleefully, before him in the front row - then grabbed my upraised and waving left hand, stuck the mic in it, carefully straightened my arm out to the right height and proceeded to use ME as the mic stand. Since I was practically frozen solid with surprise, I obligingly stayed exactly where he put me until he caught my wrist, dropped to a crouch - bringing my arm down with him - and snagged the mic back to carry on with the show.
Well, whoa. Having a rock star suddenly grab you and put you to use like some kind of stage prop, in the middle of a show in front of the entire crowd, is the kind of thing you really have to experience for yourself - and it was totally one of the highlights of my night, thank you Ed! (It's just as well that I don't have an embarrassing crush on him or anything, or I'd probably have made matters entirely more inconvenient by fainting. ^_~)
After that, the rest of the set went by in a happy haze of sleaze and glitter that culminated in a glorious rendition of Cool Ghoul Band (I think that's the title, I've yet to hear it called from the stage so I'm guessing!), complete with the most OTT tangle of guitars, legs and glitter to grace a stage since David Bowie and Mick Ronson stopped pretending they were shagging. Fantastic, is what it was. SBA rule.
The Last Dance seemed, if anything, a bit self-conscious. When I saw them in Cambridge they performed like something out of a Poppy Z Brite novel, like they were lost in their own world and they expected us to come along for the ride willy-nilly; this time there was a lot more talking to the crowd and shuffling of figurative feet between tracks. I also couldn't help but notice that vocalist Jeff seemed to have swapped out some of the emotive depth he displays on record for a double shot of aggression, spitting out his lines like a handful of razors.
Which actually worked really well, given the edges of anger and bitterness and sarcastic cruelty that they so like to bury in their songs, cunningly wrapped up in the fluid melodies and soaring keyboards and left for you to slice your heart open on. Especially when they decided to do the beautiful, vicious Special Little Gift two songs in - I really love that song and from that point, they had me firmly on-side for the rest of the set. I was also smitten with the gorgeous Do You Believe In Angels, but the highlight had to be when they hauled Ed up onstage to sing the duet of Dead Man's Party, which I love and was just fantastic especially the bit when Jeff stuck his hand down the front of Ed's shirt. Fantastic fun, great playful atmosphere, and, as always, gorgeous songs.
And then it was over, and I was left hunting around the place to see where Alix and Dave had gone. No go - but I did find toripink, who sneaked me backstage for five minutes to talk bands and shows and exchange hugs, which was really lovely of her (thanks Tori!) Unfortunately she had to go and rejoin her boys for the trip home, so I went back into the main venue and found Amy, who'd managed to get in past the bouncers to look for us! We made our way outside (pausing to help a couple of passing goths get a folding wheelchair up the stairs - the Underworld is not going to win any prizes for accessibility anytime soon!) and of course, as soon as I got back to somewhere where I had phone signal, I picked up a text saying Alix and Dave hadn't made it but would pick us up after the show.
We waited on the corner round the side of the World's End - and the evening had one last treat in store for me. I spotted Jeff leaning by the wall, talking to a couple of friends, and, as you do, poked my nose over there to call out: "Great show, thanks, man!"
He looked around, saw me, smiled, and... came over and gave me a hug. "Hello!"
Well, bugger me sideways. He blatantly remembered me. Me, the lowly bass player of a two-bit local band who opened for his boys months ago in a different city. Would you believe it? We didn't exchange more than a few words, as he was with a bunch of other people who clearly had prior claim on him and I was trying to look for our ride at the same time, but still. Add that to Ed's earlier singling-out, and it made my night. ^___^
And then Alix and Dave showed up and grabbed us off the streets, and I talked to them and listened to Jim Steinman all the way home and it would have been perfect if I hadn't known I had eighty pages of copy-editing left to do when I got in. >.>
Still. As perfect nights out go, that one came pretty damn close. ^_^
Laters,
Rath