Top Five Singers I Have Watched Perspire The Most
Honorable Mentions: Bowie went for broke one night and climbed on top of a piano, Jim Thirlwell tried hard but didn't sweat (I think this is because he is from an alien planet), when he still told people to call him Brian, Marilyn Manson slashed and burned himself but remained pale and clammy, Barbara Hunter (touring with Pigface) sprayed so much water from her mouth that it was hard to discern what was water going in and what was water coming out, and [one of the most embarassing shows to have gone to, it was a multi-bill thing with the Violent Femmes who were why I went] the guy from Train climbed so high up into the lighting scaffolding that I thought he was going to fall and die but he was buff and crazy enough that his hands didn't get slippery enough to kill him...
5. Tom Shear (Assemblage 23). He's a burly guy with a whole lot of power. The stage thumped as he ran around. I'd chatted with him for a while before the show, so he wasn't scary--but I'll never forget how loud he was when he stormed the stage and shouted, "C'mon!" Big dude who is half-Depeche Mode and half-stompy EBM. Many white towels to mop his face throughout the headlining set. I love how he worked the audience over like a backyard wrassler but had such deft and subtle production techniques.
4. Mike Patton (Tomahawk's first tour). Some was that he pounded water, most of it was that he caterwauled like a witch being burned at the stake. I remember him spitting saliva into a bucket hidden under a keyboard. I bet there was blood in it. I used to sing and shred my vocal cords and I always wondered how he could perform like that live night after night without hurting himself. Turns out he shreds his throat on album and uses safer technique live. He also compensated with pedals some...but hitting those notes, screaming so elegantly and pricisely, he was febrile enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him.
3. Todd Baechle (The Faint). A friend who had grown up with him turned me on to them before they got bigger. We went to a dive bar in Denver. About 7 of us. It was a local hangout bar. No one else came to see them. The band came in, looked around and got ready to leave. Then they saw Heather. They shrugged, set up faster than I've ever seen, barely even made sure everything was plugged in and then freaked out at the bar's staff for wanting to leave the lights on in the corner so the regulars could shoot pool. Todd started yelling, insisting on total darkness. They wouldn't turn off the Emergency Exit signs but he had black electrical tape that he used to cover lights that were bothering him. He was beet red before they even started and he hadn't stopped zooming around since they'd set the amps down when they walked in. Then they destroyed the world. I've seen plenty of extremely scary industrial shows but I've never been so worried that the building would just collapse. It was palsy and it was vengeance. Afterwards, I considered asking him if we should go to the hospital so he could get a transfusion. Instead I asked him if he wanted to sleep on my couch. I felt like I should just carry him home. Seven people. Yeah, he freaked out at the staff a litle, but he gave everything he had for seven people.
2. Ani Defranco. Instruments actually make it harder to sweat. You get pinned in place and you can't run as amok. Again, we're not talking sweating hard, we're talking "professional athlete I have never seen a musician sweat this much" level. She had an acoustic guitar that was wireless miked. The audience was 80-90% female back then. She had a radio hit with "Outta Me" and she didn't even bother to play it. All she did was jump up and down, scream and play that guitar. That was like fifteen years ago and I thought she would always be the title holder. Her entire body was soaked and her dreads were slicked to the side of her head. By only being partway electric (miked acoustic), she had to strike those strings and pound on the wood so accursedly hard. She was a puddle and she was a downpour.
1. Ronan Harris (VNV Nation). They've been ripped off by everyone from Seabound and more recent Covenant, even bands like The Knife and AFI. But going to see them at the Paradise last Friday night, I wasn't sure how they would alternate between the ballads and the industrial Teutonic stuff. Honestly, I've never seen an industrial party band before. He weighs a lot. And he kept up this wacky patter even during the songs. It was like Jonathan Winters singing for Nine Inch Nails. By the end of the show, his clothing was made of liquid. How he did that operatic thing while running from side to side on the small stage, never turning his back, running backwards half the time, I will never understand. This is obviously not a unique occurrence. By the second encore it was obvious that his entire outfit is designed to soak all the way through like construction gear or something. It was a relentless attack, his words popped and mist sprayed everywhere. When people stopped dancing, he yelled at them. When people started crashing into each other, he screamed even louder that they had to stop so no one would get hurt. Maybe that gorgeous voice is easy for him, but I thinkthe physicality of what he did would kill most other middle-aged fat men. I heard about a bizarre rider years ago that VNV Nation only allowed black towels in their dressing room. Now I understand. So much grotesque and festering sweat leaped from that operatic madman. The specially-designed clothing and black towels (that I presume were backstage) were to save the world from the unholy and clotted ichor that sprayed from his body. At one point, he brought the mic up to his mouth and I watched sweat start at his shoulder, run down his elbow and plop to the floor. Most eyedroppers are too small to catch how much sweat splashed to the floor in that single drop.
5. Tom Shear (Assemblage 23). He's a burly guy with a whole lot of power. The stage thumped as he ran around. I'd chatted with him for a while before the show, so he wasn't scary--but I'll never forget how loud he was when he stormed the stage and shouted, "C'mon!" Big dude who is half-Depeche Mode and half-stompy EBM. Many white towels to mop his face throughout the headlining set. I love how he worked the audience over like a backyard wrassler but had such deft and subtle production techniques.
4. Mike Patton (Tomahawk's first tour). Some was that he pounded water, most of it was that he caterwauled like a witch being burned at the stake. I remember him spitting saliva into a bucket hidden under a keyboard. I bet there was blood in it. I used to sing and shred my vocal cords and I always wondered how he could perform like that live night after night without hurting himself. Turns out he shreds his throat on album and uses safer technique live. He also compensated with pedals some...but hitting those notes, screaming so elegantly and pricisely, he was febrile enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him.
3. Todd Baechle (The Faint). A friend who had grown up with him turned me on to them before they got bigger. We went to a dive bar in Denver. About 7 of us. It was a local hangout bar. No one else came to see them. The band came in, looked around and got ready to leave. Then they saw Heather. They shrugged, set up faster than I've ever seen, barely even made sure everything was plugged in and then freaked out at the bar's staff for wanting to leave the lights on in the corner so the regulars could shoot pool. Todd started yelling, insisting on total darkness. They wouldn't turn off the Emergency Exit signs but he had black electrical tape that he used to cover lights that were bothering him. He was beet red before they even started and he hadn't stopped zooming around since they'd set the amps down when they walked in. Then they destroyed the world. I've seen plenty of extremely scary industrial shows but I've never been so worried that the building would just collapse. It was palsy and it was vengeance. Afterwards, I considered asking him if we should go to the hospital so he could get a transfusion. Instead I asked him if he wanted to sleep on my couch. I felt like I should just carry him home. Seven people. Yeah, he freaked out at the staff a litle, but he gave everything he had for seven people.
2. Ani Defranco. Instruments actually make it harder to sweat. You get pinned in place and you can't run as amok. Again, we're not talking sweating hard, we're talking "professional athlete I have never seen a musician sweat this much" level. She had an acoustic guitar that was wireless miked. The audience was 80-90% female back then. She had a radio hit with "Outta Me" and she didn't even bother to play it. All she did was jump up and down, scream and play that guitar. That was like fifteen years ago and I thought she would always be the title holder. Her entire body was soaked and her dreads were slicked to the side of her head. By only being partway electric (miked acoustic), she had to strike those strings and pound on the wood so accursedly hard. She was a puddle and she was a downpour.
1. Ronan Harris (VNV Nation). They've been ripped off by everyone from Seabound and more recent Covenant, even bands like The Knife and AFI. But going to see them at the Paradise last Friday night, I wasn't sure how they would alternate between the ballads and the industrial Teutonic stuff. Honestly, I've never seen an industrial party band before. He weighs a lot. And he kept up this wacky patter even during the songs. It was like Jonathan Winters singing for Nine Inch Nails. By the end of the show, his clothing was made of liquid. How he did that operatic thing while running from side to side on the small stage, never turning his back, running backwards half the time, I will never understand. This is obviously not a unique occurrence. By the second encore it was obvious that his entire outfit is designed to soak all the way through like construction gear or something. It was a relentless attack, his words popped and mist sprayed everywhere. When people stopped dancing, he yelled at them. When people started crashing into each other, he screamed even louder that they had to stop so no one would get hurt. Maybe that gorgeous voice is easy for him, but I thinkthe physicality of what he did would kill most other middle-aged fat men. I heard about a bizarre rider years ago that VNV Nation only allowed black towels in their dressing room. Now I understand. So much grotesque and festering sweat leaped from that operatic madman. The specially-designed clothing and black towels (that I presume were backstage) were to save the world from the unholy and clotted ichor that sprayed from his body. At one point, he brought the mic up to his mouth and I watched sweat start at his shoulder, run down his elbow and plop to the floor. Most eyedroppers are too small to catch how much sweat splashed to the floor in that single drop.