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see all the photos from this concert here
Here we are at the London gig of The Cruxshadows' never-ending world tour. In defiance of all accepted wisdom, we have a packed venue on a Monday night. The Cruxshadows have a strong following these days - sufficient even to overcome the dreaded Monday factor, the one day of the week when it's generally assumed you can't get a decent crowd in to any gig. And yet, The Cruxshadows have pulled 'em out of the woodwork. This is obviously a band with clout, a band which can make things happen. Their relentless touring has paid off. They've built up an audience by putting in time on the old-fashioned gig-circuit slog, often making a point of taking in remote towns and smaller venues which many bands would simply overlook. It all goes to prove that this strategy can still pay off. In fact, it's ironic that The Cruxshadows have played live around the UK more extensively in recent years than many UK-based bands. While our lot are sitting around moaning that it can't be done, a band from Florida - of all places! - simply gets out there and does it, and gets a result. There's a lesson to be learned there. But before The Cruxshadows themselves appear
on stage, we have some support bands. Chillburn come from the Netherlands
(although you'd be forgiven for thinking they are a US band, going by the
vocalist's curious American-as-a-second-language accent), they're all dressed
in white, and they're And now, Katscan. Their angular, sleazy,
electro-punk is a probably as far as you can get from regular rock without
leaving the planet. They're back with a new line-up (on stage, at least:
Katscan is otherwise The Cruxshadows pull all the latecomers
and stragglers in from the bar. The band troop on, and all of a sudden
the stage seems to be crowded with women in minimal PVC costumes. The Cruxshadows'
line up, which under normal circumstances is two boys (on keyboards and
vocals) and two girls (on guitar All except one - we haven't mentioned the
frontman yet. And here The Cruxshadows trump everyone else on the circuit,
because in Rogue they have a unique asset, the factor which really makes
the band. Part shaman, part acrobat, part vaudeville ham, he's the focal
point of The Cruxshadows' show. At first, he isn't even on stage: as the
band crank up the music he begins his spoken introduction from behind the
backstage curtain. When he finally emerges, he gets a cheer all to himself.
Sure, that's a hoary old The well-drilled nature of the band is
revealed whenever Rogue indulges in his trademark schtick of jumping into
the audience to deliver the vocals via his clip-on radio mic from the middle
of the bemused Then we come to part two of the show: there's
a brief break, in which Rogue abandons the concept and his scripted introductions,
and greets the audience before the band launch into a set of older material. As a grand finale, the band give us 'Marilyn,
My Bitterness', the only real oldie in a set which is generally biased
towards more recent material. And in yet another manifestation of the band's
showbiz schtick, a bunch of fans are hauled on stage to dance around and
have their moment under the lights. The Cruxshadows have pulled off another
great show: everyone goes home happy.
see all the photos from this concert here The Cruxshadows' website: http://www.cruxshadows.com Dancing Ferret, The Cruxshadows' label: http://www.ferret.com/discs Wings Of Destiny, The Cruxshadows' booking agent: www.wod.de Reviewed by Uncle Nemesis: http://www.nemesis.to 08/29/03 |
allegedly
an industrial band, or at least that's how they've been promoted at this
gig. I say 'allegedly' an industrial band because their music is actually
pretty straightforward rock. A few samples and some jerky stop-start rhythms
bashed out on their electronic drumkit are the only concessions to their
supposed left-field aesthetic. The bassist and guitarist have a fine repertoire
of rock 'n' roll leaps and jumps and shapes, the singer goes into full-on
rock-god mode, and it all....well, rocks, basically. Their songs don't
particularly stick in my brain, aside from 'Supermodel', which has a nagging,
insistent beat, a belter of a chorus, and is poppy enough to be a hit single.
But that's a one-off. At the end of the set I've more or less filed the
band in the 'good at what they do, but it's not my thing' slot. I suspect
that, deep down inside, Chillburn are a fairly regular rock outfit. I get
the impression that they've just speeded everything up a bit and thrown
in some electronic stuff in a bid to appear slick and modern and cool.
But I bet if I went round their houses I'd find they own plenty of Soundgarden
albums.
vocalist
Martino Diablo's solo project) which features a keyboardist in Suede-style
indie-glam gear and Mr. Diablo himself, looking very businesslike in a
Katscan corporate tie. He stalks the stage and raps out his lyrics of surreal
sleaze, fixing the crowd with a half amused, half cynical stare all the
while. It's Katscan's weirdo-glammy-punky attitude which makes the band
stand out from the keyboard band crowd. They have more in common with Specimen
than VNV Nation, and although the fact that there's only two people in
the Katscan live incarnation means the stage isn't exactly crowded, somehow
there's a weird presence about the band which means they fill the space
quite effectively. The music is tough, street-smart electronica; 'Stutter
Cut' particularly hits the spot with its controlled freak-out of a chorus.
It's good to see an electronic band which has a bit of an edge, and which
avoids the trap of simply recycling banal party-party jolly-ups. Katscan
are probably pathologically incapable of uttering the words 'Put your hands
in the air!' - and for that, we should all be profoundly grateful.
and
violin), has been expanded by the addition of two scantily-clad go-go dancers,
one on each side of the stage like the set of a 1960s TV show. Now, cynics
might say that this is a blatant attempt to play the sexxy deth chyx card,
and it's certainly noticeable that the band have no trouble at all in grabbing
the close attention of the male half of the audience. But what the hell.
The Cruxshadows have always operated a policy of 'Give 'em what they want'.
Check the evidence: their music is danceable in an EBM-lite manner, so
it appeals to the club-kids. But it also features chunky guitar, so there's
something for the gothic rock fans to latch on to. Their lyrics typically
run the goth-gamut from relationship-angst to mystical myths 'n' legends
stuff - all bases are touched in that department. The band's male/female
line-up could be purpose-designed to capture the widest cross-section of
the audience - and now, with the addition of the sexxy deth chyx dancers,
there's even more appeal to the sector of the audience which, if we are
to believe music biz research, buys the most CDs and goes to most shows:
young males. Add to this a relentless 'tour everywhere' strategy and you
have all the ingredients of a successful band.
showbiz
trick, a shameless clap trap, but he gets away with it. And then away the
band goes, into a set based around the band's new album, 'Wishfire'. Rogue
prefaces the songs with a series of presumably scripted introductions,
which, along with the songs themselves, seem to tell some sort of mythological
story. It's not really possible to follow every nuance - perhaps you need
to know 'Wishfire' to get it - but it's all highly conceptual, obviously
rehearsed to the hilt. A theatrical presentation, rather than a spontaneous
rock show. But what the hell, it's different and it works - and Rogue's
intense, mad-eyed stage persona certainly commands attention. He has a
habit of thrusting his face alarmingly close to the audience, singing *at*
individual people in the crowd. Some of his victims look very frightened,
some grin delightedly and get into the spirit of it, while others are very
British about the whole thing. They stand there, expressionless, stoically
pretending that nothing unusual is going on and there isn't really a spiky-haired
loon declaiming melodramatically about ancient myths three inches from
their noses.
and
startled crowd. Whenever he does this, the violinist takes a step forward
to occupy the stage-space Rogue has vacated, a move so seamless you'd almost
believe it's choreographed. Unfortunately, the resulting visual image -
four girls, in line across the stage - makes The Cruxshadows look like
a goth version of the Spice Girls, so it's rather a relief when Rogue clambers
back to take up the conventional lead singer's position.
There
are yet more forays out into the audience: at one point Rogue carries a
chair out into the mosh, and, standing on it, appears head and shoulders
above the crowd, gesticulating wildly like a tic-tac man at a very unruly
racecourse. It's all made possible, of course, by his radio mic, which
is strapped to his head throughout the gig, making him look like a manic
cyberpunk cab dispatcher - but there's a down side to this particular piece
of technology, too. Because the microphone is at a fixed distance from
his mouth, there's no chance of using mic technique to assist the vocals
- no going in close to emphasise the bass, no going slightly off-mic to
help the high notes, or to fade the vocal slightly at the end of a line.
Given that Rogue has a somewhat limited range to start with, and his on
(and off) stage antics obviously leave him out of breath, a bit of help
in this way would be useful. As it is, there are several points in the
show when Rogue's vocals become little more than a breathless, monotone
chant. Not that anyone seems to mind too much - the crowd reaction is enthusiastic
throughout - but I can't help thinking that placing this kind of restriction
on an already somewhat restricted singing style isn't necessarily the best
idea.
