Saturday 11 September 2010

Gum Takes Tooth.Dethscalator.Bad Guys drop The Drop..


As my bones drag their weight in autopilot towards the entrance of the club something reminds me of the 9/11 attack at the twin towers: that something is the security guy at the entrance of the building – Man! Chill out!! It’s only a door leading to a pub, not the Fucking U.S. custom! - ..
Please put down your weapon. You have 20 seconds to comply. 20..19..18..

As I walk down the stairs to the club a heavy rock guitar solo hits my brains and then my eyes focus on the weird presence emitting that signal. Think of him as the replacement of Spinal Tap’s guitarist if the deadly curse had been cast on the axe player instead that on the drummer.
Between us is the sweaty crowd and his double neck Gretsch sparkly guitar. That’s PJ, and together with the other mischievous figures they’re the Bad Guys. The singer – who I’ll find out later plays a Nazi in a new Steven Spielberg film – is winding the crowd from down the stage, while Mark is beating the hell out of skins and cymbals and conceiving drum filling that could wake up Jon Bonham’s alcohol smelling rotten body from its sleep to engage in a drum duel with this bad-ass guy. On the far right of the stage there’s Dave, whose guitar riffs lock perfectly with PJ’s  hard-rock tour de force. I’m pretty late so I manage to inhale only the last three songs. The smell of the smell of 70’s rock impregnates the walls, and the flashes of light beaming from a 1965 180 Lend Camera captures the soul of the action on Polaroid films. I only manage to get out of the building for a fag and some cheap beers from the offie next-door when sudden catastrophe strikes: the manager of the pub cancels the gig because of noise complaints from the neighbourhood. WHAT!!!? Something stinks. And this time is not me..
FACT: The Drop is a venue UNDERNEATH a pub.
FACT: There are lots of angry people asking for their money back as two bands still have two play – I actually don’t mind about the money but I make sure that they go to promoters and bands but NOT to anybody running the venue-
FACT: IF YOU ARE A PROMOTER OR YOU PLAY IN A BAND DON’T PLAY AT THE DROP IN STOKE NEWINGTON
So yeah! You’ll think that this is the end of it, but Tony –the man behind the 180 Lend Camera – proposes to move the gig to his warehouse up the road. The night is young and screams for more. The amps and the guitars and the drum kit sits impatiently at the front of the evil venue like junkies on cold-turkey waiting for a fix. Then the gear crawl slowly away from the pavement and disappear like magic in black cabs.. destination MAYHEM.

I’ll be honest. I hesitated. I was scared. But hey.. this story screams for more and I can’t let it die half way through.. It would be cold-blooded murder – also I made a MixTape for this special girl and both Dethscalator and Gum Takes Tooth are on it (sharing magnetic tape chemicals with Kate Bush’s Wuthering Heights).
As I walk towards the warehouse more people join this procession from every direction, flooding like a blood stream going straight towards a black heart full of noise. I arrive at this huge black gate at the feet of Mount Doom – ok, it opens electronically.. No Trolls needed.
As the gate opens I know a ceremony’s about to begin. The bands arrived already and the gear is still cold sweating for more action and sitting in front of the gate. I grab one of the amps heads and take it to the building. I’m sure it is probably damn heavy but you can’t feel a thing when you understand the purpose of such weapon of mayhem consumption.
I receive a txt from a friend saying that she’s with Lydia Lunch down in Whitechapel and yes, would be great to meet her but all I want is a wall of noise to puke on my bones. The room’s pores taste of Daniel Johnston. There’s shitloads of the guy memorabilia all over the place. I suddenly remember that I’ve been here before, but that’s another story…
So yeah..as the crowd helps moving equipment and sorting out space for a stage I’m glad to know that Bad Guys will open with another set. YEAH! Then I freak out for a fraction of a second that seems a long time though..there’s a scary painting that looks like me. It stares at me while melting from the wall. Hey! I swear! I didn’t take any acid or any drug! Ah..well..whatever..
Anyway..the gig. I guess spending time talking about the bodies and the cans of lager flying around the place and on top of me can’t really give you a picture of what I suddenly find myself in. The wall of sound screaming from the amps blow me away. Then it blows itself up: one of the amps die and the gig stops.
Wandering around the place while looking for a place to wee I found a magic door that leads down straight to Lea Bridge Canal. Peaceful boats sleeping on the nasty water surface. Then a roar invades the space. I know what it is. I know that I’m doomed. This roar rapes the air..it’s mean..it’s beating slowly ..it grows..and I know it..It’s Dethscalator. Then it’s carnage happening in a surreal Daniel Johnston world. The crowd is trapped in the kinetic motion of the building walls and gravity decides to scrap its laws for a while and I think I never felt like this since my previous life. Millions of spiders climb out of Sound City amps and 4x12 cabinets while a primordial beat bounces my frail body against other bodies. I see friends passing over my head. Others underneath my feet. And yet this creates an ecstatic experience similar to the one that some religions call Heaven. Dan – the singer- is transported by a multitude of hand to a world far above and his weight don’t matter anymore. he’s like Stephen Hawking flying high in the sky experiencing absence of gravity. Then I loose it too and everything becomes black and nasty and..yes..it’s like Black Sabbath but two inches from your face. Dan tries to tell us something from the mic but everything is melted by delay effects - “DAN!!! YOU WHAT!!!??
It’s a short gig. Short but sweet and tasty and bloody. Matt –the guitar player- lost an amp tonight and that hurts..but yeah! The party is on fire and I want to see how Gum Takes Tooth pearls of wisdom on regard of Odontoiatric surgery will drill our cavities.
It starts with a mantra of a delay saying “Thank You” to the people who didn’t let the night drop dead at The Drop. Then Synths and Drums drilling my skull and everything is interrupted by a guy screaming “Hey!!! I found my glasses. Can you believe it man!!!!’ – he disappears in the moshpit and that’s the last thing I see of him. Between the “Thank You” and the specs boy is just a mass of sweat that like The Blob engulfs the space and spreads and melts on the red linoleum floor. All the above glides of orange revolving flashing lights that whisper something to my brain like “jump on the damn sweaty thing or leave this room as soon as you can!!!!” Synth master Yussy is floating high and Tom is in control of drumsticks and triggers even while holding a can of polish beer on his third hand. Space/time continuum fail to make sense and it’s murdered by electronic sounds triggered by the drums. Than “Thank You Thank You Thank You” and the song from their last 7” “Young Mustard” kicks in. Hell brakes loose and we dance and scream and brake bones like the chimp from 2001 A Space Odissey. The sonic blast ends. I leave the place and run for a bus trying to carry myself to the court of Lydia Lunch down in Whitechapel. My heart collapses at a frequency of 27Hz that makes it drop towards my stomach. Neon lights signs with missing letters resemble something of me that I can’t figure out just yet.

1 comment:

  1. wow!! sounds like a great gig man!! sorry I was not there to witness it.

    I was sleeping peacefully in my Scottish bed!

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