Goth Rage at Rebel
For better or for worse, I’ll admit that I enjoyed the occasional outing to the the Batcave/Albion on the Goth/Industrial nights. Just wear something black, get a mildly overpriced Redbull and Coke in ya and then stomp around while punching at shit that isn’t there to fast remixes of your favorite songs by Rob Zombie, Nine Inch Nails and Marilyn Manson. And then they closed it.
It was a slow progression from moving the Goth night to a crappier day in favor of Hip Hop, to eventually canceling the whole thing. I lost track of it then, but last night I attended a show at some exciting “new” venue called Rebel. And seriously, up to the very moment I finally walked in to be confronted by chandeliers and cathedral ceilings, I had no idea where I was. And then it hit me! Oh crap, they just renamed the friggin Batcave again!
This is the place where I once fell in love with Combichrist (just to quickly fall out of love upon listening to ther actual albums–live performances can be deceiving) and this was the place I was hoping to reexperience Hanzel und Gretyl whom I saw a few years ago when they were touring with Ministry.
The place looked a bit less shabby, with maybe even newly reupholstered leather couches in the performance hall. The same loungy feel prevailed and really, the same exact crowd remained: effeminate goth boys in corsets, burly goth guys in black t-shirts and shorts, combat boots and cowboy hats, catty cybergoth girls with mounds of multicolored falls and short pleather skirts, as well as the heavy-set mountains that needed careful examination of facial features before a gender could be established.
The show did not start at 7 30, but I was generally happy sitting around and people watching. Especially watching people who obeyed the sign “step on the carpet” taped to the bar under which a carpeted shape lay. We arrived there obscenely early and so watched as this guy got comfy in his rug-bag and awaited girls with high heels to walk over his scrotum. I tentatively balanced on him with my completely not-goth-like sneaker (feet still recovering from the previous night’s show at B.B.’s) and after feeling the intake of breath beneath my weight quickly got off, hoping he didn’t just do the same.
The Performance Hall was a spacious enough place, in length, and adequate for the costumed people lounging about. Huge speakers were attached absolutely everywhere as is fitting in a place that means to host industrial bands. In actual width though, it was little larger than a hall-way which negatively impacted the size of the stage.
The stage was minuscule and members of each band were pretty much on top of each other (check out the comments at the end of the article for why the stage situation sucked). This was the case with End of an Era, who were pretty decent even though they sounded like punk rockers dabbling in the industrial genre. More so, this was the case with The Living Dead, as the frontman was actually wearing what was in effect a metal mumu he was so immense.
My favorite live act of the night was Dark Eden. The guitarist was apparently studying for his bar exam (as we overheard later), and due to this unforgivable betrayal, the fragile frontman was forced to both sing and and play in between apologies for the overall suckiness of the performance. The bass player stuck to the one string she knew best, the drummer concentrated on her drums and somewhere in the back a pink-haired keyboardist hid behind his or her locks. Whatever the circumstances, no amount of black-lipsticked grins could hide that the singer couldn’t really sing, or wail or even growl and rage without sending people into apoplectic fits of giggling. OK, maybe it was just us, but seriously, Dark Eden was hilariously bad.
This article was supposed to be a review of last night’s show, but for whatever reason, the tuning of instruments that should have occurred sometime during the day instead took place in between each act, as well as in the middle of some sets (again, check the comments for why that happened). This meant that by 11 30 only the 3rd of possible six bands (the running order was not exactly stuck to since End of an Era wasn’t even on the flier) was in the midst of doing their thing. End result: we left the second we realized that Saints of Pain couldn’t figure out if they were going to give us powerful metal or whiney goth lyrics.
I’ll be back to this venue despite its shortcomings. We weren’t hassled at the door, the reentry policy was great and whoever was on security detail didn’t seem too concerned with getting in the way of a good time. Though, of course, it’s not like anyone was going to do anything more damaging than wiggle and hop about. It is, after all, a place where only the goth rages.
Let your angsty inner goth run free:
Disclaimer: this article was composed and posted purely on my eeepc, and we’re all about to find out what the combination of a tiny screen, really close-set keys and my no skill with Linux can accomplish. It’s too nice outside guys, I’m not going back to my PC if I can help it.