Sunday, March 19, 2006

Psytrance In The Voodoo/Trendies In Arran Sweaters.

Cobble StoneI had a Canadian staying over on irregular intevals for the past two weeks or so, with an indefatigable push of his will I found myself dragged along to the Cobblestone last Wednesday to wind down his last night in the country, in that most common of Irish cliches - the folk bar. Man I was shocked to see the Cobblestone packed to the rafters with an odd blend of American tourists seeking the real Ireland, a smattering of the usual suspect lefties, the barstool "RA-hiding scumbag" brigade, gaelgoirs a-go-go and what can only be described as an odd divergence from the Electric City/techno muso set look, who had pulled on an Arran sweater over a goatee and slap head look best exemplified by Moby. These were the folk revivalists, who hang around what is without doubt a regular night in the Cobblestone. Packed, packed, packed, no air to breath and a quick escape to the smoking section and fresh air the only reaction of the same. Wandering back inside and the place is boucing, the fiddles and accordians have been bagged away and out comes this crowd of Cork looking hippies, and world music types who are pounding away beats on a selection of bongo drums. The bongoloids and Irish folk. So obvious, but so unthought of. I'd never have imagined finding myself comparing Irish lilting to beat boxing with total random strangers, but there I was...

Lets push things forward, a contributer to IE-dance recently surmised psytrance as "all things that involve glow in the dark flecky crap." Someone else slightly more metaphorically minded identifyed the tendency of smaller sub-cultural adherants to go on an almost religious binge of proletysing sounds to all around in describing psytrance as the music equivalent of Scientology. Now there's a fine strain of breakcore jihad on this blog, but psytrance on the other hand has always struck me as a willfully moronic, regressive return to all that was probably worse about dance music, that daft leap forward in conciousness people associated with drug intake and worse again, the mental desire to fast forward it by laying out parties with all the design skills of a drunk five year old gee-eyed with the smell of magic markers and a fine set of day-glo poster paint to splash around on their mothers walls...

On Friday cue a mini rash of emails bickering back and forth after I haphazardly sent a mail in with the purpose of finding out what the hell was the randomness I stumbled into in the Voodoo Lounge while in pursuit of a party. It turns out the gig wasn't run by any of the usual psytrance pushers in the city (Neutronyx, Druid Circle, and Spud). It was an experimental "happening" created for an artist called Mark Q, called Propaganda and QPop, a "
synthetic electric nite of live wires based on Industrial sounds and installations visual projections" which meant scupltures made out of TV's with electro blimps pulsating through them in time with the electro tinged trance flowing out of the speakers, perfectly formed to allow that sort of robotic idiocy that accompanies E binged prone music, a repeatition of movement that bores me quite easily. All of this was some attempt to explore the connection between man and machine, with naked shop window dummies splayed across the stage and a dancer called Bandia in a skin thight glow in the dark lycra outfit with some sort of spiraling head flailing her arms wildly moving across the stage . There can be no excuse for the long hair DJ bloke, bedecked in a silver tracksuit, a black cut off shirt and some form of jump boots attached to him via silver masking tape. There was then a prog psy-trance set by Psy-AM (Walking with the Shaman/SPUD) followed by a live set of electro pop trance by Mark Q (QPop)."

Anyone who can do this to another wise staid TBMC deserves some degree of respect. Not my cup of tea, and probably something that was given a massive boost by the lapse in legislation around magic mushrooms not so long ago.



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