“Every house wife is a threat but it hasn’t happened yet” David Bowie – Queen Kong

“Sometimes these poor souls live out their days without ever finding the slightest remedy. Other times the remedy that they find kills them.” Detox Diary – Jean Cocteau

If rock and roll is about anything it’s about threat. OK fool - stop your fool talking –there was nothing ever even vaguely threatenin’ about rock and roll.

Fine lets start again…

If rock and roll is about anything it’s about a pose. Somewhere between glitz, glamour and a partially unfolding, badly concealed long term death wish lies the romance of it. Now it’s good that things have got DIY and its good that things have been democratized and that so many people can have a go…But lets face it…There’s so many bands out there now just stuffed into their jeans and tee shirts that look like work men leaning on their shovels. They seem so sheepish and ironic.

They look so worried. How did they grow up? Didn’t they have tennis rackets? Were there mirrors in de gaff? Did mums have no make up to rob!?!? They don’t even seem to wanna be stars any more!! Who saw that mentalist film/documentary from last year: Dig? Remember that scene. The Dandy Warhol’s – those limpid mammy’s boys n gurls still can’t figure out how to manufacture their threat. But what they can figure out is how to go down to the remains of a party hosted by the insanoes of the Brian Jonestown Massacre…and then steal it!.

And there they are Dick, Dora and Jane – (or whatever the fuck they’re called) creeping around with camera crews in train. Inside are to be seen Anton and his dissolving wreck of a band dying on couches with needles stickin’ out of their arms..and the Dandys all creep in with cameras. “lets do the photo shoot here” say the bright eyed sticky fingered scions of the suburbs…we wanna be famous but we lack it ….soooooooooo… lets STEAL it. We can thief their rock and roll – lets rub it into ourselves maybe some of it will stick!!!

So they, at least, got to first base. They know there’s something you need.

The Coldspoon Conspiracy, on the evidence of this gig, haven’t even made this conceptual leap. Looked to me like low key Rednecks Copyists – maybe I’m being entirely unfair. It was the Lower Deck – it was free – I was wrecked. Captain Moonlight that other night in Bohs – no one raps booze like him – “now we’re hurlin” I hadn’t (hurled yet) but stomach was nervy…Any how the word “free” had worked its magic allure. Maybe The Coldspoon Conspiracy were OK. Actually they were and then the guy started to sing – aw jaysus its just a mess, no leave it, feck it, put a full stop on it, bring it to a halt – there it is …stopped.

Twice for good luck - Full fecking STOP.

Then Betamax stepped up. Now this is what I’m talking about. Anyone can swagger in the Point Depot, swish in the Olympia, maybe even wiggle a bit in the Music Centre. But I first saw these guys come out a play to 20 or so beard stroking musos on a piece of four by four in lazybird in the international supported by 2 guitars eating each other on a table (or some such experimental thingy anyway)…but they still looked like they had just come back from supporting David fucking Bowie. No wait they looked like he supported them. They looked like they owned the world.

No change tonight either. Almost like a shower of slightly aging but still pretty hot rocker toy boys or Ladytron if they were all male. And the debate rages long into the night – Whose you’re favourite? Its the Spice Girls thing all over – take em out all night dress them up etc etc – the ladies love it maybe a lot of the lads too? What, songs? – you want songs too. Yeah they have a pretty good belting power pop robo voiced synth rock style and they look the part – rock n roll…That tune xxx robot is it? Punk disco is it? – Why not? – spiky, destructive – well good.

Who else played? – Oak. Not quite poseurs but they threw some nice longhaired metal shapes and they generated a monster Sabbath style sea of riff. I liked them – maybe not quite as much to my taste as those glamorous video tape formats but top quality throughout and greatly appreciated by the moshers up front.

This brings me to gig two. Back at the afore mentioned Lazybird where the chin strokers had decided to turf out the drone and dabble a bit in the confused magic of glam punk. What is going on where is this shit coming from? – 2 bands in one night both with syn-drums – magic sit back and drool – I did.

First up The Retards – billing themselves as synth pop nihilists they proved easy to enjoy and impossible to categorize. You want poses – the balaclava is back yeah! Not since the heady dayze of TD terrorist have I see this dodgy move go down on a Dublin stage. But top marks for trying. The music was stunning – some where between Big Black and the Boredoms with a lot of industrial thrown in – raw, rawkus and percussive it wrung cautious nods from the musos…OK they where head banging by the end…

And then Queen Kong. What ever it is the Dandys searched for in that dodgy house party aftermath these guys have growing out of their heads like cabbage. They pose like there is no tomorrow. Missy out front is a dreamy teen aged night mare - with that 1982 Clare Grogan shockative (word tm Clare 2006 – all rights reserved) bleached blonde hair, bright blue eye shadow and black boots. The guitarist favours fishnet uppers and leopard skin leggings, one of the boys rips off his top – oh oh slightly misshapen never mind who are we to talk? – But feck they are posturing, pouting – they have lipstick– oh look what’s written on his guitar? –“rock star”…But its not just vogueing they have songs too and miss minx can siiiing and screaaaam (she demonstrated it maybe too often) – In fact she has an extraordinary voice. They have a sparkling, noisy power pop sound that could scoop up those rinky dink hoes sometimes known as The Chalets and leave them in the mickey mouse place – for ever. Watch out Queen Kong is coming!! They call them selves synth pop deconstructionists and they will be sweetly and spicily fucking things up. Many years ago I saw a music journalist waste the image of a “scud missile with an angel delight warhead” on some useless shower of fops. OK let’s reclaim this metaphor of mass seduction - here’s a crowd that will fit it like a glove!

KONG!

Labels: Ballroom of Romance, Gig Review, Guest Blogger, Krossie