An acquaintance recently paid 2531$ — that’s $3278AUD — for
the privilege of meeting Metallica and scoring a front-row seat. I can’t say I’d
pay that much to meet my idol, but to each their own I guess.
The concept of the pre-show VIP meet and greet is, when you
think about it, an odd one. A disparate group of fans who have never met each other pay a
premium to spend a short time with an artist who in all likelihood is hideously
sleep-deprived and who almost certainly doesn’t know the first thing about any
of the people who paid money for the intimate time together.
What usually occurs in these situations is this: most of the
fans are either overwhelmingly polite, shy, or in some way in awe of the person
they’ve come to see. While in a few rare cases you do get a boisterous douche
mouth fan, it’s a fact that in most scenarios all eyes are on the artist. As a
fan you don’t want to inadvertently be a dick by drawing the
wrong kind of attention onto yourself by uttering something embarrassing or
inappropriate. So you bite your tongue. The result is an almost enforced air of
silence inside the room.
The onus, therefore, is on the artist to entice their fans
out of their comfort zone.
Given the appalling
state of music industry revenue for artists, VIP meet and greets are practically
an integral part of touring. Indeed, a good touring artist knows how to talk to
giddy or nervous (and quite often, very drunk) fans while maintaining a down-to-earth
and fun persona. The artist is essentially a ‘host’ to a group of strangers
doing something very far out of their comfort zone.
I imagine it’s hard work. Certainly, it’s something I would struggle
to do, if somehow I became an even moderately successful touring act.
VIP meeting Joe Letz from
Combichrist
VIP encounter with Combichrist drummer Joe Letz in a meet and greet.
Thus it was that a mate and I paid for a pre-show VIP
package to meet and greet Combichrist drummer Joe Letz prior to his Incursion DJ gig in Melbourne.
As it turned out, initially all the observations above about
the intricacies and awkwardness of a meet and greet turned out to be true. While
I had the security blanket of attending with a familiar buddy, I had never seen
Joe perform, so I was curious as to how this close and intimate experience
would pan out.
Turns out, part of the ‘experience’ was a stroke of genius.
In fact, it’s something I would recommend to anyone considering a meet and
greet — a game of Cards Against
Humanity.
I’m a huge fan of board games at social occasions for the
simple reason that they work wonders in bringing people together. Now apply that
to a group of strangers meeting someone ‘famous’ and you’ve given them a genuinely
non-awkward reason to interact. And with Cards Against Humanity you get the
added bonus that the interaction is replete with unspeakable revelations about
people’s true character.
Basically, it’s the ideal ice breaker.
The look of concentration could kill a small rodent.
Pic: Kierra Thorn.
Our game went for an hour, and when our time came to an end
and concluded with the mandatory poster signing and photo op, I came away with
enough tour stories to write my own EBM industrial draft equivalent to This Is Spinal Tap.
There were glimpses of the tour shenanigans with Rammstein.
There was fascinating insight into the causes and consequences of falling
asleep in the tour bus toilet cubicle — or at an international airport. And
best of all, we learnt about the vital importance of always having your own
toilet paper on tour.
Towards the end of the night I realised I’d been telling
people about how I’d gotten to VIP meet and greet Joe. Allegedly, he was
operating on less than two hours of sleep after he’d flown in the night before from
Brisbane (1300km away), he didn’t drink, and he was quite lovely to be around as he
hosted a bunch of nervous strangers to a game of Cards Against Humanity.
And his set was great too. I’ve waited almost a decade to
hear the Scooter
remix of Rammstein’s Pussy in a club. So that life mission accomplished. The epic
cheese glory of that track defies description. You need it in your life.
But yeah.
We also found out that it's vital to keep an eye out on your toilet paper when you're on tour.
“Someone stole my toilet paper!” exclaimed Joe.
The new album from Combichrist – We Love You, has been on super high rotation this past fortnight. Combichrist album number seven is the latest addition to the Combichrist
discography and I can tell you, hands down, this release has re-invigorated my
love for this band. It’s also sparked renewed personal interest in EBM,
industrial, aggrotech and whatever else the kids call it these days.
According to my LastFM stats I played Combichrist 264 times in one week. That’s because I’m one of
those people who just loves to quantify their favourite music. However, not
everyone loves the We Love You album.
I’ve had fierce debates with friends about this album’s merits, and
predictably there has been no shortage of naysayers on the internet.
If it’s a matter of personal taste then that’s cool by me. However,
I’m not convinced that many of the complaints that I’ve heard about the We Love You album are entirely legitimate.
Here are several reason why Combichrist: We Love You rocks out.
IT HAS GUITARS!?
What’s that? The new Combichrist album has *God forbid*
guitars!? Aha! This must be a sign that they’re suffering from an identity
crisis. No doubt those Rammstein guys had something to do with it on that world
tour they did together, leading Combichrist away from the path of holy electro synth EBM
purity.
Yes, the We Love You
album has plenty of guitars. They’re not subtly ‘integrated’ either, buried
behind the synths and other layers as many terror banana artists have been
known to do. These are full, shred-driven tracks with minimal electronics.
And apparently that’s not allowed, if the great number of
complaints about the guitars are an indicator.
You know who else played exclusively with either guitars or
synths — and was then famously praised for doing a complete about face? How
about Ulver. Ministry. Trent Reznor. Or if you want to dig deeply, how about
that most revered of techno, acid house and Belgian New Beat producers, Praga
Khan, the brains behind Lords Of Acid?
If you stopped enjoying industrial music when Throbbing
Gristle stopped using tape loops, well that’s your right. But I just don’t buy
the argument from the EBM police that the inclusion of prominent guitars
automatically detracts from the Combichrist or EBM industrial aggrotech identity,
or whatever the hell ‘it’ is.
You know where the name Combichrist came from? From
a zine, published during Andy LaPlegua’s punk days. You know, when he was the
vocalist for a punk band? A band that played those dirty, stinking,
non-EBM-industrial guitars.
But let’s just say that if the We Love You Album did focus exclusively on synths, it raises the
question of…
WHAT ELSE WAS SUPPOSED TO GO ON THE ALBUM?
I’m going to have a hard time supporting this bit of my
argument, so here goes.
To be an artist who releases multiple albums is to walk the
path of a moral dilemma.
That’s because when you release your first album, the second album
better be different to the first one — but not too different, mind you. If you
don’t change it enough, you’re stagnating. If you change too much, you annoy those
fans who were there ‘from the beginning’.
The old adage that you can please all the people some of the
time, and some of the people all the time, but never all of the people all of
the time, rings true here (see people's listening habits below as to how widespread this is). You tread an ever-changing, nebulous line because no
matter what you do, according to someone, somewhere on the internet you’ll always
be wrong.
Combichrist listening stats according to LastFM. As you can tell, everyone has their favourite (the ones with the hearts are my personal ones).
There are 13 tracks of varying lengths on the We Love You album. Three and a half
tracks are primarily guitar-based: The
Evil In Me, Love Is A Razorblade,
Retreat Hell Pt. 1 and half of Retreat Hell Pt. 2 (half of this track
is dodgy ‘ambient’ recording of some sort mixed with other sounds).
The remaining three quarters of the album is solid, comfortably
familiar, electronic, synth-driven tracks, with either minimal guitars or none
at all.
And that is the point that I think has been lost in
translation. There’s very little filler (save for the stuffing around on the last
track) on We Love You. There are half
a dozen tracks of pure unadulterated electronic fun, plus a couple of toned
down or more average ones. For me, the rest of the album just doesn’t feel like
it’s packed with that all-too-common affliction found on so many electronic
albums in this genre — filler.
Let’s face a fact: critically acclaimed electronic albums
where 100 per cent of all the compositions are certified genius just don’t come
round that often. Unless you’re Kraftwerk or Giorgio Moroder, fans are not
going to drop to their knees at the mention of every track on even your very
best full-length effort. In fact, even a very good album will still have the
trusted standout tracks, which of course means there will be all those other
lesser well known (stand in? sit in?) tracks. These selections will inevitably
be thought of by many as filler, by virtue of the fact that they’re not soul-touchingly
awesome like the standouts.
On We Love You, a
brave attempt was made to do something genuinely left-of-centre with the tracks
that aren’t barn-stormers. The exercise happens to involve guitars and it
presents a new dimension. And it’s still Combichrist.
But you know what? Even if you’re still not convinced of the
merits of the We Love You album due
to the mere presence of a couple of stringed instruments, this doesn’t change
the fact that…
THE ELECTRONIC TRACKS STILL ROCK
The pre-album single, From
My Cold Dead Hands may not be the most memorable track, but I assure you it
grows on you. I know this, because I bought the single and didn’t think too
much of it at first. Repeated listens changed that.
I also had the privilege of being the first person to play a
legitimate copy of this song at a club down here in Melbourne. It worked, and
by that I mean it did everything you expect of a dancefloor track: it was fun,
it got people moving and dancing, and I'm sure it would become a recognised and satisfying floor filler if it got played enough.
As for the album proper, there are no shortage of tracks
which you'll instantly recognise, from the moment you hear them, for what they're meant to be: club
hits like We Rule The World Motherfuckers
and Every Day Is War. They are pure
Combichrist, electronic anthem action, dancefloor assault fodder of the best kind,
designed and built to honestly do one thing: rock out and dance your arse off.
The track Maggots At
The Party ticks every one of those boxes, which makes it in my view everything that is great about
this band.
Combichrist: Maggots At The Party
I could tell you how much I love this song but I think I’ll
just repeat the YouTube comment I left instead (when I was in an admittedly
excited state).
“Andy has absolutely nailed
it on this track. A massive head banging sound. High-larious non-sensical
lyrics. And a vibe that's dripping with tongue-in-cheek hedonism. The party on
this track rocks so hard, if it were capable of being any more fun it'd cause
cardiac arrests.”
Maggots At The Party is another Electrohead or This Shit Will
Fcuk You Up. It’s unashamedly meant to be an anthem, a sing-a-along, a
booty shaker and headbanger. Yet I’ve heard all sorts of criticisms, from the
fact that the lead synth sounds suspiciously like a guitar to the lack of depth
to the lyrics.
Which is all well and good I suppose, assuming one crucial
thing is overlooked when it comes to Combichrist, namely…
IT’S ALL ABOUT HAVING FUN
It still astounds me when I hear complaints about
Combichrist lyrics. Notwithstanding the fact that English ain’t Andy LaPlegua’s
first language, the mere fact that anyone would search for deeper significance
in Combichrist lyrics suggests that something in the listener’s life is being
taken rather too seriously.
Combichrist has always been about partying and hedonism and
rocking out. About drinking and getting wasted. About repetitive choruses. Inane statements. But always topped in thick layers
of fatalism. Party-fatalism if you may.
If you’re searching for profound and sentimental meaning in EBM
industrial lyrics, you should follow VNV Nation and Stromkern (or for unintentionally
hilarious lyrics, Centhron and Funker Vogt rarely disappoint).
Indeed, Combichrist lyrics are a common target for the
band’s detractors. One could go on and on about how this accusation — as much
as it is a valid indictment of a Norwegian man’s lesser grasp of English
expression and syntax — is simply barking up the wrong tree. Instead of saying
that guitars are not what Combichrist is about, the charge should be that
“serious” is not what Combichrist is about.
As I said, there’s a lot to be said here. So instead I’ll let the
following example speak for itself.
Firstly, watch this video. Or at least watch half of it.
Bear with me, I assure you this is entirely relevant.
This track is called Treat
Me Like A Pirate by hip hop crew Turquoise Jeep. They became popular after
releasing some pretty funny videos on YouTube, albeit in the so-bad-it’s-good
category. One of their videos has been viewed more than 10,000,000 times. And
who could argue, what with lyrics like the following?
“Treat me like a pirate”
“And give me that booty”
“Got my long sword not to kill but to pleasure”
“Deep sea diving, searching for her treasure”
Now, below is a Combichrist live video (shot on someone’s
phone?) when the crew were finishing their recent US tour. If you CBF watching,
it’s Combichrist making a surprise introduction of the Turquoise Jeep crew on stage — where they perform Treat Me Like A Pirate together.
At a Combichrist concert.
Apart from being a great rendition, this moment says more to
me than anything else about just where this band is at — and where their fans
should be at. The EBM police would be outraged!
In conclusion, there’s a lot to love about the We Love You album. Yes, there were many
who were shocked by the inclusion of guitars, and this has elicited many mixed
feelings.
It’s radically different (I’m not counting the No Redemption soundtrack as a spiritual
predecessor — it was a soundtrack commissioned for a video game and it was
created for a very specific context).
Maybe if you love both electronic and analogue music (i.e.
synths and guitar) you’ll get it. Or maybe you’ll like it regardless. Whatever
the case, the changes on We Love You
are a brave move for which Andy LaPlegua is to be applauded.
I once posted how one of the problems with getting older is
that it’s so much harder to get
excited about new music. This is most likely as much due to biological
reasons — the brain physically gets more set in its ways — as it is due to the
inevitable fact that your favourite band or genre was always at its peak when
you first fell in love with it.
That makes me something of a cynic when it comes to new
music. And this old cynic has not been this excited about a new album in a very long time.
If you’re not enjoying the We Love You album then it’s possible you have an allergy to fun.
Now all Combichrist need to do is come back to Australia and
rock out.
If they still do it, I'm even looking forward to one of those VIP pizza nights they do before the show.
They should call it... Maggots At The Pizza Party! See what I did there?
There are a couple of reasons why I bought this seven-inch from death metal old schoolers Morbid Angel, but none of them have anything to do with me liking Morbid Angel. I’m hardly a fan and I don’t own any of their albums.
The fact is, I love gimmicks in music, for the same reason that many people hate them. They’re one of the reasons I love industrial music, and by that I mean I love the way a generic electronic composition that’s indistinguishable from thousands like it can instantly become more interesting and noticeable (and in some cases a majordancefloorhit) by the simple addition of cleverly placed samples. They’re the icing that makes generic tracks on an album stand out because of that kooky cover track, or the wooden CD case or leather record sleeve.
But neither of these qualities are present in this release. I bought it simply because it has a remix from one of my favourite electronic artists, Combichrist. In this case, a track titled Destructos vs The Earth.
Not their best work apparently.
Now Combichrist is best known for being quite a successful industrial duff artists. As far as the underground sees it, Combichrist is even considered relatively commercial — the Manowar of the industrial scene, I once saw him called.
Personally, I love Combichrist because the music is oh so fun, awesome to dance to, hard hitting — and kinda gimmicky. Keeping in mind of course, because sometimes it’s too easy to forget, that compared to mainstream music that still sells, it’s still considered unlistenable noise…
Anyway, the thing that grabbed me about this release was not the Morbid Angel connection. The album from which this single comes from, Illud Divinum Insanus, was panned when it came out and as I said, I’ve just never been much of a fan. It was the remix of the track and the accompanying fan-made video circulating on the web that first got me, if only because I thought the song was so fantastically awful. It was so bad, I thought, that it couldn’t possibly be a ‘serious’ (even by Combichrist tongue in cheek standards) kind of release. But it was.
In true interwebs fashion, the fan-made junk video was way funnier, better and weirdly accurate — certainly far more than anything a producer with a budget for such a relatively small artist would typically make.
And from there it grew on me. Considerably, in fact, until I ended up ordering it. Even so, the record came with a free Morbid Angel patch which I declined to sew onto my otherwise very full heavy metal battle jacket. I may like gimmicks but I draw the line somewhere and that line is an album like Illud Divinum Insanus.
Icon Of Coil (IoC), if you hadn’t heard of them, were something of a big deal some years ago in the goth industrial world.
A brief history of the band goes something like this. They were founded in 1997 by front-man Andy LaPlegua (fact: his real name is Ole Anders Olsen). They eventually became a three-piece and released three influential EBM-duff albums: Serenity Is The Devil in 2000, The Soul Is In The Software in 2002, and Machines Are Us in 2004. In 2005 they released a remix album, after which things became real quiet.
The inactivity had a lot to do with the fact that Andy LaPlegua was rapidly becoming fabulously successful doing his Combichrist solo project — while somehow still finding the time to release some excellent music as Scandy (the only Scandy full-length, 13 Ways To Masturbate, is one of my favourite electronic albums) and Panzer AG.
The other two members of IoC also dabbled in various projects. Sebastian Komor produced music under half a dozen or so project monikers including Melt, Squarehead, Zombie Girl, Monofader, and Komor Kommando. Unfortunately, he just never quite seemed able to land the same recognition or commercial success as his counterpart. The third member, Christian Lund, eventually began making music as NorthBorne, an obscure little bleepy project that seems to have a small but strong cult following.
So for a while there it looked like IoC was finished and their exceptionally catchy and danceable music seemed destined for obscurity and nostalgia. Back in the day there was hardly a goth industrial player-of-other-people’s-music who didn’t at the very least have the better known IoC tunes in their collection. But no more. Die-hard fans had their worst fears confirmed when in 2006 the band re-issued their three albums.
Jump forward a few years and IoC are unexpectedly back together for a show or two. A few shows turned into a few more shows which turned into a tour, which is how I found myself seeing the re-formed band on the Australian “Halloween 2011” tour, the line-up also comprising Komor Kommando and Northborne. So began my night at the Hi-Fi Bar & Ballroom, but not before we got to experience record quantities of Melbourne rain on our way into town, a meteorological phenomenon that would “dampen” attendance for the night.
Getting started
Christian Lund was first on the bill with the quirky and repetitive bleepishness that is NorthBorne. Bedecked in a hoodie and vague terrorist-like mask he seemed very energetic despite the venue’s general lack of punters. Thankfully, a few die-hards were having a boogie at the front, which seemed to keep him motivated. I’m not a muso but I can imagine that nothing would suck more than playing a large-ish venue to an empty floor.
More people filtered in by the time Komor Kommando started but it soon became apparent that this was going to be one of “those” gigs — a small crowd (I’m told final attendance was just 100 in a venue with a capacity of around 900) but one hopefully bursting with appreciation. In my experience these sorts of gigs can go either way because the small crowd can result in a show that is fantastically intimate and awesome… or plain embarrassing for all involved. I would find out shortly…
Sebastian Komor’s show turned out to be the biggest surprise for the night. As with NorthBorne, I was surprised by a vocal and highly enthusiastic element in the crowd. “These peope are in the know,” I thought to myself. “Good on ’em.” But as he kept playing I really felt that this was going to be unexpectedly special. My personal “wow” moment arrived when I felt the first spectacularly cheesy strains of what I thought for a moment was an Ennio Morricone cowboy anthem.
“This is his interpretation of every corny Western film ever made, complete with gunshots and horse noises,” a good friend informed me as it really got going. And boy was he right. The tune (Hasta Luego — below) single-handedly made my night. I’ve never heard anything so ridiculously cheesy, catchy and funny-epic and it’s been on repeat ever since — much to the annoyance of my fiancée.
Having said that, I’m less sure if his tongue-in-cheek attempt to “resonate” with the Aussie crowd by looping AC/DC went down so well. Personally I loved its awful tastelessness, but I just didn’t see it going off for some of the more “serious” punters. This ochre block of true blue Aussie rock did, however, gave rise to my favourite line for the night, and one which I would be repeating during the lulls between songs for the rest of the night (again, much to the annoyance of the “serious” attendees). “Play some fucken Barnsey!”
Incidentally, at a similar gig some weeks later I would have this party trick backfire on me when the singer, in all seriousness, yelled back: “What? Play something bouncy?”
Icon Of Coil
The highlight of the evening was naturally going to be the main serving comprising all three members doing their thing. Front-man Andy did an excellent job of working the crowd and basically being very imposing, but even so, the performance wasn’t the sheer aggression and hateful craziness of the two Combichrist gigs that I’d seen in years past. Instead, he came across more as the singer in a cohesive unit, albeit one made up of guys playing pre-recorded music on synthesisers and laptops. Of course, one of the downsides to having all your music sequenced is that when the house audio controls go down unexpectedly, your entire performance disappears with it. In mid chorus there was an odd pop whereupon everything went dead. “Welcome to Australia,” cam the immediate response from crowd.
Thankfully, this technical issue got sorted quickly and it was on with the show. As I mentioned before, back in the day just about every industrial DJ carried a good number of IoC tunes in their repertoire, the reason being of course that this band was responsible for releasing so many great songs. Sadly, one of the things about a band not being in your face all the time and fading into nostalgia is that you’re more likely to forget what made them great in the first place. My logic is that a band that releases rubbish at least reminds you of the good old days when they were still releasing quality. I think the effect of the evening was succinctly summarised by my good friend Abby, a massive fan from way back and also the person who kindly provided the photos in this post.
“What did you think?” I asked in my croakiest post-cheering-til-I’m-hoarse voice.
“You know, I love Icon Of Coil, but I forgot just how many great songs they had. It just kept going and going. It was awesome!”
It certainly was. And it was a heck of a lot more than mere nostalgia. The small but exceptionally enthusiastic crowd did its best to ensure that this evening would be a top night. Plus that extra room on the floor left plenty of space for all to dance their arses off.
Now if only Andy LaPlegua would revive Scandy. That’d be brilliant. Or at least get back to making another decent Combichrist album.
And finally: a word on musicians…
What is it about musicians and their capacity to be so exceedingly harsh to their own kind? Maybe it’s just me, but it seems to be a particularly prevalent phenomenon when someone becomes commercially successful in what was previously a small pond. Or maybe it’s just the good old fashioned Aussie tall poppy syndrome?
The goth industrial world and the success of Combichrist is a typical example. There’s a reason why the inlay notes to the Get Your Body Beat EP — the first release to follow Combichrist’s first commercial-breakthrough, Everybody Hates You— contained the words “With success comes bitching.”
Two comments from people I talked to on the night really stuck with me, both of them from seasoned musicians.
One was from a talented young chap who listens to a lot of harsher, twisted electronics. He’s a lovely bloke who takes his music producing very seriously and I genuinely hope that one of these days he can take credit for one of his own breakthrough releases. “I’m only here to see NorthBorne and Komor Kommando,” he announced to me. “Fair enough,” I thought, seeing as IoC is not everyone’s cup of tea. “Will you be leaving straight after Komor Kommando then,” I asked innocently.
Oh of course not, was the reply, and I left it at that. But I had to wonder why someone felt the urge to go out of their way to make it clear to me that they weren’t here for the main attraction? What’s the objective there? I don’t know.
The other comment was from a seasoned musician with a load of projects and quite a few gigs under his belt. I explained to him how awesomely bad and brilliantly cheesy and catchy Komor’s previously mentioned Hasta Luego track was.
“It just goes to show,” he said. “You can have the shittest song but people will still like it if you get the layers just right.” I was tempted to disagree but again I left it at that. What makes a good song, I wondered? If the effect of a song is that it’s enjoyable and good fun, does it really matter how it’s produced?
Fun is why we listen to this music and why we dance to it. Fun is why some people take the time and effort to produce it. Fun doesn’t have to be complex or inaccessible or take time to develop. Fun should be just that — fun. Let’s not forget that.
