LIVE REVIEW: Death In Vegas at Irving Plaza, New York City
- Wilson Neate
The last track to be played over the PA before Death In Vegas (http://www.timebombrecordings.com/divhomea.html) took the stage last night was a gem from two decades ago -- "Nag, Nag, Nag" by those visionaries from Sheffield, Cabaret Voltaire. Contemplating the awesome technological arsenal piled up around the podium set up for Richard Fearless and Tim Holmes, I couldn't help but marvel at what Richard Kirk and Stephen Mallinder might have done if they'd had that kind of equipment at their disposal all those years ago, as opposed to the techno equivalent of "Pong" or 'space Invaders" with which they still managed to create primitive but foundational electronica.
But this is 1999 and Death In Vegas are touring the US on the heels of The Contino Sessions, the follow up to 1997's Dead Elvis. Released to almost unanimous critical acclaim -- and instantly touted as one of the best records of the year in the UK -- The Contino Sessions is a full-on rock and roll techno album for the millennium that wears its intertexts on its sleeve. The Velvet Underground, The Jesus and Mary Chain, The Stooges, Primal Scream, and a bit of Krautrock thrown in for good measure, all weave their way in and out of this collage of sounds. And given main-man Richard Fearless's alternative career as a visual artist, it's not really surprising that he should have brought his visual sensibility to bear on his aural endeavors to provide us with a taste of postmodern pop pastiche at its millennial best.
At New York's Irving Plaza, sporting a Johnny Cash t-shirt and enormous sunglasses quite possibly from the Burt Reynolds collection circa 1978, the auteur of The Contino Sessions enjoyed a leisurely evening. Walled in by banks of equipment, Fearless periodically twiddled a knob to make a theramin-like sound, but spent most of the night having a few beers and quite a few smokes, watching the visuals, flashing devil signs and generally basking in the limelight.
But who can blame him for kicking back and relishing the fruits of his labor?
And last night, in the live context, the labor wasn't so much divided but, rather, completely delegated onto others, as Fearless casually presided over an odd, on-stage class hierarchy. While he hung out -- being periodically reminded by Holmes to twiddle his knob -- his 8-man band toiled away diligently.
Well, almost. Members of the Primal Scream brass section, who are along for the ride on this tour, did a bit of work, but not a lot. They were onto a pretty good thing too, spending most of the time bouncing up and down, smoking and drinking their way through the rider, which must have included a couple of crates of Heineken.
Still, they did put down their beers and smokes long enough to play their horns and to occasionally push songs onward and upward to glorious, rousing conclusions, momentarily transforming Death In Vegas into the Scream itself.
But there was to be none of this dabbling, dilettante behavior among the rest of the workers, namely the two guitarists, bassist, keyboard player and drummer whose hard graft provided a stark contrast with the antics of the other yahoos.
While Fearless twiddled and Holmes twiddled some more and while the horn section polished off the Heineken, the proletariat -- decked out in austere, workmanly, matching black shirts and pants and looking more like Death In June circa 1982 than Death In Vegas -- unglamorously went about their business, sweating away to build up the very backbone of the sound that makes The Contino Sessions such an achievement.
Still, despite the lofty standards reached on record, delivering the goods live is another matter. Although Fearless and his cohorts did an admirable job and certainly did serve up helpings of intense, danceable brilliance, at times they seemed to take a while getting around to it.
To arrive at those moments, when things got really interesting we had to consistently wade with them through extended periods of plodding and lumbering that only marginally mar their otherwise fine album. Nevertheless, despite those passing, labored moments that characterize the beginning of "Dirge" -- especially live -- everything soon came together sufficiently and coalesced into throbbing, trancey textures that, in turn, provided a totally compelling preamble to the moments when the band crashed into total sonic overload.
Indeed, it has to be said that there's a sense of movement in those mutating, hypnotic build-ups that serve as preludes to DIV's chaotic flourishes, in stark contrast with the prog-rock noodling of Mogwai that just hangs there before they do their amusing quiet bit/loud bit routine, ad nauseam.
Anyone who read reports of Death In Vegas's gig at the Shepherd's Bush Empire in London a couple of weeks ago would agree that it sounded like a real corker with Jim Reid, Bobby Gillespie, Dot Allison and The London Community Gospel Choir all turning out for vocal duties, as they did on The Contino Sessions. And I'm sure a lot of punters were hoping for a similar, minor celebrity gala event at Irving Plaza. But it was not to be.
Instead of the real thing, at best we had karaoke-sounding, taped vocals on tracks like "Dirge" and "Aladdin's Story"; at worst, we were offered cardboard cut-outs of tracks, like "Aisha," barely recognizable given that Iggy's disturbing vocal stylings that carry and direct the song had been stripped down and reduced to a few taped yelps. This absence of vocals only underscored the labored sense of some of these songs that didn't completely work as instrumentals.
Still, while a couple of the newer tracks didn't quite live up to expectations live, older faves like "Dirt" kick-started the proceedings and had everyone jumping around again, flashing devil signs.
Also, the juxtaposition of programmed and live sound added a particularly compelling dimension, especially with the stand-off of man and machine-made drums. Rising to the challenge of technology, the drummer broke a stick within seconds of kicking in at the start of "Dirge," but after that held his own for the duration. Similarly, the live bass added even more depth to the awesome sampled thudding that was loud enough at times to dislodge loose dental work.
Minor quibbles aside, Death In Vegas do live just what they do on record: they embody the spirit of the best pop music of this last decade of the century, serving up a near perfect hybridization of the myriad trajectories of rock and electronic music.
