What sucks? MOVIE REMAKES!

What rules? NICK CAVE!

So, finding out that 18 foot tall Australian master of jangly post goth awesome is penning a new version of The Crow is somewhat confusing. On the one hand, do we really need another version of The Crow? Alright, it’s a decent enough movie, but then it did spawn the horrible habit of lanky, spotty, goth boys dressing in duct tape every halloween. And remakes are genetically predisposed to be horrible bags of toss.

But then, Nick Cave is writing it. And Nick Cave is known for not sucking at anything. The Proposition was a pretty cool movie. Both his books do that dirty southern gothic thing with the subtly that few can manage.  And all his music projects have ruled.

The combination of Cave and Crow  would also cause a goth critical mass that would suck anyone wearing an ankh into a very, very black hole. Which would be funny.

Ahhh, steampunk. If being a goth doesn’t get you enough fingers pointed at you, try out this sub sub genre involving alternate histories, victoriana and cogs. To be honest it holds its wonderfully geeky charms and has attracted enough people for a proper shindig in the Cross Kings in Kings Cross. As I am a big ol’ geek too, I’m there.

First band up are Savile Row, who haven’t played together in 10 years and are a guitarist down are a tight band, although more steam-indie than Steampunk, their sound (and their look) wouldn’t be out of place among the britpop scene, all jangly guitars and fun poppy sing along choruses. The addition of the rarely sighted female drummer (Seriously – you don’t see them very often) knocked them over the edge from pleasent into ace.

Next up was this years weirdest act so far – Robert Rankin’s goth wife playing hits of the 80s on a steel drum. I don’t think this needs a review. If you don’t think this is something worth seeing, then bugger off.

The fan favourites of the night, The Men Who Will Not Be Blamed For Nothing. Or The Men as I shall now call them as that takes too bloody long to type.

Featuring comedian Andrew O’Neill on vocals and guitar they are certainly not short on wordplay, humour and songs with instant sing-along-ability, they dominate the tiny venue and soon have the becorseted crowd dancing away. The only problem I have with them is that they are too funny. – If steampunk is to be taken as a moderately serious sub genre than bands who are more joke project than legitimate entity then The Men could hamper that by being too popular and making the face of Steampunk a big dumb grin rather than a frowny bugger in a monocle.

The headliners are the absolutely Poe faced Ghostfire. No jokes here, just steam scented goth-a-rockin.

Steampunk is all about a past that never happened, and is only imagined. Ghostfire look like a band with an imagined past. They really do look like a faded goth band who would have been huge in the 80s. Singer Mister E and guitarist Andii look like they could have been the Goth power couple in 1985 dominating the lives and eye-liner collection of a generation of angsty adolescents. The thing is, as far as I know Ghostfire have only been around since last year, so their past is only imagined, which I feel make them more romantic and mysterious. But maybe that’s just me.

Anyway, they act like they’re headlining Wembley, which is the correct way to act when on a stage barely big enough for the band, acting like a rockstar is 90% of being one after all – stage moves and arrogant banter abounds between the excellently jangly songs.

All in all, a triumph for Brit-Steampunk. The kids into it may still get called names, but with this lot on their iPod I really doubt they’ll hear it, or care.

Faded, one-trick embarrassment Marilyn Manson has, it seems morphed into an angry fourteen year old kid, under attack from the jocks in school.

Blogging on his MySpace page (which is already funny), he has threatened to kill any journalists who fabricate any stories about him. The ’soon-to-be-murdered-in-their-home press’ are obviously quaking in their boots at the though of an overweight has-been and his legions (around seventeen at last count) of outcast children calling at their door. His threat is quite specific..

But if one more “journalist” makes a cavalier statement about me and my band, I will personally or with my fans help, greet them at their home and discover just how much they believe in their freedom of speech. I dare you all to write one more thing that you won’t say to my face. Because I will make you say it. In that manner. That is a threat.

I’m quite interested in seeing if Mr Manson will uphold his threat. So:

• Marilyn Manson smells like kippers!
• Marilyn Manson has eleven toes!
• Marilyn Manson watches ‘Ferngully – The Last Rainforest’ every single day!
• Marilyn Manson’s real name is Wankbar Twattychops!
• Marilyn Manson has an actual physical penis attached to the back of his head!

Any more Marilyn Manson facts?

Get to the comments!

Not the best CD cover I've ever seen...

As the weather turns ever colder and the nights ever darker, it seems only fitting that we get round to covering some Goth on DownTuned, and they don’t come much Gothier than London’s (And formerly Warsaw’s) Higher Love.

While The Cure are the obvious touchstone throughout this demo, there are touches of U2 (Especially in the twangy, hangy guitar lines) and Joy Division to be had, and at least a faint glimmer of perrenial underdogs London After Midnight and some very early (Read: very odd) Human League. There’s certainly a very 80s vibe going on, and the heavily accented vocals actually help add to the generally vampiric atmosphere at times, putting me in mind of Outcast (not the “Hey-Yah!” Andre 3000 ones…), and this has the potential to be a major selling point for the band, if only they weren’t quite so po-faced (Or possibly “Poe” faced?) about it all. Goth, while being deadly serious, is also an inherently ridiculous form, and it’s best practitioners know and play on this.  This failing is unfortunately particularly apparent on “Do You Talk About Love”, where amatuerish production and deadly seriousness combine to create humour for all the wrong reasons.

Fortunately things pick up on closer “Piece of Mind” which doesn’t just steal it’s title from Iron Maiden, with a nice “Remember Tomorrow”-esque opening riff which unfortunately then fails to go anywhere. This is a major stumbling block for the band, as a lot of the time songs noodle along as if waiting to burst into action. While this could be used to create a sense of impending dirge-like dread, here it just leaves the impression of choruses hunting for a song to join.

Overall a touch more pomp and cicumstance wouldn’t go amiss here, as songs are a little short and the aforementioned production needs some serious beefing up. If they get it right, then they could easily hang out in the graveyard with Moonspell.

Higher Love on MySpace