Event : Psychic TV, Genesis P Orridge, Alex Fergusson, Master Musicians Of Joujouka, Thee Majesty, ?The Mysterions, Scanner, Thee Headcoates,Quentin Crisp
Location : ROYAL FESTIVAL HALL, LONDON
Date : 1 / 05 / 99
Reviewed by : Clive Subculture
What a line up. For lovers of the obscure, the weird and the 'out there', this event proved to be a veritable feast of strangitude, and a triumph for the right to 'be different' in the face of social conformity. 10 years after his enforced exile from these 'merry shores' Genesis returns to Blighty, with an entourage to kick the arse of normality, and hopefully transport us out of the 'stone-age', but more of this later...
Scanner noodles as the hall begins to fill; his ambient / industrial soup is surprisingly soothing, and achieves a round of applause, to which he bows.
His Royal Highness Quentin Crisp then appears via satellite link on a huge screen at the back of the stage, thanks 'Mr. Scanner', announces the first band, and informs us that "music is the most amount of noise containing the least amount of information" before perennial garage punks Thee Headcoates launch the evenings entertainment with their blunted three chord racket - obviously they are complete masters of their art, lead man Billy Childish has probably released more albums and played more gigs than most people in the world. 'Troubled Mind' is perhaps the high point, but the later addition of the all-female Headcoatees spices up the formula and mutates the band into a rawer version of the B-52s. They play through their own ancient P.A. speakers to achieve that authentic garage growl.
This event is subtitled TIMES UP, and is possibly an experiment in warping our concept of TIME by filling it with as much sensory stimulation as possible in a 5 hour period. Next up are 'legendary' rock band ?The Mysterions who groove in a rocket fuelled LA boogie kind of way. Singer '?' was way ahead of 'The Artist' when he named himself and
is resplendent in spandex and Stetson, leaping around the stage. In some ways it's a bit too 'rock' and many of us retreat to the bar. Scanner provides another interlude before QC reappears and announces to massive applause his "very Dear Friend, Genesis P Orridge".
Suited, and sporting an immaculate Brian Jones style mop haircut, Genesis walks on, clutching his notes, for the performance by Thee Majesty - the new project. "I'm back" he announces, "and it feels strange to be back in England - I bet you all feel strange to be in England too" - he relishes every word, drawing out the syllables for maximum effect " you were all right". Hounded out of the UK after the 'Dispatches' TV show investigated the 'seedy' world of performance artists / Satanists including P Orridge & PTV. Tonight we are testing the waters of the 'New Labour, New Liberalism' after the Dark Ages of totalitarian, rabid Toryism were chucked in the political dustbin on May 1st 1997. Genesis rambles on talking to the crowd in a camped up manner - and is persistently heckled by some guy at the back of the auditorium to 'Get on with it". " I've been doing this for 30 years" GPO replies, "and you know what, I am going to take my fucking time." Which he does, with agonising slowness.
For 'Thee Majesty' he is joined by Larry Thrasher on electronics and a man in monks robes called Richard who tortures something which resembles a guitar with a ceremonial knife. On the screen behind a red palatial room glows extravagantly, as psychedelic imagery floats past its windows. They perform essentially spoken word pieces with minimal instrumentation, P Orridges hypnotic voice, mantra - like is captivating, the words often childlike. In the gaps between tracks he engages in inter-crowd banter - "get 'em off" yells a woman at the front. " Do you know how many people have seen my penis?" he replies - "it's terrifying: not the penis of course" he adds. "I'm very funny you know". He is. In fact the audience spend a lot of tonight laughing. What are authorities and the censors afraid of - music & art? Or "naughty boys" like GPO; people with genuine charisma, who don't fit into the conformist mould and influence the Underground, the 'youth culture' - as he, Throbbing Gristle and PTV have done extensively. He 'loves words' he tells us, and tonight has the opportunity to 'say exactly what he thinks, and to be as ridiculous as he wants to be'.
Next up are the Master Musicians - '4000 year old rock n roll band', enactors of the original fertility 'Rites of Pan'and purveyors of primal trance music which makes the whole techno - trance scene appear somewhat flat in comparison. The horns / pipes which start their set rise to a tone which seems to resonate inside your head, and the surging refrain that follows is unmistakable - you can see why counterculture icons such as Brion Gysin, William Burroughs and Brian Jones were fascinated by this music. They play in polyrhythmic cycles, strange hypnotic time signatures, occasionally one of them gets up and gives us a little dance, egging the front rows to trance out and participate in this ancient celebratory music. When you truly 'hear' their music, you hear it in your mind, and the sound is unforgettable.
Quentin Crisp appears for the last time, says 'Psychic TV!' and covers his face in mock horror. The psychic cross appears projected as a red slit, grows its arms and glows potently. The band appear - GPO is now dressed in a psychedelic patchwork shirt and sellotape trousers, Larry Thrasher is dressed as a hippie woman, Alex Fergusson and the rest of the band look completely normal. Waves of black psychic crosses blip in and out of existence on the huge screen - eyeballs, skulls, devils and crucifixion
scenes are all flashed up - "are you ready - TIMES UP" announces Genesis
- Big Ben counts down backwards on the two side screens, as the feedback intensifies, and BANG - Psychic TV. Neo-psychedelic post pop, punk racket - and its a 'good time' sound, not particularly adventurous, but certainly not 'normal'. Orridge screams, gesticulates, sings a bit, speaks, and the band thunder on, its messy and out of control anti-pop. They play Jigsaw, Godstar "it's about Brian Jones, one of the Rolling Stones", but most of all it's a wall of noise, beaty - type tribal rock out. They leave the stage. GPO returns "I've been told that we can't play anymore, but I don't listen to authority". The encore is a Small Faces cover, distorted and mangled. "Don't play with me, cause you're playing with fire". Indeed. We leave dazed and confused, smiling like lunatics - its Beltane apparently.
Clive Subculture
