Reviews Archiv 7

Yesssss!!!That's it! Like I expected it. Andrew Eldritch has arrived with all his storage of tons of Dry ice in many creative varieties. And he really spoils us again, no doubt about that. Oh, Andrew, honestly, do we really deserve that? It's very kind of you! All kinds of shimmering clouds are floating across the stage, some reminding us on sweet summertime fog, some seem like dark thunderstorm clouds. But thanks to colorful spotlights it's an awsome view and reminds us wagely on a scottish highland scene, where some northlights have found their way through the fog. And suddenly inbetween, there is this dark silhouette appearing , which makes us have a guess first, whether it is the ghost of Canterville turning up or not. Having a closer look, we soon discover the father of cryptrock, who, if I'm right, has almost reached the suitable stoneage as well. Yes, he kept his youthful shape, and this time he has left his blue/red/white stripped trainers in his draw and has decided at least for a black leather jacket. However, nothing has changed over the years. The Sisters Of Mercy still work with drum- and keyboard computers, probably to save some salery costs, which is nessecary at present times. But with those tons of dry ice, I mentioned above, you can get around this problem easily . At least there is a bass and a guitarist up there and of course the chief, who takes the whole stage and attention for himself, despite his rather small shape. He does his part well, but officially with an attidude, that he has to fullfil a job. Every big hit is included, "Temple Of Love" as well as "Vision Thing" as an encore. Only the biggest hit "More" is missing like always. I think Andrew has put a veto on that one over the years. You have to give him one thing at least. He's a phenomena exspecially in the current economy situation. No record in more than 10 years, only every now and then going on a tour, but the venues are always sold out and crowded. Congratulations Andrew, you've managed again to win all these fans out there for yourself, with typcal Sisters-statussymbols and these certain clichee's . And you leave 'em in hope for a maybe new record sometime in the future floating out of your brain. And also, that you'll be back again sooner or later with all your sisterish-shades of haze gushing out of your head up to the heaven of gothic rock. Yeah alright, cult is cult, which says literatually everything with no other comment.

If there was a pendant , what Beethoven is to classical music, it's Victor Bailey for fusion jazz. Beethoven was a genius despite a handycap, and without knowing how he actually did his stuff. Vic doesn't seem to know as well. No, - actually it's a mystery to me how he does it. I can't tell in words nor can I explain how this guy threatens his bass guitar and forces it into warp speed. By all weatherreporting sideaffects, you don't get to see and hear this every day, I can asure you. Joe Zawinul has devinately laid his spirit into Vic's performance. The only hurdle is, - you have to understand this kinda music- to like. And that's everything else than easy. High demands go hand in hand with a huge portion of excentric, which mixes up in a asymetric pattern of a spheric improvisational cloud of sound.The 43 year old Einstein of fusion philosophy manages easily to function his bass into a leadguitar and let it play roulette with itselves under the motto . let's see what happens, - no risk, no fun. With a slight wave of arrogance Vic gives the audiance the feeling, that he's got everything under controll. Has he? - Somehow probably for sure. Otherwise he wouldn't be a genius like , - yeah - Beethoven, who wrote his nineth symphony when he was already deaf.
Anyway, thanx Vic for a crashcourse in experimental esthetic and musical Jazz-striptease and for....
.....nevermind!

Yes, you get it in your sleep, don't ya'! This individual here is a real natural talent, you don't find easily anywhere else. He's looking like a L.A. Glamrocker, but his heart is beating for the Mississippi-Delta-Blues. There's no eye staying dry, and no ear deaf. Eric Sardinas is playing his ass off and is singing with a typical bluesy voice the Louisian rhythm. John Lee Hooker, Leadbelly, Washboard Sam and Reverend Gary Davis would be doing somersaults and singing haleluja, if they could hear their heir of this kinda music. With only 33 years of age, Eric is following the foodsteps of the just mentioned legends. He's only giving the whole thing a modern touch by using a heavy guitar riff. Thanks to musicians like him, the blues will not disappear that soon, and the somersaults of Hooker and the reverend could get pretty exhausting down there underneath the potato roots. It's the fourth time, Sardinas is here in Germany, and hopefully it's not gonna be the last time. His name is just starting to become a notion, you have to bury deeply in your musical background knowledge. All I can say is: long live the blues, the Mississippi, the crossroads and the spirit of John Lee Hooker.....

What shall I say to that?! I have acompanied this group from the beginning of their carriere press-technically. I've seen 'em about a 100.000 times so far. Okay, not that often. And I know this band almost too well. To be honest, I do hard to judge them objectively. Alright, Gotthard are an excellent Liveband, and yes, Gotthard have brillant songs. But I still prefer swiss chocolate from Lindt, even it makes me become fat. Greetings from Wilhelm Tell, and the arrow has shot the apple from the hat of the victim. Or was it a bird? . Nevertheless, Switzerland stands for quality, no matter if it's chocolate, apples, music or wigs, - so what Steve?! Gotthard are almost perfect. But I remember a date with David Lee Roth in the past, when he told me: "hey, what does your favorite pair of jeans look like? My ones got a big hole in the butt, and two at the knees. Is this perfect? No! - But it's absolutely right!!!"
Gotthard should start thinking about that....
grüazi and aufwiedaluaga - (good bye in swiss-german!)

E'viva Espania! The Punk is also at home in Spain. The prove are the Killerbarbies. And they don't exist only since yesterday, exspecially their front woman Sylvia Superstar. Since their release of the Petula Clark cover "Down Town" everybody over here knows them. No, this is nothing for friends of high quality music. That's simple punk without any extras. Sylvia's image matches 100% to their style, - the outfit, the hair extensions as well as the overdimensional boobs, which would make even Jayne Mansfield become jailous. Sylvia has class, no doubt about that. Don't get me wrong, I'm still the on the right shore, what's up to my sexual favours, which I'm not sure about in Sylvia's case. But who cares. She knows exactly how to put herself in the right spotlight and to catch the whole attention of the audiance on her person. She remembers the Sex Pistols and sends a dedication out to the Ramones. There ain't not a single clichee' missing in her performance, loud, glamerous and cracking. The rest of the band disappears behind her figure. The Killerbarbies are Sylvia, the others are nessacery requisits.
Like mentioned before, this here is no sophisticated quality tunes. But it's thrilling, it's not a single second boring, the spark jumps over on the audiance and the party is exploding. And let's be honest, this is eventually what it's all about.......