dreamy diaries and deadwood delusions
Music: Yonder Mountain String Band: [self titled] (2006)
Last night I went to Club Elysium, touted as "Austin's Premiere Goth and Industrial Club" but better described as "Austin's Only Goth and Industrial Club," to see Diary of Dreams, a groovy little gothic/ebm outfit from Germany. I arrived late at 10:30 p.m., thinking that I would just be into the first song of the "headliner," but I was, sadly, disappointed. The opener was meditative but decent (a sort of world-fusion Mowai-like band), but the second act—comprised of mostly local yokels with five too many keyboards for what came out of the speakers—went from decent to intolerable. I know, I know, starting acts have to start somewhere, but after the tenth self-indulgent Chem-Lab tune, and a real massacre of a Duran Duran cover (as if!), I was in agony. Midnight came and went, and they were still at it, making my ears bleed. Diary didn't actually get on stage until close to 1:00 a.m.
I must have looked awfully agonized, because a man who looked an awful lot like me (sans the pointy beared) came up and shook my hand and introduced himself as "John." "I'm a owner; thanks for coming out." Very nice guy; I complimented him on booking Diary of Dreams, which was a real treat. Like most surviving gothic clubs in the United States, Elysium survives on its "80s" night dance parties, not booking primo darksider acts.
I said if they were playing in Germany, this place'd be packed full of people. He replied the turn-out for bands like this was typically disappointing (there were maybe seventy-five people there), and it would take some years to "educate the audience." I guess I passed as educated.
The sound designer, however, does not. I swear that was the most god-awful sound system I've heard in many, many years: all the bands sounded like they were playing thorough a megaphone. Yet, despite these shortcomings Diary of Dreams were indeed a real treat to watch, good stage presence, and upbeat despite the doom and gloom if their typical lyrical repertoire. It helps that the band is pretty to look at, too.
Ok, one more thing: What is great about the goth scene, as I'm sure I've written before, is that I know pretty much for any venue that 80% of the audience will be comprised of people my age, with similar backgrounds, polymorphous sexualities, and so on. I really like the fact I have a group of people that I can age with and have a good time; its nostalgic, absolutely, but in a sort of black-clad costume party kind of way. However, I have the good sense to know that my leather and PVC days are long over (actually, they never were to begin with, I was always the mod-goth type, but if I wore that sort of bondage-a-go-go thing, I know better than to wear skin-tight anything now). So what is up with these pudgy thirty something guys taking off their shirts and wearing ass-less pants? It's really quite nasty: pasty hairy flesh hanging out of someone's backside. I mean, this visual aid here is fetching, but this is a model in his twenties; not the brand of ass I was treated to last night. Ugh! No thanks buddy, you've fallen off the gruftie-have-a-clue-about-my-body-image boat and have sailed headlong into pathenticism.
Ever seen a "Gothic Supermodel?" Then you've not see Donna Ricci!
Speaking of patheticism, Mirko passed along a rant from Ted Stevens, a chatty Senator from Alaska. If you listen to this mp3 file, I'm sure you'll agree with me that the Ivy League has nothing on the Bumbling Idiots of our Grand Congress. People elected this person! I mean, it's great for democracy and all that idiots can get elected and re-elected, I mean, I'm all for that possibility. But the actuality idiocy in power . . . oh, god. I'll stop now. Here's the Joshie Juice challenge: see if you can listen to the WHOLE rant by Stevens without gouging out your eyes or madly stuffing your fingers in your ear-holes. I mean, this shit is like Vogon poetry.