ESSAYS: reviews, essays, and a place for musical evolution

July 26, 2000 -

Except Europa, 99 Names Of God, The Confessionals
written by David Gaston of DallasMusic.com

I am still basking in the glow of an amazing concert experience in Deep Ellum last Wednesday, July 26. In the midst of all the Deep Ellum boredom a spark went off that illuminated the evening for a moment like a shooting star before disappearing just as quickly as it came. There was a collective realization amongst the two dozen or so that were watching that SOMETHING NEW WAS HAPPENING; a fresh, innocent sense of wonder that I have not felt in a long, long time.

Except Europa

It all started at Trees with a six-month-old group called Except Europa. Except Europa are a New Romantic revivalist trio who successfully mix the New Romantic sound with European eletro influences like VNV Nation. (New Romantic by the way, was a branch of music from the New Wave era that included groups like Japan, Spandau Ballet, Ultravox, and [early on] Duran Duran). The trio brought their own light show, which shone on them in a fireplace amber color from the rim of the stage as they walked on.

Standing in the middle was Tony Greene, the band's frontman, dressed in a dark beatnick / paramilitary outfit. He is tall and handsome with a square face, ruddy complexion, and a prim, authentic New Romantic hairstyle that you can't miss because it's not back en vogue yet. Programmer John stood to the right, standing behind an electronic drumpad; he wore crew cut and was wearing all black. Stacy is their vampy female bass player, dressed in a black shirt and pants and with lips smudged with blood red lipstick.

As the concert began, the lights glared on the band in flashing red and blue and the fog machine enveloped them in a mysterious translucent mist. Except Europa's sound was arresting and beautiful. A crowd of maybe thirty stood there mesmerized. It may have been the fact that this swiveling red laser was pointed at Tony's pelvis, or it may have been that they were hearing a familiar sound not unlike early New Order being deepened and widened through its presentation in more modern electronics.

For a few songs, Tony picked up a small megaphone and sang through it, a prop and sound that fit the cold, crystalline musical atmosphere perfectly. It had its driving point with electronic Tat! Tat! Tat! drumming trying to force a skeletal dance out of you , and it had its pretty, romantic points. Toward the end, Tony put on a hollow-bodied metallic blue guitar and played it. For once the guitar did not dominate the music; instead it was in the background, adding atmosphere. It too seemed more a prop than anything.

After Except Europa's set, the members of Except Europa started telling everyone, "Hey you know The Confessionals are playing over at Clearview at midnight." So a number of us, including all three members of EU, migrated over to Clearview to see The Confessionals. I knew of The Confessionals through a number of high recommendations so I was glad to finally be able to hear them and see what they were like.

99 NAMES OF GOD

When we entered Clearview another group was already playing, and once we started listening, a number of us started shaking our heads in amazed disbelief. This group was also a trio, a girl singer backed by a guitar player and a stick player and preprogrammed electronics. They sounded like a mixture of King Crimson, the French band Heldon, and Bjork with a cutesy Cardigans-sounding voice.

The guitarist and stick player did an amazing interplay that would just breathe life into the songs. The vocalist was as adorable and innocent as her voice. She looked about 16 and wore a black baby-doll shirt and a plaid miniskirt that seemed to have "schoolgirl" written all over it. She would say "Thank yew!" in genuine appreciation after the warm audience response, almost as if she were batting her eyes. From time to time she would play along on this feminine-looking bass that fit her just perfectly.

I could tell she was way behind the other musicians in experience; it would have added an extra dimension to the music if she was proficient enough to keep up with the guys.

"Who was this band?" I kept wondering. Turned out they were a group called 99 Names of God. They are based out of Arlington and have one CD out so far. There were some mixing problems and the band would have benefited from having either better electronics behind them and maybe a live rhythm section, but nonetheless they were amazing to watch and hear. I can imagine their music appealing to both prog rockers and intelligent dance enthusiasts, maybe even earning them the title "the smartest dance band in the world" because of their already promising ability to create somewhat complex compositions that are surprisingly compatible with the dance floor.

The Confessionals

The Confessionals took the stage next. To begin their set, singer/guitarist Liz yelled out in a somber voice, 'Pay attention! We're the Confessionals." Not "Fuck you, we're Rock Stars," but "Pay Attention! We're the Confessionals." And with that atmosphere in the club became as heavy as a marble sepulchre. The Confessionals are a doom-rock Wire if there ever was one, radiating all the excitement of the new wave/post-punk scene of twenty years ago but with a dark spirit approaching that of The Swans or Suicide.

Liz bellows out these indecipherable phrases and glares out from behind her left-handed guitar over these grinding, oppressive dirges that go on forever while the drummer stands up as his sit down-kit and beats a death march out of his poor drums (one of which was a tympani by the way)-bam!...bam!...bam! And yet at times the overtones in the noise line up and suddenly the music becomes pacifying and beautiful. (Ever heard "Mask" by Bauhaus? Same principle.)

I loved watching this band partially for their menacing stage presence, but especially because of their bass player Lane. Lane looks like a voluptuous Siouxsie Sioux with similar bad-kitty facial features and a black helmet of hair. When the performance started, Lane took on a life of her own, staring at the crowd with this sexy temptress gaze and smiling slyly while weaving in place with her black bass. She was in the focal point of the group but she never sang except for some minimalist backing vocals. Liz was scary. She looked like a composite of Lene Lovich and Patti Smith with the face of a sundisk-era David Bowie; her eyes seemed to glow white like an attack dog's.

The drummer was completely bald and looked from where I was sitting like he had no eyebrows, which added plenty to his fearful presence as the standing drum mutilator. The most normal-looking person in the group was Shawn the guitarist, who was wearing a CBGB's shirt in homage to the original new wave.

Musical evolution was happening before our very eyes. A group of like-minded people from two slightly different musical genres (those being progressive and gothic/new wave) were sharing their ideas with an open-minded audience. Instead of the usual rivalry between those genres, each was excited about what the other was doing. All were building on established ideas but adding innovation and excellence to the mix.

The result was something new, something special, instead of regurgitated and previously digested ideas around for another go. So we now have proof that THERE IS HAPPENING MUSIC IN DALLAS. It is up to the audiences themselves whether they will continue to be bored, or find what is happening and support it so that it can grow.

David Gasten
dallasmusic.com

(reproduced with the permission of the author)