NERVOUS GENDER, EDDIE AND THE SUBTITLES AND THE PLUGZ AT CLUB 88
Nervous Gender don't exactly
go easy on everyone's musical prejudices and habits. They take every thing
we know a rock or punk show should be, shake It around, don't pick up
what's fallen off and randomly throw what's left in our faces. It could
be called musical if you're desperate for labels, but that's really stretching
it a bit. Most of the spectators sipping on their draft beer wondered
whether or not to stretch it that far. Meanwhile the band didn't make
things any easier for the watchers, they shrieked and howled and spat
out ugly sentiments and immature curses, pinched their electronic hardware
'til it hissed and throbbed with machine pain, stuck blades in the circuits
and pummeled a token electric guitar that must have been last tuned around
World War II and buried in the ocean since. All the band members sang,
but the guy with the glasses won the cake for sheer terrorizing lunacy.
Everything remained fierce and absolutely un-hummable, the audience went
from helpless fascination to unreasonable aversion, depending on their
need for newness, mental challenge, easy references or a box of Excedrin. |