Kiss the Anus of a Black Cat – Weltuntergangstimmung
When I saw ‘Kiss the Anus of a Black Cat’ on the local concert agenda, I stopped for a moment and considered going. I’ve known of their existence for a while so I was already over that first “what kind of bullshit band name is that” and even the “okay so it’s their band name but it’s still bullshit” phase. It still took my girlfriend dragging me there before I actually did see them, though.
I know of their reputation as a “pretty good gig” but I’ll be fair: I did not have the slightest clue what I was going to see. I was expecting rock of some sort but to my surprise, I was treated to some classy new wave. And let’s be honest, is there such a thing as bad new wave?
Surprise of the evening was An Pierlé as guest backing vocal. Also quite classy, this broad has made it pretty big in the lowlands and to have her as your backing vocal shows you’ve got some strings to pull. Of course, expectations rise accordingly the moment she shows up.
Expectations that were only rarely met. Great music, bland show. Of the 4 artists onstage, 2 of them looked like they were ready to go home. The ones that did seem to give a shit (both singers) apparently hated each other to the point where they spent a whole show with their backs to each other (what chemistry?) and in all honestly, if I had Mrs. Pierlé performing on my stage like she did, she would end up dead in a dark alley.
Highlights of the show were when she took her blonde ass offstage and we were freed of her terribly distracting pretty face and bleak voice. This might be a purely personal opinion but few things bore me as excruciatingly as An Pierlé’s singing, a point she proves time and time again throughout her solo career. Also, she proved to be completely unaware what her lyrics were and when, to the point where she managed to start tweeting in the most inappropriate moments.
What I missed even more than some soul in the female voice, was a drummer. For those intros that were percussive-based and made me lose interest on the spot with their complete lack of dynamics, but even more for something onstage to look at. The lead singer slash guitarist did his best to inject some movement in a static whole, but didn’t hit too many branches on the attractiveness tree on the way down. Anything worth looking at was well hidden behind a bible-sized tome (for the lyrics, you see) and behaved so awkward that it was just annoying to watch.
The light scheme was good but uninspiring and flawless sound did little to save a potentially awesome, but poorly executed live act. Better next time, leaving the blonde at home.