Sounds : 3 December 1983
"MAKE IT chaotic," Graeme SPK muttered as they stalked onto stage. "Umm,
like Birmingham?" asks the manic John Murphy. "No, WORSE," is the reply.
With a smash - half of the props supporting their percussive gleanings from the garbage cans collapsed as the first cudgels crashed steel - the SPKers started off (literally) in a blaze of flames that had the audience recoiling from the stage as their glad-rags wilted under the assault.
Sinan's voice is improving steadily, finding new strenght to propel her mournful howlings. As the 'Metal Dance' single steadily outsells the Smiths (honest!), SPK are beginning to crush the commerciality they once aspired to with their bare fists. You build it up, and then you knock it down...
Tonight saw the metal-pop bastard well and truly ABORTED, and an orgy of fire, sweat and blood erected in its place. The 'songs' (ha ha; words often fall apart) screamed upwards, eventually collapsing as their internal energy tore them apart. 'Haiti' signified the lull before the storm, an ungodly chant, a celebration of stalking night and jungle, the locusts descending. In Haiti, zombies walk and the West meets its nemesis...
The 'single' followed - 'Metal Dance'. Or, rather, what remained of the single. Like Alien bursting from the inside, the thunder and the storm have broken out of the tune's insipid confines, littering the stage with flame and yet more flame.
Then into a schizoid 'Will To Power': sparks shower the audience. Derek pounds steadily on while Murphy reaches what seems to be new heights of ecstasy as he gradually dissolves into the metal.
Some foolhardy soul has Sinan light his cigarette with her mini-flamethrower ... going where angels fear to tread indeed.
With blood on their hands, SPK are dragged back to 'Walk On Dead Steps'. Everything collapses, bodies and metal, flying shards splinter the huddled audience.
And who was that mysterious entity that joined them for the encore?