Women of Sodom
with God Lives Underwater, My Life With the Thrill Kill Kult, Lords of Acid at the Sextasy Ball at Avalon
by Chaz Thorndike
Lords of Acid review by Boned Dry
At least, I think it was Avalon. We’d stopped at the Rat for a quickie and wound up having a long session, filled with shots and playing around. Foreplay. The Ball was in full swing when we arrived. Latex and chains, punks and hairs, bondage, babes, beat-me boys – the works.
God Lives Underwater was onstage. I was a superfan of their EP, but the advance of Empty (American) hasn’t fully entranced me. While both EP and full-length are chock full of computer gimmickry, their live set was very boy-next-door rock bandish. Sexy, in a running-his-fingers-through-his-hair kinda way, but otherwise, amazingly nondescript. Sex was in the air, speed was in the veins, alcohol was in the system, and I needed more.
Would any sexual performance art/musical XXX-travaganza in this city be complete without the Women of Sodom? I’ve seen them countless times, but never on “the big stage.” So there’s this guy on a cross – a long-hair, of course – and he’s stripped to a loincloth and being whipped, beaten, and caressed by a nun. Beneath the red lights, the Women were in full form. With every show, the music gets better and the costumes more elaborate. The skits are comic and erotic at the same time, questing to leave no kink unexplored. Anyone who thinks this is just a show should get a front row view. The Polaroids tossed into the audience were a nice touch. Thanks.
My Life With the Thrill Kill Kult always surprise me. I keep thinking they’re amazing, but rediscover how tedious they are. Many around me were staring with rapt attention, glazed eyes bulging, and little bits of drool forming at the corners of their mouths. Somehow the disco beats, billows of smoke, and dancing guy/girl vocalists’ distorted crooning didn’t impress me. I found an unattended tray of lemon wedges at the bar and hung out with them until both band and lemon wedges were gone. Later, some claimed I missed the gorgeous subtleties of M.L.W.T.T.K.K. I didn’t miss missing them.
Then someone else was on. I couldn’t stand anymore, so I found another reviewer more coherent than I. The pen was passed and I screwed. A new friend came with me who didn’t seem to mind that I couldn’t stay vertical.
Lords of Acid exploded into their own brand of aural masturbation. This is no wimpy house bullshit here, brothers and sisters. A real guitar, a real bass, and real drums. A refreshing relief. Thrill Kill’s DAT-O-RAMA set nearly put me to sleep, and I had just run out of Starburst fruit chews to keep me awake. Not to say that LOA is totally without electronics. Obviously there was much programming and synth plugged into their set, but the strong pressure of real instruments made the $17.50 “admission wound” heal a little.
Posing like a young (and horny) Barbara Eden, singer Lady Galore manipulated the crowd into reaction, rewarding them by casting her sexual energy out into the audience like solar flares. Her voice borders between sensual and silly, always remaining strong and convincingly erotic. LOA strive to keep their live show “live,” seamlessly fusing the Rock God/Guitar Hero aesthetic with their intense techno grooves. The formula is potent, it’s lethal, and there’s no antidote. Hard techno’s ruling body are the Lords of Acid, and Lady Galore is their Queen. It’s just that simple. But the question arises, Do they use sex to sell their music, or their music to sell their warped brand of sexual debauchery? Who cares. Marilyn Chambers said it best during the conclusion of her epic Insatiable, “MORE.”