Convergence Two
at Man Ray
by Angela Dauthi
One of Us at Babyhead photo by Lisa Gourley
Although I heard some mutterings of “Gothapalooza” by one or two of the less-than-happy Man Ray crowd, I was rather looking forward to Convergence. A three day Goth fest, from Friday to Sunday. Black-clad folk from all over the country descended upon Boston, their leather-draped legs brushing up against flowing silk. Friday started out as a meet and greet, with vendors selling their wares, from kinky magazines to fetish wear to these cool little figurines of pathetic slave men chained up. Just another night at the Fetish Club, except this time there were so many new faces! Tight thighs, bulging crotches, wild hair, barely concealed breasts, bloody swaths of lipstick… all the things that Man Ray stands for. Some of the regulars didn’t seem too pleased, though. They looked like they didn’t want these new people on their turf. My, we are territorial, aren’t we?
The next day, there was a tour of cemeteries and Gothic architecture. I can’t recall this bit too well, something about a hangover and other various chemicals running around in my system, but there’s nothing more surreal than seeing 1) Goths in the daytime and 2) a horde of Goths walking down the street in Boston, going through cemeteries and such.
That night was The Show. The supposed highlight of the weekend. The colorless contingent was back again in full force, looking exotic, erotic, and, as will happen, occasionally nauseating (“Spandex is a privilege, not a right”). One room had the live music, another was spinning some of the best Goth Man Ray has ever had. None of that “It’s Really Techno, But It’s Got A Distorted Guitar And It’s Not Happy So We’ll Call It Gothic Industrial” crap. The music was full, sensual, and flowed like warm honey. I was there a lot, because there were some sound problems with the bands.
One of Us played first, magnificent as ever, John stripped down to a thong, huge rhythms… I’ve got to think of something new to say about them. I know it seems like fawning, but they always sound great. One Of Us was followed by You Shriek, and this is when the problems started. It appears they didn’t get a line check, and their MIDI equipment didn’t get mixed right. The end result was they only got to play three songs. But those didn’t sound too bad. Sort of like Kill Switch… Klick. Almost all their sounds were MIDI drum triggers, and if one thing goes wrong, you’re fucked. The singer was able to keep his composure, he didn’t pout, just took it in stride. I respect him for that.
Sunshine Blind took the stage next, with the conspicuous absence of a drummer. They used sequences as well, and the mixing problems showed up again. Look guys, why do you think Reznor uses a real band when he plays live? It’s almost impossible to properly mix sequences and live instruments well. I’m starting to think that some bands should just stay in the studio, or else give all their money to the sound men. Anyway, Sunshine Blind does have some good songs, and the singer is pretty, although she mostly just stands around. Ah well, like I said, the songs were decent.
Then came the part of the show that could be labeled “ludicrous.” Christian Death, for all it’s past, is now just another dark metal band, and a pretty bad one at that. Rozz, come back, Gitane, what did we ever do to hurt you? Everyone left to go dance on the other floor. Just to point out the obvious: You aren’t scary. Your musicianship sucks. You don’t have any sex appeal. You aren’t at the Rat. And the sound was bad, too. Ugh.
At least the night ended well. Switchblade Symphony blended in perfectly with the Man Ray scene – full band (the mix still sucked, but not as bad as some), nice looks (the lead singer has a school-girl style thing going (but a bad girl, and a tongue piercing), the rest… well, I wasn’t paying attention), and a silky and dark sound, cruelly innocent and irresistibly alluring. We were all drawn to her voice, both young and deeply operatic. They were obviously enjoying themselves, dancing onstage and actually smiling! Hey, don’t look so shocked. It happens.
The next day, there was a “farewell party,” where supposedly ice cream was served. I skipped it. I decided to spend the day in bed with this beautiful boy I met on the dance floor. I don’t remember what his name was.
