LimeWire Music Blog

The photo above depicts UK experimental collective Throbbing Gristle in 1979, atop a cliff in Beachy Head, England. Taken shortly before the band splintered into several other pioneering acts, this picture depicts a young, spry, and incredibly dangerous band at the peak of their powers.

Though it was Monte Cazazza who coined the term “industrial music” to define the musical art he and his label heads were making, it was Throbbing Gristle who brought the challenging and abrasive music to a wider audience.  Throbbing Gristle were every bit an art collective, surrealists and thinkers before musicians, half capable players and half lucky experimentalists. The band blazed a brief trail across the UK and Europe before splitting, and with few exceptions until the new millennium, have not performed since; though Chris and Cosey, Psychic TV, and Coil took their extreme experiments to new levels in the interim. In 2007, the band reactivated, releasing Part Two: The Endless Not. It has taken them two more years to begin touring sporadic cities, hitting New York’s Brooklyn Masonic Temple last night, their very first stint in NYC. You better believe I was there, for better or for worse.

I wasn’t sold on the set, but I enjoyed it all the same. The same could not be said for the crowd, as several of the attendees left soon after the piece’s conclusion.

I was unsure of what to expect from the band, as I spied several laptops, controllers, and other forms of digital technology. Immediate disappointment settled in, as I realized the once analog and organic wizards have taken the leap into the digital realm like so many of their peers. It was a hard fact to shake, but as the band sat at their stations to begin their first set, I forgave with haste. The first of the band’s two sets was a dark ambient piece, a live performance of a score written in 1980 for an experimental film entitled In the Shadow of the Sun.  Though I generally go bananas for anything dark and meandering, this particular piece set a difficult tone for the evening, droning and endlessly building for what seemed like ages.  It was certainly an excellent genre piece that I very well look forward to hearing in quiet solitude, but it was not quite what I expected.  I wasn’t sold on the set, but I enjoyed it all the same. The same could not be said for the crowd, as several of the attendees left soon after the piece’s conclusion.

Throbbing Gristle had already unveiled the first of several challenges for the evening, and soon after the band’s mid-set signing period ended, the second challenge began: an unexpected opening “act.”  At first, I was intrigued, as several projectors in the back of the room began to flash images on the stage, as the flickering sounds of each machine triggered interesting and captivating noises, run through several layers of effects. I was very much into this curious and creative experiment, but soon grew weary as the piece dragged on for 45 minutes, seldom changing sound.

Two strikes in, Throbbing Gristle and their latter day antics had the crowd thinned to only the most devout and curious. Those who were fortunate enough to stuck around were treated to the band’s second and final set, which more than made up for any prior sins. The band returned to the stage and immediately began a one-hour long recital of their more familiar material, much to the delight of the audience. The band churned through several of their best known numbers, including the recent and haunting “Almost a Kiss,” the repetitive, demanding “What a Day,” and the abrasively meandering “Discipline,” which closed the set on a heavily percussive and powerful note. Though these tunes still made more use of digital technology with the exception of a handful of organic instruments (violin, Cosey’s guitar and trumpet, etc.), they were still hard-hitting, intense, and immediate. However it was not a perfect affair, as the band performed the entirety of their set with both stage lights and house lights turned up on full blast. Though they may not be rustling feathers with displays of sex, violence, and art as they did in the days of yore, Throbbing Gristle still made a point to challenge their audience, many of which vocally demanded the tender anonymity of the darkness in between every song.  It never came, and though it made it hard for me to truly revel in the band’s music, the disconnect bordered on the surreal, adding an element of difficulty that I can certainly respect, from a band whose image may have mellowed out over the course of 30 years.

Perhaps the most interesting aspect of the show came from watching the crowd’s reactions. In an age where name-dropping bands and pretending to like pioneering artists in a pathetic attempt for scene-cred, it was fun to observe folks (note: mostly hipsters) split at the first sign of distress, a prediction I had made almost jokingly to a friend earlier in the evening. It was almost as if some of the crowd expected sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows from the stage, and couldn’t quite handle the technological nightmares the evening held in store. The band’s second set offered no appendix, not a single encore track, but I am certain that the crowd didn’t deserve it. However, those like myself who thrashed, grooved, and otherwise didn’t take this incredibly rare opportunity for granted were treated to something incredibly special.  If anything, this proves that the band still has their edge, and I am grateful that I was able to witness it in this lifetime.