(A)LIVE
Sometimes the w orld
needs another
perspective. Live music always gets us fired up at [sic]
HQ and for this issue’s (a)live column, we thought we’d
try something differ ent. Instead of sta ying in the dark
shadows of the dancefloor or tr eading the stic ky aisles
of beer-stained corridors at some dank club through a
contributor’s memories, we thought we’d get inside the
heads of those strange and dangerously volatile followers
of psychedelic noise who took the stage for the fir
st
time this summer. What does it look lik e from up there,
under the lights, inside the beast of snarling feedback and
crashing cymbals? Who the hell is Ric hard Gear anyway?
Why should we care? Even simply getting answers to a
handful of questions out of this secretive band was tricky
(the five artists never use their real names, tend to wear
dark glasses or masks in interviews, and have an aversion
to music journalists that borders on hostile); putting what
answers we did manage to get into some kind of coherent
format was impossible…but read on anyway. All we can
say for sure is they are a seriously weird bunch. [sic]
[sic]: Who or what is Richard Gear?
[sic]: Describe the band’ s debut performance at
Midsummer Festival this summer.
[RG]:
Richard Gear is being bor n in an alley full of chinese
firecrackers.
It is the musical equivalent of hot sand as it transitions to
glass.
It is a collective of a ward-winning artists in a sonic
exploration of belly buttons.
Richard Gear is oversimplified notions of romance in the
1980s.
A bad idea.
[RG]:
Stretching, and lots of it.
Like trying to fall asleep in the heat of the summer with
a fly buzzing in the upper r eaches of the ceiling , out of
swatting range, and content to keep moving.
Just like a wet willy.
Abrasive, like sandpaper scraping away the details fromthe
Mona Lisa’s face.
It was ok until one of the festival headliners, who
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14-10-07 7:00 PM