So, I went to the Goth Ball on saturday night, which was quite fun. I wanted to see Resurrection Eve, but Annette was really tired so I took her home – this was, however, at around 0230 or something. That’s DAMN LATE to be starting your final band of the evening, I reckon.
Guess how many traditional Goth club/dance songs were played at this Goth Ball?
Did you guess zero? If you didn’t guess zero, you were WRONG. And now you have to PAY. With your SOUL.
I’m kinda hoping that next year they call it “The Industrial/EBM/Dark NuMetal Ball” so as to more accurately reflect the nature of things. Don’t get me wrong, I had a fine time – I like Industrial music and EBM as much as the next guy – but I’d like to have see at least a nod to some of the classic goffch00nz, you know?
Anyway, my night was made by the antics of the N.U.T.E guitarist. He leaped! He swung his arms to provide more POWER to the chords! He put one foot up on the monitors! He had no shirt on! He closed out one number by falling to the floor AND continuing to play his guitar! If you took this guy, and cut him in half, and then mopped up the blood and entrials, you’d find the words “ROCK STAR” printed right through his flesh, to the very core. Fan-fucking-tastic.
So I had my hair cut into a mohawk for this gig, and now it’s monday morning and I have not yet had it cut into a more businesslike ‘do. I’ve had to HIDE the fact that I have a vaguely antisocial haircut by parting the mohawk and flattening it down over my head. It’s a DOUBLE-COMBOVER. Now it looks like a bad 80’s New Wave haircut, but I’d rather have customers smirking at my taste than being afraid.