Andrew Wilson, vocalist and guitarist of Die! Die! Die! is drunk. Staggering on stage and brandishing a bright red Fender Jazzmaster, he begins to abuse Revolver’s security (and rightly so, the group of anti-social bastards that they are) before informing the crowd that this is the last stop on their national tour. Then he places the Jazzmaster against his amp, screeching out a noisy wail over a steady drum beat.
Rangy bassist Lachlan, looking like a reject from a British indie band, lopes around in all black playing a gutsy, sordid bass line tearing through the heart of his Ampeg ‘Fridge’. Andrew instantly throws his body with abandon into the crowd, destroying the fourth wall at the outset of the gig, before leaping back on stage and writhing around on the floor. It’s Promises, Promises and it’s violent. The crowd is silent at this point – it’s more like the witnessing a dark musical ritual then actually being a part of it. We’re waiting for something.
Then a few songs later a familiar heavy drum beat is dropped, filling the venue, shaking the shag pile carpet while a low drone follows. Die! Die! Die! pull back and fall into Sideways Here We Come. It’s a solitary song, with both Andrew and Lachlan on stage tense, like two tectonic plates about to crash into each other, a striking contrast to the clashing guitar and bass which opened the set.
And then as the song ends in a cacophony of noise, the guttural bass line of A.T.T.I.T.U.D tears through and Andrew stands guitar-less at the front of the stage while the crowd sways. Then they explode into a mess of flailing arms, heads and chins. Broken glass is scattered across the floor, Andrew drags his mic lead across the venue and band members get lost in the chaos of the crowd only to appear triumphant on stage again before falling the ground in a frenzied ecstasy of bass and noise.
It’s something to see a band completely throw themselves at the music with an abandon that is neither contrived or awkward. Instead it’s like Die! Die! Die! have staged some sort of vicious revolution. Despite their dystopian musicality, they stand in stark contrast to My Disco, who thrive on minimalism and control like a band of Orwellian servants. Instead Die! Die! Die! control the tempo tightly and then immediately relinquish it, symbolising the chaotic opposing force to their own precision in a heartbeat.
It was easy to lose track at the gig with the audience leaping on stage and bodies flying everywhere, but when Die! Die! Die! ended, they did so abruptly – a complete denial of service and of sound. The crowd was left hanging for more but they didn’t return. Despite their anarchic stage presence, Die! Die! Die! know when to quit. This is it. The end. It’s Die! Die! Die! killing off their tour on their terms.
