Deville’s Pad was an ideal choice of venue for the launch of Day of the Dead’s second album Kill or Be Killed. Deville’s is a new venue at the wrong end of Aberdeen St with a strict dress code, an impressive cocktails menu, and décor to impress the dark lord himself. Standing in the tiered caverns of hell complete with disco inferno on the dance floor and all kinds of characters wandering past, from milkmaids to amigos, it was easy to get into the spirit of things, and by nine pm the anticipatory fires were blazing through the sell-out crowd. Most patrons warmed immediately to the speakeasy atmosphere of the venue, and several were heard exclaiming ‘at last’ for now Perth has a place where people have to make an effort to look good, where they can homage any style they wish, because everyone understands that this is a place to visit fantasies and nightmares.
The Sugar Blue Burlesque dancers fall firmly into the fantasy category, appearing in gorgeous costumes and then stripping down, either sinisterly or mischievously, to the kind of underwear that no one wears unless they are planning to take their clothes off. They delighted both women and men on the suddenly crowded dance floor who clapped and cheered their antics, sang along with the songs, and danced a little more freely as they were led into temptation.
Morricone’s Man with a Harmonica wound anticipation around through the room, drawing the audience in tight to hear instrumental tales of espionage, car chases, and gunfights, of the psychosis that comes from treading the extremes of desert and surf. Primarily told by guitarist, Ben Frichot in that double picking, psycho-spy guitar voice that alternately wails and screams or lulls you into your ease only to alarm you back into the chase.
Brendan Giambazi adds so much more to Day of the Dead’s sound than the clichebilly that attaches itself to all double bass players, regardless of their style or skill. His bass echoes the tired tramp of feet, the racing heart, a gunshot, a brawl in the local pub. Watching Giambazi was mesmerising, his fingers danced with quickdraw precision and practiced ease along the strings of his instrument, spinning the bass or carrying it like a guitar between bars in the music, he never lost focus of the rest of the band, even when the Sugar Blue girls appeared, doing their best to distract him. Giambazi knew that it was kill or be killed, and this was not a day to die.
Day of the Dead showed that an old skool sound can be pushed along, stretched and warped to incorporate new styles and ideas that prevent a very recognisable genre from going stale. They maintained the crowd’s attention and participation for almost two hours, no mean feat for any band, but particularly impressive for an instrumental outfit because without words, there is one less avenue to exploit in the attempt to entertain an audience of varied taste.
As the stories unfolded, Luke Fragomeni kept a dirty jazz back beat going on the drum kit, with tribal rolls and fills to make sure no one got left behind. Toward the end of the chase, Frichot welcomed Storytime drummer Simon Cribb and another drummer to the stage to create some kind of bizarre surf drum n bass experience for the amigos cavorting around the disco inferno.
While this was going on, Dom Mariani appeared as the second guitarist so many critics insist this band needs, but whilst his performance was as exuberant and rock n roll as always, adding more visual stimuli to an already eye popping stage, his musical contribution seemed unnecessary, since the trio had already filled the room with their well balanced compositions. Perhaps it was just a matter of psychedelic garage being like oil, and surf western being like water, and not mixing all that well, despite how groovy they might look when you shake them up.
If only every day could be a day of the dead day.
See all the pictures HERE
