Things Involving a Fiendish Anniversary

(Eventually I will write up all those shenanigans I promise!)

Yesterday was the 30th anniversary of proto-electronic Batcave staples, Alien Sex Fiend's first ever gig, so they were performing a very special birthday gig at the Boston Dome in London. They're another of the many, many bands I've been trying to see for years but somehow always missing, so I simply had to make it to this one. Coming straight from work and stuck with slow trains (I thought it might be quicker to get the train than the coach, turned out to be about the same time, dammit) I arrived late, so if there was support I missed it because the Fiends themselves were already blaring through Manic Depression. I was kicking myself for being late (I have no idea what tracks I missed, alas) but I needn't have worried, because the Fiends had an amazing three hour set in store! Three hours! Three frigging hours! I still haven't quite gotten over that. Three hours of live Fiendishness! Ahem.

The venue was reasonably full, meaning that for a while I was towards the back, though by the end of the (three hour!) set, I was right down on the second row. The audience was largely an older crowd, I guess they were mostly people who've followed them for years (there were a lot of well-worn ASF t-shirts on show) and generally more on the punky side of things, at one point a full-blown mosh pit opened up. As for the Fiends, they were brilliant, exactly as I'd hoped they'd be: loud, atonal, unhinged, kitsch and... did I mention loud? My hearing has gone in my right ear. Oh and they had the brightest strobe lights I have ever seen that did weird trippy things to my vision.

Nik and Mrs Fiend and their cobwebby stage decorations along with one of those customised mannequins they seem to take everywhere

Shrouded in dry ice and enshrined with fake cobwebs, Mrs Fiend leaned over her keyboards and contraptions for most of the show, while Nik staggered about messing around with props (which included a plastic skull, a rubbish bin, counterfeit dollars, fake blood, and a giant inflatable banana. I think the banana might be the odd one out) and on the opposite side of the stage, two chaps dressed like mad doctors (alas, I don't remember their names) played guitar and any other electronic gizmos that Mrs Fiend didn't have enough hands for (I don't really understand how electronic music and tape loops work, but it appears to involve a lot of knob twiddling, and one person can only twiddle so many knobs). During the encore, Mrs Fiend finally escaped from behind the decks to play guitar, which was awesome.

Mrs Fiend and whoever the doctor fellow was on guitars

Mrs Fiend on guitar and Nik Fiend on a rubbish bin. This was about two and a half hours in, I think Nik needed a sit down!

Their (three hour!) set was a selection of tracks from their lengthy career, with each track extended into length, experimental versions, highlights being R.I.P, Boneshaker Baby, I Walk the Line, and of course Dead and Buried. Nik's vocals are just as aggressively raw in person as they are in record, tempered slightly by his gloriously kitsch stagecraft; picking through bins, pretending to eat a plastic rat, lurching around with his arms stuck out like Boris Karloff, covering himself in fake blood, throwing fake bones out into the crowd, and so on. In between songs, while Mrs Fiend did whatever it was she needed to do to get ready for the next one, he would natter away about how he hadn't gotten Mrs Fiend an anniversary card and how he doesn't want a makeover and whether or not you can have a cup of tea in the next life and how he wanted to thank various people for helping the band over the years. At one point, in the middle of a vaguely political rant, he said something along the lines of "fuck going outside, I want a fucking cigarette" at which point someone in the crowd handed him one and someone else offered a light. And so Nik was smoking through the whole of the next track. Indoors. Too bloody right. Honestly, that was the most punk rock thing I've seen at a gig for a long while, and kudos to the venue staff for not stopping him.

Nik Fiend looking like the undead supervillain he is. You can't really tell in my crummy photos, but he was wearing a riddler coat and a Judge Death t-shirt. And he had "Fiend" written on his trousers in case he forgets who he is

Actually, come to think of it, the whole atmosphere at the gig was pretty similar to a punk gig: lots of people slightly drunk, lots of people really feeling the music, lots of people moshing, lots of spilt drinks, but somehow all very friendly. At one point towards the end a very drunk bloke climbed up onstage while Nik was talking, but Nik just grinned, put his arm round him and carried on until security pushed the guy away.

Nik covered in fake blood and singing. Or possibly yelling.

When they were finally forced to leave the stage, Nik went along the front row shaking/grabbing hands with people and he very briefly grabbed mine!

My hand with a smear of fake blood thanks to Mr Fiend.

After they finished, the venue turned into a club as the DJs took over. They were playing a great mixture of stuff, but I was rather tired (I'd been up since 6 that morning) and so after buying myself a souvenir t-shirt, I got ready to go. I do wish I'd had the energy to stay longer, apparently they were going to crack open the chocolate cake mannequin thing they'd been given at Whitby, but it was a long journey back and I'm feeling zombified enough today as it is. As I was leaving, a bloke from the Fiends' website took a photo of me because apparently I'm "very gothic" and "far too young to be one of the old goths"! I'm going to have to keep my eyes peeled for the picture, but when (if?) it appears online it'll be here too.

So anyway, happy anniversary to the Fiends, long may they reign!