IAMX at Slims - 6/9/2009

I guess under other circumstances I wouldn't do shows at this clip, but this is my Last Month Here and I needed a pick-me-up. I'd listened to some of IAMX's stuff on youtube, and his dark, sleezy brand of pop appealed to me. A friend on Twitter unexpectedly helped out with a free ticket! So I had no reason at all to miss this show.

The friend was HardRockChick of live-blogging fame, who is, by the way, exactly as cool as you might imagine she'd be. She's sweet and soft-spoken and comes to life when it's time to talk music. After a few false alarms in which I weirded out a few slim, dark-haired people (though I AM sure I've seen the girl in the black ruffled dress somwhere before: she said she was a musician so maybe... Kimos?) we connected stage left.

The opening band was Hypernova, a six-piece pretty standard line-up remarkable for their curls, their glittery-but-driving hollow-body guitar riffs, their pounding drums, and their bespectacled frontman with the short beard, the booming voice, and the face carved out of wood. I think it would take him days of intense concentration to form a smile, even assuming he has it in him at all. They weren't a bad group, in fact they were actually pretty good, but I didn't enjoy them. And I'm not above accusing the frontman's inapproachable, unresponsive face of being the thing that stopped me from really connecting with the group. I'm not sure what this says about me and my standards. Upon hunting down the link to their myspace I discovered they are actually from Iran, which is interesting and makes me sad I didn't enjoy their show more then I did. If there's one place where rock and roll SHOULD flourish, it's in a country where those who play can be publicly flogged.

Maybe some smaller glasses on the frontman. This isn't nerdcore.

There was a very long interval between sets thanks to all the gear that had to be changed, so Hardrockchick and I filled the time by talking. Our conversation included, in no particular order: NiN/JA (her stories are MUCH more interesting then mine), Tom Morello's badass superpowers, how much Chris Cornell's solo show suffers from a distinct LACK of Tom Morello, how much "Scream" sucked, even live, Trent Reznor's now not-so-secret sense of humor and aggressive tweeting, how funny the concept of "aggressive tweeting" is when you think about it, Boots Riley's sense of fun, Ilan Rubin's raw talent, repeated my interview question and she promised she'd try and get him to answer if she can, Carl Restivo's coolness, how much we love Restivo's bubble-tweets and wish he'd do more of them, both hoping details surface about his twitter party, whatever that turns out to be.

Have I mentioned this Jaimie girl is awesome?

As for the main event, I can sum it up by saying my feet are bruised and covered in dirt. And glitter. I am never wearing flip-flops to this kind of show ever again. I count myself lucky to still own ten toes, but in happier news, Dreamer's Bad Audience Karma was LIFTED! If just for tonight! During the set a girl with a jangling outfit of feathers started dancing with me out of nowhere, then a girl with a short brown bob grabbed my hand and sling-shotted me to the front of the stage where I jumped, jammed and pumped my fist in my wonderful out-of-rhythm way until my poor unprotected feet couldn't take it anymore and I was forced to retreat, mercifully late in the set, only to get snagged on some kindly gay giant's button.

But this blog ostensibly isn't about me, so how was the performer, IAMX?

He was very...small. I mean, Jaimie had told me he was small, but I wasn't expecting him to be AS small as he was. He wasn't a little person or anything, but he's definitely tiny, so much so that I believe Jaimie when she tells me he has to make his own clothes, since most men's clothing doesn't come in a small enough sizes for him.

Good thing the guy melts some serious face. What a performer. His sweet tenor is full of an almost tender despair. His brand of dark pop filled the whole room, two synthesizers working full blast to keep the electric waves coming, but not detracting from the vitality of the live performers: a keyboardist woman in some truly horrific make-up and a guitarist with an open shirt and a headband. They commanded almost as much attention as the frontman did, singing back-ups and leaping on things, clapping and doing whatever they could to get the audience fired up.

It worked. They were fired up. I'm not familiar enough with his catalog to tell you what his setlist was, but the audience adored him and I heard sing-alongs at more then one point. Wow. Remarkable.

When it was all over, I counted all ten toes (thank goodness), bid a fond farewell to the Hardrockchick, thanked the gentle gay giant for unhooking me from his button, looked in vain for the woman who had dragged me to the front row, told Gentle Gay Giant to thank her for me, bought some buttons, and went home.

Good people make for good times. It's a truth.