Sister Machine Gun at the Fenix Underground

Have I ever mentioned how much I love living in Seattle? One of the major reasons (aside from naked people on bikes, of course), is the simple fact that many of the bands that I’ve been listening to (and playing during my DJ career) for years actually come through town every so often, so I can actually see them.

Admittedly, time and budget prevent me from seeing every band that comes through that I’d like to, but so far since I’ve moved down here I’ve seen Concrete Blonde, Pigface, and KMFDM twice each, Peter Murphy — and now, Sister Machine Gun.

(Random SMG trivia: Chris Randall provided vocals for one remix of early 90’s techno hit “James Brown is Dead” by LA Style, making the ‘Rock Radio’ remix the only version of JBiD with actual sung lyrics — and, incidentally, also making it my favorite version of the song.)

The ticket I had said that things were going to get started at 8pm. Since I needed to rest after playing in the sun all morning long I didn’t actually make it to the Fenix until around 8:45, but as it turns out, that didn’t matter at all, as the show didn’t actually get started until around 10. There were three opening bands, and unfortunately, I’ve got to say that none of them impressed me all that much, and I ended up spending most of my time until SMG came on stage wandering around the club.

This was my first time at the Fenix. It’s an interesting place, though I don’t think one that I’d hit on a regular basis. It looks wonderful — all dark woods and brickwork, with the main floor holding one bar and the performance area, an upper mezzanine level with two more bars and a balcony overlooking the stage, and a lower level with another bar and a second dance floor. However, the downsides (as I see them) are that the drinks are overpriced (my usual drink, a Malibu rum and coke, was fifty cents more expensive than it is at the Vogue, came in a plastic cup about a third smaller than the glasses the Vogue uses, had more ice taking up volume, and was mixed weaker than I’m used to) and the clientele is something of an odd mix between the black leather, vinyl, and PVC clad goth/industrial people and the college frat boys and sorority girls brought in due to the Fenix’s Pioneer Square location. Overall, it’s not a bad place for shows (though the floor in front of the stage is pretty small — it seemed to work decently tonight, but I’m not sure how well it will work for next week’s KMFDM show), but definitely not going to be a regular haunt.

While I was killing time during the opening bands, I ended up running into Ron, an old roommate of mine from back at the Pit (my old apartment in Anchorage). We hung out off and on for the rest of the night, making snarky comments about the opening bands, being amused at the odd mix of customers, and swapping stories about old friends from Anchorage.

I also ended up spending some time talking to Kevin and Amanda, a couple from Canada who were in Seattle specifically for the SMG show. We got started talking when Amanda pulled me aside to ask me about my kilt, then just sat back and chatted for a good half hour or so, comparing the various scenes in Seattle, Anchorage, and Vancouver. I may end up running into them again next Friday — when I mentioned that KMFDM were going to be there, Kevin immediately started scheming to try to find ways to arrange his schedule to come back down.

Eventually all the opening acts wound to a close, and I found my way to the floor in front of the stage. I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect from SMG, as I haven’t heard any of their recent albums since they left Wax Trax records. I had nothing to worry about, though. Once they took the stage — Chris Randall at the forefront, Charles Levi on bass (who I’d seen play bass for Pigface the last time they came through), plus a guitarist and drummer whose names I didn’t catch — while I didn’t know the first few songs of the set, they were definitely right what I was hoping for. Halfway through their set they moved into their older catalog of songs, but not before Chris took a few moments to tell us a story. I won’t be able to relate the exact words — this is not a transcription, merely the best that my fuzzy memory can recall — but it should be fairly close…

Okay, we’re right about halfway through the set now. I tell this story at this point in every show, and I try to make it specific for where we are, but this is something like the fiftieth show on this tour, and I’m running out of witty shit to say.

See, a couple nights ago we were playing at the DNA Lounge in San Francisco when I told this story. Now the guy who runs the DNA is pretty big on the Internet, and they stream live webcasts of all their shows. When I told this story, he thought it was pretty funny, so he put it up on the club’s website. Well, it got around, and word got out, people started telling other people, and now our server is dead. We got slammed — our site, our record label, and every other site that was on that server is gone right now. I dunno, they may have gotten it back up again by now, I could be talking out of my ass here, but a few hours ago, it was dead.

Anyway. Here’s the story.

Everything we’ve played up until now, up until this point in the set, it’s on our own record label, Positron Records. You can buy any of the new albums right over at the kissing booth — two bucks for a kiss, ten bucks for a CD. Everything after this, all our old stuff, that was released on Wax Trax Records. Which is cool…or was cool, back then. See, now Wax Trax is owned by TVT Records [boos and hisses from the audience here], who are a bunch of ignorant fucks that can’t manage their books. So now all our old catalog is owned by TVT…actually, it’s not even owned by TVT anymore, it’s owned by Credit Suisse. Which I guess is kind of cool — my first four records were put out by a bank.

The point is, I don’t get shit for any of it — not one dime, not one red cent, not one wooden nickel. So you can go home, get on your computers, find any of our old Wax Trax shit, and download it for free. We’re not getting paid for it, you don’t have to pay for it.

Okay. Here we go.

Incidentally, all of SMG’s Positron Records albums are available for purchase from the iTunes Music Store. Too cool. And, hey — it sounds like a good idea to me.

Anyway, from here on out we were in familiar waters for me, and the band kicked much ass (not that they weren’t before, I just didn’t know the songs). They bounced around with a few from each of their first four albums, finishing off with two killer tunes — Addiction (probably my personal favorite SMG track) and Sins of the Flesh.

As an added bonus, today was Chris’s birthday! The owner of the Fenix (that was who that was, right?) grabbed the microphone from Chris, announced it was his birthday, and Chris immediately went running offstage in mock embarassment. He got dragged back on fairly quickly, got some birthday cheers from the audience, and then went on with the show. Later on, after the show finished and the band went offstage, the crowd sang Chris “Happy Birthday” before filing out. Quite fun.

Anyway, awesome show. Much fun was had by all.

iTunes: “Addiction” by Sister Machine Gun from the album Sins of the Flesh (1992, 4:16).

Sister Machine Gun ‘This Metal Sky’

You sit collapsed as an empty mind, last bytes dissolved into your last breath and the droning sound of hollow places pulse with ache. It is lonely here, living in the hazy moment between the alarm and the awakening where the dream precipitates madness as its encore. You are only half here, the other half erased to be brushed from the paper by the same hand that fingers your ache like a fresh scab until you bleed a river of ridiculous.

I see now it’s not the vision that’s attraction, you peddle your pieces to a man called Compromise for a place in the greater scheme until the only thing left standing is the place where you once stood. You have just reduced yourself from static to dead air droning.

Or it could be the other way — take the wire to the other side of this metal sky and you will see these stars are just projections. This is not real, which means their thunder is merely a threat.

Do you want to know the truth? They need you. They are mechanical, maniacal, derived, you couldn’t drown in their gene pool if you tried, but they’re all made up in brilliant disguise selling the very thing they most want but cannot possess — you. And magic is the key to their success as simple slight of hand steals your autonomy leaving you believing you are in control.

Tell me, do you trust your judgement? My friend, your id’s been tricked.

Welcome…

…to Metropolis.

— Sister Machine Gun, ‘This Metal Sky’