05/03/2008
Trencher / Spin Spin the Dogs / MicroPenis
The Portland Arms
Cambridge
March 1st.
The ‘hilariously’ moniker’d Mircopenis are a boy/girl duo who make noise using vox/bass/drum machine. They’re a sort of post-modern, performance art, piece, with lyrics like “I’m in love with the communist war machine. Supersonic. Sex. Attack”. The problem is that singer Louise has very little stage presence; she mainly stands in one spot looking like she wishes she was somewhere else, which doesn’t really help when delivering lines like that. I don’t know if you’ve seen the ‘Bad Uncle’ episode of Nathan Barley, but Micropenis sound like the girl from that fronting a Big Black tribute band. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing as they’re quite enjoyable, assuming it’s all a little tongue in cheek and, dare I say it, ‘ironic’.
Spin Spin the Dogs are another interesting spectacle. The singer can only be described as ‘eccentric’ as he stomps around the stage as if afflicted by some sort of petit mal, and barking (no pun intended) out lyrics, whilst the band play something akin to neo-jazz in a similar vein to Mr. Bungle. Sadly their frontman is no Mike Patton and his attempts at being ‘zany’ are a turn-off; introducing each song with an anecdote before running out of steam and demanding his band play the next song.
Considering how ‘normal’ the three young men that form Trencher look, it’s surprising how evil they sound, especially considering their sonic arsenal is comprised merely of drum kit, bass and a tiny Casio keyboard. They tear through a set, comprised almost solely of tracks from last years Lips album, and it’s enough to make your skin crawl. Aside from myself, and a few other brave souls, the rest of the audience watch from the back of the room; secure, safe and trying to avoid having their ears flayed. Quite a shame as they miss an incredible display by all three musicians.
I never thought it possible to create so much dread from so small a device but singer/keyboardist M.Shit manages to do just that. His fingers are a blur as the machine spits out what can only be described as a ‘dark carnival’ sound; like the Pied Piper luring poor children to their doom. You’d be forgiven for assuming that Drummer ‘Lock Monger’ (Trencher obviously don’t use their own names) were some sort of multi-limbed demon, unleashing an assault on all parts of his kit. The dirty, fuzz-bass, grooves, which are wrenched from Pox’s instrument, are enough to send a shiver up your spine as you try twitching and contorting to the music.
A particular highlight is Nightmare on Crack St, a lurching beast of a song, akin to a merry-go-round gone horribly wrong. They finish their set in the manner it began, all screams and noise, and I wander into the evening, my ears ringing delightfully and my soul slightly stained; but all the better for it. Words: Andy Devine
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