KILLING JOKE
The Empty Bottle
Chicago, Il
Dec 10th, 2010
Walking into the Empty Bottle in Chicago, Illinois, I realized that it was a hat-trick night for me. It was my first time seeing a show in Chicago, it was my first time seeing a show by myself and, most importantly, it was my first time seeing Killing Joke. I’m not sure why, as a long standing member of the Killing Joke tribe, I never saw them, but I was about to correct that mistake. To my surprise The Empty Bottle was a smaller club than I expected a band like Killing Joke to play. It wasn’t a bad club, but more of Chicago’s answer to CBGB than the concert hall I thought it was.
The crowd bristled about, rocking back and forth, drinking, talking, everybody very lost in their own fabulous hipness. Rock crowds at shows like these are pretty interchangeable; from the haircuts to the facial hair to the vast consumption of PBR, hipsters and underground music snobs have as much their own costume as any other scene. The best part of the crowd were the aging punks who either had become locked in the Lou Reed leather jacket era look or had cashed in on the aged, sexy, artist vibe. Killing Joke started in the late seventies, so any snot nosed sixteen year old early fan would now be approaching fifty.
The opening band was this heavy music mess named Bloodiest, a band who recently signed to Relapse Records. I just don’t see the excitement with this band at all. The music is slow, sludgy and largely derivative of everything from Boris to High On Fire. The most insufferable part is the singer, who caterwauls like some melodramatic player from a Renaissance Festival. Every time this guy sang all I could think of was “Brave, Brave Sir Robin” from Monty Python And The Holy Grail. Bloodiest tortured the audience for a grueling forty minutes but, being hometown heroes, were cheered on as if what they were playing was something new and amazing. After a short down period the opening music started and Killing Joke took the stage.
First out was Youth, the original bassist who was playing with Killing Joke for the first time since 1982. The crowd cheered knowingly, it was clear this was a true Killing Joke crowd. Then came drummer Paul Ferguson and Geordie on guitar. Firing up, the sound of the three men (plus keyboards) echoed through the packed hall, raising the spirits of the crowd in preparation for what was to come. Killing Joke began to lose themselves in a wall of sound when frontman Jaz Coleman stepped on stage, his face painted black and white, his one piece jump suit already showing signs of sweat.
To see Killing Joke is more to experience something that is outside of yourself. The music is so steeped in history; so unique and played with such passion that nothing even comes close to witnessing it live. Killing Joke don’t just own the stage and club, during their set they own the Universe and everything in it. Jaz prowled the stage like a father expecting the birth of the apocalypse, but while completely menacing, Jaz is very inviting. He wants everybody to be of like mind, to be a tribal, united front as they dance and sway to the music. It’s a party, but one steeped in revolution, not excess.
As far as their sound goes, Killing Joke brings it from an entirely different point of view than any other band out there. They are the last true remnants of an old and glorious style of playing. They were equal parts sloppy and precise, a complete mess but totally beautiful and organic. There is never a false moment during a Killing Joke show, and the band works for every second of it. Geordie’s guitar was a squealing razorblade that sliced through the people but managed to stay warm and huge. Youth was the only constant, his bass never faltered nor crossed the line into punk ethos. He was steady, the anchor of the band. Paul Ferguson simply bashed the drums into submission and proved again why he is such an inspiration.
The night was full of surprises as the band pulled out jams from back in the day all the way through their much-heralded new album Absolute Dissent. While they didn’t perform “Medicine Wheel” or “Are You Receiving”, it was a nice to hear “Madness” and “Change” played out again. I loved how Paul changed the Dave Grohl drumbeat of “Asteroid” into something almost danceable, and when Killing Joke busted into classics like “Primitive” and “Wardance”, The Empty Bottle nearly shook to its rafters. One total surprise to me was the band’s live rendition of “Ghosts Of Ladbroke Grove” from the new album. I was never huge on that song but the live version is longer, thicker and brings out what’s best in the original version. It’s now in heavy rotation in my head and car.
Killing Joke blew me away, floored me, and left me hungry to find anything in music that rises to their level of greatness. They performed with a hunger and passion that bands half their age wish they could muster. Killing Joke comes to play, to bleed and to leave part of who they are on every stage they touch. I not only felt part of the tribe, I felt truly honored to have been in their presence.
