Cobra Killer @ Revolver Upstairs, Melbourne (16/12/2004)

It takes a mighty drawcard to lure me to Revolver these days – grimy, uncomfortable, oversold and the wrong side of the river.  Festy or not, feisty Cobra Killer (legendary after their Peaches support in 2002 and hot on the [fetish] heels of a scorching performance at Meredith on the preceding weekend) had no problem providing such allure and selling out the venue (probably double over) on a Thursday night to boot.

Staying well outa that room ‘til the Cobra Killer onslaught was due to begin, I didn’t catch much of the support local electro punk kids.  Barely looking old enough to be admitted into the venue, their energy was refreshing with plenty of leaping, swapping of instruments, wailing, reverb and nonchalant expressions accompanying songs about a disdainful future.  An awfully cute and a very different entree.

Without further ado, the room promptly turned into a wall to wall mosh pit.  No point complaining – time to head for the front and strap in.  But next time I’m taking some armour.  A Peggy Sue crowd filled with sweet bobs and bangs, stripes and cherry nailpolish became a veritable snakepit of venomous pushing, shrieking, scratching and general nastiness.  Mercifully, Annika Trost and Gina D’Orio promptly staggered onto the stage charming the pit with sheer, unadulterated shock value.

So you thought live electro was a heap of mouse clicking and nob twiddling?  Think again.  These statuesque Teutonic lasses bring punkette screaming, deadpan stand-up comedy and very real tits (that would be Annika) and ass (Gina) to their trashcore performances.

Clad in black leather Gestapo jackets and drenched in just glitter (at this stage), the ladies clambered onto stage in perilously tall spike fetish platform heels to acclaim of the clamouring crowd.  Unravelling some wires and donning a flesh toned latex glove each, Gina promptly pressed play, and with a “1, 2, 3, 4”, the girls marched rigorously announcing ‘Let’s have a problem’.

It wasn’t long before they shed their outer leathers to reveal their costumes straight from the cover of 76/77.  But while in that particular still (and indeed many of their press shots) they look like freakish pristine shop mannequins, here they were – very real, very messy and utterly deranged.  A pair of idealised fetish dolls straight from the imagination of Newton or Taschen.  A couple of freaks retrieved from a junk yard of some sort of cross section of Weird Science / Stepford Wives / Mannequin / Bladerunner – lobotimised experiments gone terribly wonderfully wrong.  Annika in a 40s militaristic matron dress (with a pesky third button that constantly popped open to reveal a black lace bra) and Gina in an ill fitting Eastern Bloc iceskating leotard left the pair reminiscent a rejected war ambulance driver and failed Olympic hopeful straight from the Cold War joined forces and running seriously amok.  Not to be forgotten were their pretty genuine indicia of cult fetishism – flesh coloured fabric bandages, stayup stockings and the aforementioned latex of course.  Pure fun, pure sex, pure madness.  Their post-feminist craziness made complete and utter sense to all present.  “Fucking hot bitches!” screamed an admiring female fan.

The ladies claim to make “whole body music”.  Certainly they need to be seen (and preferably in the flesh) to be believed.  Not only in the sense of their get up, but the sheer entertainment of their performance.  These girls really throw themselves into it. Literally – stage diving and crowd surfing on at least 4 occasions and falling over with the most minimal concern for their personal safety.  Channelling the craziest characteristics of Roisin Murphy, PJ Harvey and Kim Gordon, the gals doused themselves and all within reach with red wine and generally thrashed about with raw, naturalistic energy.  They like it when it burns a bit.

Amongst all the antics (which also included Annika impressively simultaneously hula hooping and singing, not to mention deep throating an entire microphone, surgical masks and even more crowd surfing and wet n wild action), was the music of course.  The pair showcased all the hits of 76/77 and Third Armpit (a partly sloganistic, partly tripped out psychadelia of mashed 60s and horror samples) – including favourites ‘LA Shaker’, ‘Mund Auf Augen Zu’, ‘Heavy Rotation’, ‘Needle Sharing’ and mucking things up with a failed attempt at the ‘Ant Dance’ and a successful rendition of ‘Kookaburra Sits in the Old Gum Tree’ (wtf?) and always calling for more red wine, a box and “Louder!  Much Louder!”.

Thoroughly entertained, before you could catch your breath (and kick back at the winkle-pickers digging into your calves) -  the mania was over.  The girls were singing ‘Bye Bye Byee’, but with a tongue in cheek promise to meet fans “Let’s say, in about 7 minutes” at the entry desk.  “We are very interested to meet each of you.  To learn about your hobbies.  And your family situations”.  They bowed with the greatest gravity and aplomb and left.  And just when I’d thought I’d seen everything (and then some) – to my sheer amazement and delight – there they were, at the front desk …