Combichrist
Words: Crystal Farina
Photo: Michael Spadoni

Appeared:
August 4, 2007
Network, Ybor City
 
A synergy of electrodes channeling occult-like dreams.
 
The mohawked, charcoal-stained Andy LaPlegua (founder and lead singer of Icon of Coil), Mr. Petersen (synth), and their duet of horror-driven, drumming badasses (Jon H and Joe Letz) moved a sizable crowd at 23 a pop on a sultry Saturday night. Yes, 23 is more than the usual club cover, but consider Tampa’s electro-less situation. Go ahead and try to find any brand of techno that isn’t a pool of watered-down house radio edits on any night in Ybor City.  You’re sure to end the search nauseated and lethargic. Start your journey at the now closed Amphitheatre, scamper past Prana, and then make your last stop at The Castle. As a more respectable club, The Castle dedicates time to subgenres and industrial techno on Saturdays, but it won’t be a live show.

Please spare me the argument that electronic music is not economically valuable because first-time promoter, Vanessa Ish, has confirmed that people will gladly pony up the dough for its provocative streaks (or even antics). Although Ybor has some renowned venues with highly mentionable live music on the weekends, most people would decline a 23 entry fee. If that doesn’t express the starving desire for more electronica in this city, I really can’t tell you what does.  Combichrist was a good start, and they successfully demonstrated industrial techno in its rarified form at Network. From the mechanistic aesthetics of the place, with naked surroundings of pipes and scarlet-lit bars, one can say Network was designed for the pure acoustics of industrial music. Unfortunately, its space seems frequently vacant or is wasted on banal genres of a lesser value.

Network was one of the first stops for their U.S. tour for their new album, What the F*** is Wrong With You People?.  The performance of the older track, “Without Emotion,” however, was the most satiating. “Without emotions, without feelings, without love, without hate, the rest is just a clock, ticking,” was starkly repeated, and it is interesting to note that “rest” is manipulated to sound like “breath.” This is simple to do, but it reflects a perspective that magnetized audience members towards LaPlegua’s hands. Meanwhile, the drummer peered down at the crowd in mid-strike and cracked a wide grimace. The comedic darkness of it all drew me into laughter, and I was glad to hear the amazing turnout will breed related performances.