White Trash isn’t a venue that would immediately spring to mind if you were asked to imagine some sweaty, crazy mosh pit of people banging at it Rio style to one of Europe’s hottest new acts. In fact, it would probably come somewhere right down the list along with Bassy and Bang Bang.
However, last night saw a transformation of such epic proportions that I fear it will be impossible to visit the place again due to the morbid fear that it can never be like that again. Storno’s 8-Bit sessions hit a peak with the Kap Bambino show, a highly anticipated return visit to the German capital by one of France’s better exports.
The Diamond Lounge was filled to bursting point; something I hadn’t witnessed since Junior Boys put in an appearance there last summer. It seemed that anyone who had been a regular at Rio or ever picked up a copy of Vice had descended on the Trash for this “one night only” experience.
More or less the instant that Caroline Martial and Orion Bouvier took to the tiny stage, the crowd were injected with a healthy dose of all-out insanity. Track after track blasted out across the jumping, aggressive, writhing snake-pit of bodies. Beer was thrown around in liberal doses. Water was spat everywhere. Stage invasions appeared to occur every 30 seconds. Caroline sang on the floor, the crowd danced on the stage and vice versa depending how the mood took them. Anything goes. Kick over the monitors, stage dive and land on your head, pile up on top of each other in some bizarre emulation of WWF Wrestling and the last days of Sodom and Gomorrah. It was an intense, heated, aggressive experience to say the last. At one point, in desperate need of a piss, I decided to attempt to navigate my way out of the lion’s den to the toilet only to discover that in the mellee my T-shirt had somehow left my body. I did manage to find it later, ripped in half and covered in beer.
Orion was a picture of alien-eyed technological focus, forever bent over his 22nd Century array of machinery, in full control of the hot, pounding electronic pulse that rippled around the room. And Caroline is definitely a front-woman deluxe. I’ve seen several “perfect” front women in my time; spiky Karen O, manic Becky Ninkovic from You Say Party! We Say Die!…but the crown has to go now to Caroline Martial; a red headed pixie, throwing herself around the stage and the crowd like some spastic doll, kitted out in space age spandex and knee boots. It’s freaked-out, fucked up rock bitch all the way with this girl…until she flashes that bashful little smile between songs and she’s a darling little school girl, pleased as punch that you like her songs. She’s nailed aggro-electro-punker meets little girl lost like no one before.
Check these guys out next time you can; if banging French electro with plenty of “Oy” is your thing, you’re bound to love it. For the crazies that were there that night my advice would be, never, ever go to White Trash again.
You’ll only be disappointed.