For several years now, What the Fest has been organising the Ex Tenebris Lux festival in the autumn, with a simple mission: to plunge Montpellier into darkness by showcasing ‘dark cultures’ through a series of events, including several memorable concerts. This year's line-up was particularly rich and varied: Chelsea Wolfe, Hangman's Chair, DOOL, Rotting Christ, Maudits, Seth, Morne, Jozef Van Wissem in a film-concert and Shaârghot painted a picture of darkness (literally, in the case of the last-mentioned band) in a region which, before the saving action of What the Fest, wasn't exactly spoilt with that kind of events.
We went along to see their closing night, an industrial line-up the likes of which we've only dreamed of: in addition to the unmissable Shaârghot, there was Kill the Thrill (who emerged this year from almost twenty years of slumber) and Machinalis Tarantulae for their first concert in five years. It was an amazing bill, and the evening offered an oasis of darkness at Victoire 2, while the rest of Montpellier lit up for a mapping night that was far too colourful for our retinas.
MACHINALIS TARANTULAE
The last time Machinalis Tarantulae played live was in Montpellier in 2019. In the meantime, the world has been on pause during a pandemic, and the duo have taken time out to concoct a third album, Traum, which we finally discovered two months ago (review). Justine Ribière and Miss Z quickly found a unique formula that works very well live, as they both remain seated... until now. The surprise of the set is that they are now standing up! While we feared for a moment that we'd lose some of the solemn flavour of their ritual, we were quickly reassured: the choice was a good one, fitting in well with the energy of the recent, more hard-hitting tracks, and it's a real blast.
It's been five years since we last saw them, and we've missed them. The mysterious, poetic viola da gamba collides with the possessed percussion and biting guitar. The trance has a more rock'n'roll feel to it, and you can feel Miss Z's pleasure in throwing some big industrial metal riffs in our faces, an art she has long mastered to perfection. We also enjoy rediscovering some old tracks like Melanocetus, which seems to slow down slightly at first, as if to amplify its melancholy, before gaining in intensity and sounding more violent than ever.
The pounding rhythms match the beats of our racing little hearts. Boom-boom-boom-boom-boom. Justine Ribière combines icy authority with poignant emotion in her singing, before delivering a series of intimidating growls. We go through every state and come away with the conviction reinforced: Machinalis Tarantulae is a treasure. Like all treasures, this project is as beautiful as it is secret and precious. On the other hand, we're keen to share it with you, so discover them for yourself - the charm is stronger than ever!
KILL THE THRILL
On the bill, veterans Kill the Thrill offer a bittersweet lull with their blend of noise rock and cold wave, their industrial coldness offering a different facet to the ultra-violent facetiousness of the headliner or the baroque incantations of Machinalis Tarantulae. All right, then, let's take a breather.
Surrounded by a new line-up (Stéphane Guilouzouic has replaced Marylin Tognolli on bass, Julien Robaut is on guitar and François Rossi on drums), Nicolas Dick imposes his sober, discreet presence and his twilight mood. Little by little, the tracks develop their spleen, mastering an art of contained feelings and crescendo comparable to The Young Gods (like the recent Tout va Bien se Terminer, whose promise conceals some hellish storms along the way).
Kill the Thrill has the elegance of sincerity, of constant tension between anguish, hope and defeatism. The singer, for his part, suspends us with his French lyrics, which he brings to life with his rough, cracked voice. The performance is inhabited, and from the calm springs a few tormented outbursts. You're reminded of Bowie from Blackstar and the Swans as you sway between earthy roughness and morose contemplation. At the back of the room, people who aren't quite young anymore but not already old share their feelings : we appreciate the chance we've been given to finally hear these sounds and this singular voice live on stage!
SHAÂRGHOT
A Shaârghot show starts ahead of schedule, as Skarskin, that funny creature who livens up gigs with his antics, wanders through the audience to ‘bless’ us with black paint. As the Parisian industrial metal band approaches a decade on the live circuit, we've seen them grow and fill bigger and bigger venues. Tonight, however, they're not sold out. Between several sold-out dates, Shaârghot may have fallen victim to their own competition, having played in Marseille ten days earlier and Auch the following day, but also to a busy autumn of concerts... and those bloody illuminations in town!
It feels a bit like ten years ago, when it was clear that this over-excited little beast was going to grow up very quickly, but that everyone present could still keep it a little ‘to themselves’. And if you're feeling nostalgic, we can't wait for that special date in Paris on 14 February when some of the old tracks will finally be played again: despite their creator's opinion, who was either too modest or deafened by bellowing, they're still kicking!
All our fears about the atmosphere were quickly swept away. The people in the audience were all eager to stir... We were amused to see Étienne Bianchi take hisfirst crowd bath as soon as the second song, although we suspected he had improvised the manoeuvre to avoid sprawling out after a slip. He's a rambunctious animal who seems to come down from the stage to pick us up and take us with him. It's a delight to see that the group's enthusiasm, generosity and energy are not only intact but seem to be multiplied tenfold by the proximity with their audience.
After seeing them so many times, it's hard to talk about them without repeting the same things. The show is grandiose and insane, the technique impeccable (from the lights that bring the dystopian tableaux to life to the full, powerful sound). We're having the time of our lives. We don't know if it's ‘written’ or if the succession of gigs has brought it about spontaneously, but each member embodies his character with a striking naturalness. They're musicians, but with their costumes and their respective roles, you'd swear they come straight out of a comic strip or a cartoon. Tonight, it's Paul Prevel, aka B-28 (also behind the magnificent Kloahk project) who shines in all his darkness under the spotlight. His official arrival in the band two years ago is the best thing that's happened to the band in recent years: a free electron between synths and guitars, he inhabits the stage and gives Shaârghot a new charismatic side-kick who's endearing... and a little worrying at times.
As for the rest of the show, it's like walking into a tornado: no matter how much you prepare yourself for it, it still shakes you up just as much, and it's not impossible to see various unusual objects and body parts (the legs have this weird habit of being at eye level) flash before our slightly panicked eyes. Brun'O Klose on guitar sprays us with sparks. Skarskin throws fake bills around during Traders Must Die. The familiar presence of Clem'X on bass, with his absurd microphone stand - cup holder brings the extra sandpaper as soon as his mouth approaches the mic.... and as usual, it's hard to make out Olivier behind his drums. Shaârghot mix humour and ultra-violence in a cathartic, ironic circus where the megalomania of the characters contrasts with the generosity of the band, who take a long bow to their audience at the end of the concert, and where the utmost rigour in guaranteeing the best possible moment for us rubs shoulders with spontaneity and a clear taste for chaos.
When Are You Ready? resounds, heralding the beginning of the end of the set (there are still a few raging pearls left before the unifying finale on the apocalyptic anthem Shadows and this visceral duality between anger, rebellion, celebration and melancholy in which Shaârghot once again finds a state of grace as unexpected as it is powerful), you realise that it has all lasted but the blink of an eye. It was better not to blink too much, in fact,not to miss anything of the show (and better to dodge the chunks of leg and flying teeth). The eyes will end up black anyway, as a symbol of resistance in the face of the menacing, all-green Great Eye that stares back at us throughout the evening.
We knew it, but we had to check it again and again: Shaârghot live is always exceptional. It's fun, infectious, hard-hitting, wild, crazy, exhilarating, messy... You come out of it washed out on Gazoil, crumbling, disgusting, stinking, sticky. You know that in the days to come, the slightest gesture, the slightest touch will provoke a little pain, a crack. The definition of happiness.
Before we close the curtain on this magical evening, we must once again thank What the Fest for their incredible work, which not only commands respect for the quality of the eventson offer, but is also absolutely essential and necessary. A relentless passion and a desire to offer people the very best was the hallmark of the night as a whole, so go and support them and all the others. When faced with obscurantism and the enlightened, choose darkness, because without it, all we'll have to do is give each other three kisses (as is customary in Montpellier) while being eaten by mosquitoes in the middle of November, in front of nice and quiet mappings and other dumb really cool heritage festivities. Ex Tenebris Lux, as they say, and see you next year!
