Monsters of the new wave

The doors swung back and the hordes surged forwards, ushered inside by a smirking circus master, lecherous with rheumy eyes. He grinned as I passed, showing his teeth; needlepoint barbs flaring through the murk. From inside, discordant bars of a carousel lullaby had already begun to creep ominously from the darkened stage, commanding silence, evoking the atmosphere of the burlesque carnival about to commence.

There was a collective gasp from the audience as the band stalked silhouetted onto the stage, prowling into position, guitars slung about their thighs. From the shadows, their eyes gleamed like marbles while dry ice coiled serpentine, winding around the pillars at either side of the stage, threatening to tear it down. Vampire mouths the colour of bruised cherries drawled welcomes, blowing kisses to an audience that, for tonight at least, hopelessly adored them. Under the spotlights, their teeth glinted like bones when they smiled, and their skin flashed chameleonic, lurid with the lights.

“I’m in love with a monster of the new wave.”

Androgynous aliens, unbearably glamorous; with their strange and fantastic attire, the glittered daubs - a garnish stolen from another time, this band looked as if they had arrived straight from some exotic distant planet I’d only dreamt about. Weaving enchantments, they always left us helpless in their wake, always melting away before morning, out of our reach.

“I used to have a heart. I used to have a soul.

I used to have an identity, until you took control.”

But for now, their spell was cast, and the audience waited breathless and infatuated; blazing with lust and obsessive zeal, eyes devouring every move they made. The lead singer surveyed the scene, drinking in the attention. And then, sound searing through the speakers, they slammed into their performance; blistering guitars and thundering drums resounding through the hot, suffocating air. They pouted and sneered, tearing across that tiny stage like no one else I had ever seen before. Their limbs moved sinuous, hypnotic with the implicit assurance that they could transport us from the monotony that smothered us, enticing us away, desperate to be let into this alien, illusory world that they seemed to have come from.

As their first song scorched to its conclusion, there was a heartbeat of silence before the ensuing tumultuous applause enveloped them. They paused before continuing, scanning those rows of faces so full of devotion, adulating eyes edged thick with kohl, bleeding in the heat

“You left me bleeding on the dancefloor.”

By the last number the crowd’s spinning waltzes had slowed to an intoxicated sway, glutted with the beauty of these excessive icons that held us in their grasp, but unwilling to let the night end; to let them disappear into the ink black night, not knowing if ever they would return. We were seduced, captivated by these depraved angels as they swept along the front row, audacious and staring demonic. As the last notes died away, echoing into the metal rafters that watched, cold and diseased, their front man had stretched provocatively across the dusty floor, exciting screams of lust as he continued to sing, guitar lying forsaken at his side.

And then it was over. Tired and clutching onto each other support as the room gradually emptied, we stumbled out into the glacial, bitter night. I sank down onto the stone steps; nowhere else to go as the wind whirled piercing, cutting through my clothes. Everywhere I looked, shadows seemed to surge into existence, crouching snakelike in each corner. Hands gnawed numb by the cold, the minutes dragged by. Eventually, the door behind me opened with a whine, spilling light onto the pavement, bathing me in their blood-warm glow. Their fierce embraces left me enthralled, but though they loitered longer than they should have, in the end they had to depart. Their lips nectareous, candied with affiance, leaving me paralysed, narcotised by passion, inanimate as the rag doll I carried, fading by my side.

“I’m in love; I’m in love with a monster ….”

. . . . . . . . . .

Lyrics taken from ‘Monsters of the New Wave,’ by Rachel Stamp, text by Janie Doll, painting by David Hancock "Monsters of the new wave" acrylic on canvas, 6 ft x 4, 2004.