I’m always a bit spellbound by the glitter of the MOTH Club. Nothing quite physicalizes a sense of indie showbiz like its stage’s foil curtain. (Now, in front of it, there is a large square, circle and triangle, hand-painted with black and white spirals. Mysterious.) The Moth Club is also one of the few venues I enjoy standing towards the back of for shows; the shape and light of the room, skyed with the gold ceiling and floored with the shrinking horizon of dancing bodies, is existentially beautiful to have before you. Tonight, the space is filled with prepossessing goths (and the occasional non-goth partner), so even more glitzing power is found in the latex and leather that clothes the crowd.
First on the line-up is an act called Spike – a two-piece on stage, but the singular project of Hannah McLoughlin. To prelude the set is the music from the legendary and highly memed you wouldn’t steal a car anti-piracy ad – an introduction also to the deliberate fun to be had and hosted throughout the whole evening. As well as original tracks utilizing dark 80s-tinted synth and a drum machine, Spike cover Warren Zevon’s ‘Werewolves of London’ (“I saw a werewolf with a Chinese menu in his hand / Walking through the streets of Soho in the rain”). The minimal, gothic reworking of the song only seems to heighten its absurdity – the awoohs fit even better into the mouth of a singer who, if lyricless, could be assumed to be performing a spell beneath the moon. The between-songs abound with spoken word samples and laser sounds.
Next is the mononymous Riki. If Spike was 80s-tinted, Riki is wholly 80s-dunked. She graces the stage in red-leather gloves, PVC trousers and, before the heat ramps up, a big shiny bomber jacket. The music follows suit, with heavy, workout-paced artificial drums, neon-lights-on-a-dark-road synthesizer and echoing vocals. I want to draw a sonic comparison to Nena, not just because a few Riki songs are sung in German, but because of the powerful sense of drive they share.
Riki’s stage persona is remarkably actualized. The whole performance is choreographed – seemingly not rigidly, but commandingly and instinctually – her shoulders are sharp, she throws her arms out wide and metronomically moves her hips. I hesitate to type the word ‘empowered’, as it is so often used by corporations pushing a commodified, faux feminism, but Riki seems truly empowered in her display of artistic agency. Her sound, aesthetic, movement, and presence, though strongly influenced, seem so true to her own vision. Seemingly the whole crowd are utterly spellbound by Riki’s dominance of the space, and if few weren’t, they are surely won over by the melodica she wields throughout the final song. In the break I buy a t-shirt emblazoned with her face and ask her to sign its cheek.
Last up is Geneva Jacuzzi, and finally the mysterious black-and-white set pieces onstage are contextualized. Two backing dancers, and Geneva, at first with a cone obscuring her head and tubing covering her arms, appear, wearing similarly monochromatic full-body spandex. All that I wrote about Riki’s creative self-realization can be applied to Geneva Jacuzzi also – it’s a perfectly matched bill-share. Behind her is a projected screen that for each song might display lyrics word-by-word, images of A-list celebrity women or more hypnotic spirals. Geneva and her dance partners strike poses and hold props. In one instance she considers a white ball like Hamlet with a skull before spinning with it in orbit. It feels like we’re witnessing, or even partaking in, an avant-garde tongue-in-cheek ritual. I’m sure Geneva is summoning the spirit of art itself; I’ve never been instilled with such creative inspiration during a gig. Her assured synth-pop, incantation-like vocals, expressive physicality and visuals are at once in her complete control and exuding independently out of her, self-referential and free. During one song she splits the audience in two and performs in the parting, ensuring the celebration makes it all the way to the back of the venue. More than anything else, the set is utterly joyful.
Geneva Jacuzzi. Photo: Joe Norman
One of the few legible comments I later find in my notebook, written about the night, is ‘GOTH DISCO’, and the capitalization was definitely to communicate my total delight.
[POSTSCRIPT from the Editor: SAVE THE MOTH CLUB FROM DEVELOPERS! Two separate planning proposals have been submitted to Hackney Council, to develop a block of Flats on Morning Lane. Both developments, if approved, put one of London’s most loved independent grassroots venues at serious risk, as well as impacting the identity of the local area. For more information and/or to sign a petition to save the club click HERE]
