This Vicious Cabaret describe themselves as Rock Noir. They originate in Leeds. One is tempted to clarify, however, that notwithstanding any mental association through name approximation or their Yorkshire location, any shred of resemblance to Cabaret Voltaire ends there…
Having split from previous Stooges-influenced outfit Johnny Zhivago, guitarist Steve Maloney went on to form this grungier trio, together with bassist Jack Fowler and drummer Pete Devine. The metal-lite sound of their debut EP 'Twilight of the Idols' is now further curbed with their current fruit of labour. Released by Borderline/Imprint Records in 2007, the EP 'The Next Utopia Will Be Better Still' remains on the garage side of things, with distinct Gang of Four moments and a strong Billy Childish aura, yet makes gentler and more playful listening.
First track Wallow is a preppy tune with a sexy gruff bass line, which, in spite of the Alice in Chains style lyrical proclamation of antipathy, serves to make it more of an empty whine by an over-privileged insolent kid than a heartfelt dissension.
Don’t Look Down leaves very little impression – whilst at first it seems it might take an interesting direction, it then dives down the well-trodden path of simple shoe gaze harmonising and melancholy Antipodean minor chords. Didn’t the early 90s end, like, in the mid 90s?
Veering towards a livelier beat but still maintaining existential adversity, the next track Waiting for My Gate to Call seems to talk of unfulfilled potentials and fear of a purposeless life. It does not, unfortunately, serve as cathartic victory over the song’s concerns, with absolutely no potential being realised here, as if trapped in its own self-fulfilling prophecy.
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Final song The Devil’s Got His, and yet more nihilistic questioning of morality and self worth. But this song is the darkest of the four and as such finally fits the niche intended. It does not shirk from the commitment made by the face-in-the-gutter feel of the lyrics, and the cyclical guitar creates a sweeping whirlpool into the abyss.
Vicious Cabaret’s target audience is unclear. Bearing in mind the self-classification as Rock Noir – possibly attempting to avoid the more juvenile Emo - and whilst arguing the virtue of music as an important outlet for dark and destructive emotions, the age of innocently true angst has ended – bands can no longer get away with emulating the Joy Division morbid effect and be taken seriously. Is it all manufactured, or is it real? It’s impossible to ascertain whether main lyricist Maloney’s wallowing in self pity is genuine, or else why remain in a place in life which clearly brings about so much contempt and spite.
Perhaps cynicism and the culture of material abundance have killed real deprivation-born angst here in the Western hemisphere – all that’s left are marketing tricks and spin. This album rings too much like empty spin.
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