Les Georges Leningrad

Sarah Dawson 16/06/2005

Nothing like having your brain mashed to a bloody pulp by rampant Surrealists for pleasure! Les Georges are Dada art converted into sound waves, but wait, because just when you think they're the musical equivalent of Marcel Duchamp's 'Fountain', ie. ace statement, difficult to get much out of it beyond that, they hit you with dirty electro riffage that's actually kind of accessible! Enjoyable even! Five minutes later they are back to bashing you round the head with a rubber mallet. It doesn't matter, you're hooked, and you're willing to persevere with them even though they're hard work. Because at the end of the day you'd rather be at their Fetishist Gimp Disco at the gates of hell than at any other normal gig.

It helps that they live up to their music visually by being genuinely deranged. The drummer decides to treat the gig like a slow striptease, flaunting a deeply un-sexy chest wig and striking He-Man poses which contradict his scrawny frame. The singer could be having multiple orgasms. When the gimp shakes his bulging belly it's to mass applause, and when they go to leave the stage people scream for more. More? You want MORE, of this?? Bleeding Masochists. But I'm one of them.