The fact that the 80's are back is no news to anyone, I myself have discussed it on this stage before. The fact of the matter is, that now after being reacquainted with them, the fun is over, and its about time they go back to where they came from.
Having said that, and with this notion in mind, I did decide to go to the 2nd annual electroclash celebration.

I've mentioned the electoclash here before, as the place where I saw Fischerspooner for the first time, but gave it no more than a brief description (if any). Due to the lack of any other interesting events in my life or around town, I will now give it the full coverage it (doubtfully) deserves.
So. This year's event took place at Webster Hall, which is a 3 floors arena, quite big, and not as nice as last year's venue (the Exit). The Performances took place on two floors simultaneously, when the main dancing area on the 2nd floor hosted performers and DJ's, and on the ground level most of the smaller performances took place. Sort of.

Maya and I decided to arrive early, around 9:30, to save ourselves the long lines that would surely appear in later hours.

This would be a good place to stop for a minute and mention that Wednesday is a gym day, and not only that, it's also a double George V class day, when the first class is muscle work and the second is spinning.
I hate spinning. haaaaate it. Really, really hate it. The reason why I do it is a big riddle to me. It's true that I am very fond of my adorable petite instructor George, but there is a limit to what one can tolerate in the name of fondness. That particular Wednesday the class was even worse than it usually is. As a matter of fact, the only thing that kept me going was the wild fantasy of severely beating the shit out of George (with a broom stick), smashing the sound system to bits and pieces (with an axe or large hammer), and setting the classroom on fire (with a match). this class brings out a lot of hatred out of me.

So when I arrived to webster hall the first thing I did was pour down a vodka and red bull (but they didn't have regular vodka, noooo. They only had orange vodka. Orange vodka with red bull. So what I held in my hand was a frightfully florescent orange drink), so I could stand on my feet for the next hour or two at the very least.
When we arrived the place was rather empty, but soon started to fill with electro NY kidz.

Allow me to elaborate on this one: when I first tried to come up with a proper costume to this obviously posh night, I did come up with something kinda funky, kinda 80's and kinda involving a skirt, knee high sox and girlie shoes, but being it a Wednesday, and going through with this plan would mean that I'd have to carry all of this extra clothes and shoes with me along with the gym clothes, I decided to simply wear a white tank, pants and a big scarf with good ol' nike shoes. Fuck everyone.
I did however put on the mandatory black eye shadow and my super sticky lip gloss, so that my lips glittered like a 7 year old girl's patent leather shoes.
Thankfully enough though, the rest of the attendants did not share my "simplicity and comfort are your friends" theme, and chose to go with the expected 80's/black/self pompous/safety pins/white-shirt+tie/spacy makeup/hair bleach/leg warmers/belt studs/slits/I'm-so-unique kind of look, thus supplying us with lots and lots of eye candy. Ridiculous as it sometimes was, the beautiful electro kidz made Tel-Aviv's Kruder&Dorfmeister vintage wearing crowd look like flea market beggars.

The evening was hosted by Larry "o-my-god" Tee, the founder and organizer and fagish Richie Hawtin look a like, which introduced the performers with great excitement and funny intonation.

The performers were:
on the 2nd floor (the main stage):
DJs - John Selway (a NY techno DJ& producer that usually works with Christian smith that does Monday night's "Tronic Treatment"), 2 many DJs, Tommie Sunshine (the gay "berliniamsburg" night's DJ), Felix Da Houscat, Erol Alkan and Arthur Baker.
Performers - Sophia Lamar (a skinny drag queen), Mignon, WaldorfTobell, Mt. Sims, Poon, W.I.T, Ping Pong Bitches and Linda Lux.

On the ground floor (the band stage):
Venus Hum, Bill Coleman, Prozac, My Robot Friend, Hungry Wives, DJ Ulysses, Scissor sisters, Xavier, Avenue D, Jojo De Freq, Prances, Spalding Rockwell, Dr. Wundt and Perfection.

Obviously, I did not see all of them. I am after all a working girl, you know.
I will now bring a detailed account of what I did see.

The first thing we saw, about 15 minutes after we came in, was Venus Hum, a 2 guys & a girl soft electronic group. Nice simple electro pop, very nice voice for the girl singer. Nothing bad to say here. Cute even if not very significant.

After that we went upstairs (that would be a good place to mention the whole up and down movement between the gradually getting crowded floors was one of the most annoying experiences of the evening) to listen to the last notes of John Selway and witness the glory that is Sophia Lamar.
Actually, I didn't know who she was, but Maya did, and told me what to expect. And Sophia Lamar, as skinny as a shriveled pistachio on a snowy day, was indeed a sight to be seen. siliconed to perfection (or botoxed, or whatever it is they use these days), with some kind of a feathery outfit, Sophia sang a song titled "its all fake" which she presented with appropriate hand and body movements, mainly pointing to her own face, and finished with the line "its all fake, but I paid for it". well, good for you darling.

After her Mignon, which is best described a Samantha Fox of leather, chains, and heavy metal (only far far less sexy), performed a horrible song in a screechy voice. Other than evoking in Maya and me the urge to kill ourselves, she also pulled Peaches to the stage with her, and they both engaged in a bizarre pseudo sexy mud fight (with no mud). It seems that Peaches, who performed at last year's electroclash, and is a very average looking chick (far from good looking) that does electro-rock dirty fuck me songs performed in a dirty violent manner but with weird grace to it (it just works for her), was a great influence on the female solo artists that performed that night. Both Mignon and Princess Superstar (or is it superstar princess? anyway, she gave a suprise appearance later), that share an identical flabby belly, unattractive physique and come fuck me attitude, called Peaches to the stage and had a short wrestling match with her. I guess if this shit works for peaches, it can work for anyone, right?
wrong.

When Mignon was done and 2 many DJs got up to play a set of ear-tearing acidy electro shit, we got down to the ground floor to see if My Robot Friend already started his act. I actually wanted to see him for quite some time, and I wasn't disappointed. We did miss the first song or two, but got to see the rest three or four. My Robot Friend is a guy with a George V type of body - short and stocky, fair skinned with dark eyes (or maybe that's just the way his suite made him look) who is covered, head to toe, with a plastic suite with millions of flashing light in it, and some sort of similar spacy helmet which has florescent lights embedded into it, lighting his face with a white cold light. Quite nice. He sang funny songs like "what women want" (a clue to the wondering reader: babies) one song with the "young and the restless" theme, one about hacking into his computer which he did with some sort of a portable web cam that he carried through the audience and screened on the wall simultaneously. What I liked about him most is not so much the music, that sounded no different than any other 80's revival, but the fact that he was self aware and ironic, did not take himself seriously and giggle through the whole act.

At this point, we were getting rather tired, but Felix was still a few performances ahead. We managed to drag ourselves upstairs once more, this time to the 3rd floor, that actually has nothing but a balcony view to the 2nd floor, from which we watched the weirdest rock performance, which I'm guessing was WaldorfTobell. This 2 male singers rock group, had actually nothing to do with electo, and gave a "Stela Maris" style of rock performance in a language that might have been Spanish, but most of all had a Russian touch to it. We were shocked, especially when the 2 (leather wearing) guys rolled on stage and threw stuff to the audience, but luckily they did not stay long enough for the audience to throw back stuff at them.

That was when Maya gave up and decided she had enough. We went back to the 2nd floor, and in the midst of Tommie Sunshine's insignificant set she left.

I stayed there and watched another meaningless performance by Mount Sims, a group that includes a lead male singer accompanied by two female dancers (1 white 1 black) who's main contribution to the songs he sang was what intended to be a sensual and erotic (but was just plain idiotic) dance on the stage stairs, with such deep motifs as pretending to perform oral sex on a guy with a big speaker instead of a head, or pretending to masturbate holding a mannequin's arm. How cool and original.

Following that performance came another fiasco: Larry Tee introduced with great excitement, from the choreographer of FischerSpooner (arguably the biggest name in electro today, why not make some use of them even if they're not actually here), a pathetic song with an even more pathetic dance of a group of seminude girls, moving in a cold roboti 80's unsexy fashion. The only thing that kept me there was the fact that Felix would be next.

And indeed he was, and he opened his set with 2 or 3 of his own tracks, to which the crowd responded with great enthusiasm.
I have this theory that the NY average audience is in no way interested in the music itself, and in anything remotely connected with it (i.e. dancing), and is only interested in showing itself off. So far nothing convinced me other wise, but Felix did get them excited. So he actually gave a nice set, that it's peak was "personal jesus" by Depeche Mode, to which the crowd responded extremely well, singing "reach out and thouch faith" out loud and cheering with great exuberance. He finished the set with "west end girls" of the pet shop boys.

I was definitely done with the evening. On my way out I managed to catch a glimpse of W.I.T, a trio of girls wearing silver 60's space age mini dresses with 80's Hairdos, but I was much more interested in peeing (for the 6th time in 4 hours) and getting the hell outa there.

When I stepped out to the fresh night air some guy gave me this flyer - "Soft Cell, Marc Almond, 1st U.S tour in 20 Years!"

why not, I say. He too deserves his golden age.