Goths. An easy target but why on earth would you want to take aim?

It’s a wonder the fence doesn’t fall over with the number of people sitting on it but Chris Sherrington isn’t one of them as his second DV8 Festival this weekend proved.  For the uninitiated or those just plain in the land of the living, DV8 is pretty much a Gathering Of Goths.  Stonebow was infinitely improved this weekend. Respect, my man, and well done.

I don’t think I came across one person who wasn’t perfectly executing the tricky balancing act between one of the recently passed-away and having a ball at the same time. Not a cross word seemed to pass anybody’s lips whatever the hue.  Although, come on lads … red?

I wondered at the perfectly amiable gent in his later years sporting tight pink latex troos but he wore them entirely without irony or ironing, even cheerfully acknowledging a youngster at the bus stops who, as only small children speaking from the heart can do, piped up, “Mummy mummy mummy look at that funny man! What’s he got in his pocket! Is it some sweets?”  No, my dear. Definitely not. 

Eschewing a visit to nearby Marks & Sparks to accessorise, other members of the Club For Recently Deceased Males sported kilts amongst other items normally associated with the ladies. One chap came in what seemed to be his Gran’s nightie and Mrs Tiggywinkle on acid came to mind. I resolved to buy him a mirror for Christmas. Elsewhere, there was a riot of artfully torn black lace, flowing silk scarves, leather yes lots of leather, studied and studded boots to last a damned eternity and wedding dresses from hell. It all looked fantastic, and a world away from the Henley brigade in another part of the city - and they call that ‘normal’. Bah.

For myself at Fibbers, there wasn’t an act that didn’t demand attention but an obvious highlight was Sigue Sigue Sputnik with Martin Degville (who had a Muscovite’s appetite if you see what I mean) resplendent in yellow and what seemed to be three pineapples on his head. Robots In Disguise don’t give a toss if you like them or not and certainly don’t seek to disguise a confrontational shouty take on hook-laden pop.  Uberbyte and Grendel perfectly suited the well-thrashed Funktion-One system and of course Utah Saints still, I think, are relevant and well able to give pick-and-mix lessons in smart and smiley funk.

Hi-vis jacketed comedy act Mandr01d will not be performing for Wills and Kate any time soon unless they tidy up obvious crowd favourite “Heroin, Bumsex And Sausages” (a much better chant than ‘Yorkshire Yorkshire’) and upgrade their last song mass suicide audience ask. The atonal, sombre and faintly fey Spucktute’s piss take on Human League fans distracted me from … a bloke in a white t-shirt (where did HE come from???)  Elsewhere on the bill, Klaus Kinski look-alikes intoned like Vincent Price and impossibly tall thin males in 19^th century British Army red coatees, surgical smock/gaffa tape interfaces or a steampunk frock coat towered and swayed over tiny keyboards.  Such a refreshing change, wonderful and uplifting.

Lydia and Otho would have been delighted. DV8 DV8 DV8 – go on, say it three times and it will definitely come back.