We caught Crystal Castles in Springfield with an art gallery filled with jumpy college kids, some of whom looked like the crowd from Misshapes a few years back. A few guys even rocked the Ziggy Stardust look pretty hard.
There were an inordinate number of the gays in attendance for this dance music, delivered by two shadowed figures fronted by an alien with pixie hair and heavy eye makeup. I fancied her one of those women who, like Ageyness Deyn, is mostly appreciated by other women and gay men: she’s thin, androgynous, and seems kind of crazy. I couldn’t imagine her stooping to the vulgar act of coitus; alien sprites are probably not much for fucking. At one point she halted her spastic, strobe-enhanced movements to fall down with her legs splayed. Because I am a perv, I looked up her skirt but saw only the cobweb-white webbing of her tights. I thought this a fitting metaphor for her… that is, until one of the guys in my crew expressed his immense desire to bone her. All metaphors fall apart at some point, I guess.
Sexual ambivalence aside, they killed it. It was one of the craziest performances we’ve gotten to watch so far, both in terms of musicianship (tight as fuck) delivery (wild-eyed, yelpy) and visuals (now-I’m-over-here strobes). We’ve been listening to their new album of demented dancey electro heavily, and it’s helping lift the funk that sinus infections and a ton of rain have cast upon this merry band of nerds.
