The Warlocks @ Cockpit
By Cathy Simpson
The stage is dark, and the unmistakable soundtrack from A Clockwork Orange starts playing, it goes on for ages. That music is so stylised and unique it automatically fills your mind with thoughts of lashings of the old ultra-violence, the glorious Ludwig Van, the Korova milk bar and the old in-out in-out. With this in mind seven rather gaunt silhouettes slowly assemble on the stage and stand there staring right at you just like your friend and humble narrator Alex in the film- only with eye make-up on both eyes. Bobby Hecksher has a face like thunder and looks in the mood for the ultra-violent himself, all this is before they've even played a note- you just know this is going to be something fantastic.
The synthesised Beethoven is phased down and the Warlocks crank up into a full on kicking of our senses- they are Alex and his droogs, our ears are the filthy old tramp in the subway, we don't stand a chance.
There's something really sleazy about tonight, the gig reminds me of how at the end of a relationship you start to hate someone but you still shag them. Tonight it feels like the Warlocks are shagging you but they hate you and they hate each other. Bobby gives the lyrics the passion and venom they deserve but it's obvious that it's at a cost to himself. He looks like he isn't having a good time he wants everyone (probably including his band) to fuck off, and he's gonna scream till he gets what he wants. But because neither we, nor his band are going anywhere he just has to deal with it, it almost looks like he's having some sort of primal scream therapy, and god, is it good to watch. He struts like Jagger, pouts like Bolan and drops to the floor like only he can.
The thing I like about the Warlocks is the magnitude of their sound, the two drummers on their 2ft high 60's style drumkits, are both playing pretty much the same as each other but making each beat sound like a gunshot to your temple. The counterpoint of the guitar parts means there's so much to listen to. Bobby stands centre stage like a dad trying to hold together his wayward and unruly kids, Corey dressed like some kind of English fop, JC rocking like the guitar windmill never went out of fashion, Laura courting the gaze of every man in the room and Bobby Martinez perfecting his doe-eyed rock pout. It's an imposing front line, and with the percussive equivalent of a firing squad behind them the Warlocks are real audio ultra-violence.
The set list includes Isolation, Red Rooster, Stickman Blues, new single Baby Blue, Shake the Dope out and Cocaine Blues.
