Note: This was written about a year ago from this post. I was planning on submitting it as a writing sample to Obscura Undead, but I was too chicken to move forward with sharing it.  Obscura Undead is a network of DJs primarily located in the Tampa, FL region who spin mostly Goth, Post-punk, Deathrock, Dark Wave, Synth etc. In our pre-pandemic world, they hosted Goth nights and concert events in the Tampa/Orlando region, but currently stream weekly events (a real treat for us who cannot attend in person due to geographical limitations). Plus, they release YouTube videos that either feature goth related news, album review or discussions critical to the Goth subculture. At the time, they were looking for more collaborators to contribute to their website.

Part of the reason I created this website/blog/page whatever you want to call it is so I can have a means to share my writing. I wanted to stop worrying my writing wasn’t good enough and just allow my self to make mistakes, receive criticism but also receive credit where credit is due.

Many concert goers would agree the best performances are usually the ones that involve an artist they are intimately familiar with or one that they can easily identify by at a few of their songs.  These individuals flock to shows that pumps them full of energy as they bounce about the venue with reckless abandon or provide a digestible and often predictable set-list and presentation. Most consumers expect an “enjoyable” or “fun” experience (Whatever the hell that means).  But what if a musical performance was not meant to lull you into a familiar bubble of comfort and self-satisfaction. What if music was a gaseous element meant to permeate the holes in your psyche in order to jolt you into a new reality? Perhaps, the dulcet tones you anticipate morph into a nightmare, or a cacophony of cries?

Music is doing its job when it makes you feel uncomfortable and puts you on edge. By uncomfortable, I don’t mean disagreeable lyrics or cringy story lines.  What I mean is the atmosphere an artist creates within the universe they have carved out for you that twists your stomach and overcharges your senses. This is not a game of color by numbers as you run though track 1 to 2, from 2 to 3 and so on and so forth.

Seth Sher and Heather Gabel of HIDE accomplish this feat of creating discomfort and uncertainty at their Saturday November 9^th  2019  show in Louisville , KY show. The venue, Art Sanctuary, structured their multipurpose space into an intimate event.  Art Sanctuary serves as the current throne for Convergence Festival’s 2020 reign and is tailor made for such experiences. Zigzagging amongst the gallery’s current installments lurked a layer of fog. While a modest space, the sparseness and outline of the current structure lent to the ambiance and uncertainty.  To date, I have seen HIDE at a second venue, Northside Yacht Club in Cincinnati, OH, and the feeling of dread still hangs heavy in their performance space.

During their performance, HIDE absorb the energy from their minimal space as Heather moved through the coordinated light, sound and movement. It felt real, yet unpretentious. Effortless, yet jerky. Her occupied space, which was not even an elevated stage, put her at the same level of the audience and was smaller than that of a caged animal from a traveling circus.  Heather commanded the space with the same intensity and frustration as a tiger.  When her eyes locked with mine, it felt as if she was ready to pounce. I was so engrossed I didn’t even think to take a picture or record the performance. I was too personally involved in the experience, mouth agape and right hand gripping my PBR can more tightly than usual.

After their set, I visited Heather at the merch table. She was very approachable and less threatening than her on stage persona.  I gushed over my love of their album “Castration Anxiety” and picked up a ‘Hell is Here’ t-shirt which I wore during Thanksgiving dinner with my family (I think the message was well received).

This is the most appropriate way to experience an act like HIDE. Their performance evoked pure feeling of dread and discomfort.  Listening to their music in the car or their latest release on vinyl, did not prepare me for their live performance. It’s a lot like waiting on the other side of a door where someone or something is pounding, waiting to get in. Now, the door has been knocked down, the fog is rolling in and you have no clue what is standing in front of you. Your heart is racing, and you are not quite sure if you want to run in another direction or stick around to see what will happen next.