More of an exhibition/installation than gig
Gazelle Twin - Live At Electrowerkz, London by  Helen F Kennedy

In a similar vein to her odd yet alluring debut album, ‘The Entire City’, Gazelle Twin (aka Elizabeth Walling) continues to dispose of all convention going into her live performances. The audience are made to wait outside of the venue until the group arrive – seven of them in total strung out in a line, hands clasped respectfully in front, all dressed like they have fallen out of the costume wardrobe of a Monty Python film.

Despite ‘The Entire City’’s esoteric undertones, its critically acclaimed status has not been without warrant. Cutting a similar cloth to Fever Ray and Bjork, Walling’s haunting, warbling and encapsulating electronica is on a par to that of her peers; and with her ‘look’ inspired by the Surrealist painter Max Ernst’s alter-ego ‘Loplop’ (the album’s name was also taken from a series of his work), Walling is Brighton’s version 2.0 in fembot acts, with a show that is more of an exhibition/installation than that of a gig.

Opening with ‘View Of A Mountain’, its brooding score envelops the curious air that surrounds the venue as she stands with her back to the audience, rocking back and forth in a séance-like manner to the beat. Visually, the audience is transfixed by the direction of the show (those on stage moving very little, while two dancers in fencing masks slither across the dancefloor in time); musically, they are strung up by the set’s spellbinding arrangements.

As beguiling as Gazelle Twin are when in full flow, there are moments of real awkwardness when the tracks end. Their spell somewhat broken by the final note and rapturous applause that follows, only to be met by a tense silence as the next track is cued.

Singles ‘I Am Shell I Am Bone’, ‘Changelings’ and ‘Men Like Gods’ strike the heaviest chords with their otherworldly vocals and menacing synths and strings, in show that captured the audience, strapped them to a rocket, and shot them in to Walling’s wonderful world and back.

Words by Thomas A. Ward
Photo by Helen F Kennedy


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