Oh, to still be plugging away when your movement is over. This is the story of Sex Gang Children. Mainstays of the so-called “Gothic” or “Batcave” movement of the mid-’80s, which was based on the Batcave nightspot in London, Sex Gang Children was one of a pack of bands that emerged from that scene.
Combining the campy glam of T. Rex with the horror elements of Bela Lugosi’s finest cinematic achievements, Sex Gang Children, Specimen, Alien Sex Fiend and a slew of lesser lights (or darks, as the case may be) were the toast of the rock underground.
Seven years ago, that is. In 1992, only those kids who missed the lurid original still turn out for these bands, and in the case of Sex Gang Children, there aren’t a whole lot, with the Roxy half filled.
The Cleopatra recording artists strutted onto the stage to the tune of “Tomorrow Belongs to Me,” the Nazi anthem from the musical “Cabaret.” Cute. And that was as threatening as they got.
Mixing a decidedly straight rock & roll groove right out of the New York Dolls, the band members showed their Brit roots proudly with their utterly stiff-lipped backbeat and bleated vocals.
Andi Sex Gang’s typically fey stage persona offered few surprises, but why should it? After all, at this point the band is a nostalgia show, and judging by the less-than-ecstatic reaction of the crowd, not a very potent one.
Openers were the local industrial trio Pressurehead, a pleasant pastiche of quasi-tech and sloganeering. With a legit frontman, Pressurehead might rise out of the mundane trap it’s settled in.
As for middle act Monkey Paw, its awfulness can barely be described. With a lead singer who was a humorless (but hilarious) cross between Pavarotti, Jello Biafra and Freddie Mercury, they were side-splittingly overdramatic and musically wretched.