Specimen at Planet X, September 1983
"If the New York Dolls had started ten years later they might have been like this."
By 1983, goth bands were everywhere. I could never take them quite as seriously as they took themselves.
I preferred the bands who added a bit of glam playfulness to the mix. In London there was a club called the Batcave. In Liverpool we had Planet X, the new club set up by Doreen Allen who used to work at Eric’s. (Check out this 2019 interview with Doreen for a potted history.)
When Doreen put on Batcave stalwarts Specimen, I found them fabulously exhibitionist and was hugely entertained.
As Specimen singer Olli says in this mini local TV documentary: “It's about fun, and having your tongue firmly in your cheek”.
SPECIMEN
Melody Maker, September 24, 1983
Planet X, Liverpool
IT WAS the perfect response to what was going on. The girl crushed next to me at the front of the stage wasn't recording the sound: she was drawing pictures. It was a brave attempt in face of the whipping microphone lead and the teasing pouts advancing on us in such an enticing manner.
So Planet X becomes host to the Batcave for its first evening of live music, which is fitting since the Liverpool club, launched earlier this year, was inspired by the London - and some say that it's now surpassed it.
Support group Flesh For Lulu were suitably noisy but in an unconstructive sort of way, so that the only distinctive thing about them was a lead singer whose voice is a cross between Pete Burns and Marc Almond.
Unfortunately he lacked the style of either and the whole group seemed tentative about their image, while realising it was an essential part of their equipment. In the end they chose the use of hippy slogans about peace and love but didn't seem quite sure if they were supposed to be ironic or not.
I couldn't on the other hand take my eyes off Specimen. The synthesizer player is a creation in black of leather, net, and rips, with a face cosmetically sculptured into a malevolent mask, an impish Mephisto, impassive with occasional flashes of disdainful charm. Sometimes an apathetic finger stabs at the keyboard, sometimes he sits and rests, neglecting his post, exotically bored. The only action approaching the energetic is when, towards the end, there's a slight wrestle with the studded black leather snake that embraces his shoulders.
His counterpart on lead vocals is the warmth to match the cool. All action (mainly of the lips), he's an indecent assault on audience sensibilities, a startling concoction of snakeskin, fishnet, beads, paint, and lots of flesh. It's the attention to detail though that makes him truly wonderful to look at: the red devilish tail attached to the back of the costume; the false eyelashes; and, best of all, in his belt where most people keep bullets he keeps lipsticks.
If the New York Dolls had started ten years later they might have been like this.
Of course there's not the strength of musical identity, but there's enough there to make them almost as entertaining as musicians as performers. I expected a one-dimensional sound but the songs do vary - "Syria" has a tune, "Wolverines" hasn't (but makes up for it in atmosphere). The mixture of gothic and glam (and other unidentified additions) makes a brew that bubbles like molten lipstick and actually tastes quite palatable - and powerful.
It makes me laugh enough to remember the pioneers of the punk days: when exhibitionism and enthusiasm mattered most; when the group could be upstaged at any moment by the audience; and when whatever was being celebrated could never be taken too seriously. When was I the last time I was so honestly entertained? Too long ago.
Specimen photos by Mick Mercer
The pics on this page come from Mick Mercer, whose Substack Mick Mercer’s Panache, is a must for any fan of goth and post-punk. He has a wealth of amazing photos from that period.
Mick wrote for Melody Maker around the same time as me but our paths didn’t cross until we met on Substack. Isn’t the internet wonderful?
One of the things that's sorely missing these days is people writing about "being there" at the ragged edges of new music scenes being born. They are being born,constantly; but soon perish for lack of anyone talking about them. Thank you for drawing attention to what that talk should be like.
I loved this piece, this really took me back because the music did little for me but I loved the costumes: "I couldn't on the other hand take my eyes off Specimen. The synthesizer player is a creation in black of leather, net, and rips, with a face cosmetically sculptured into a malevolent mask, an impish Mephisto, impassive with occasional flashes of disdainful charm."