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Facebook Victim Pop

by Roger Young, illustration by Alistair Laird / 07.07.2010

Thinking that you’ve just discovered androgyny is not an excuse to make tinny Facebook victim pop. Magic of Pegasus have tarted up ROAR like the opening night of a school play and they’re as embarrassing as that hot guy you once liked who was as an actor in that play. There are a lot of people on the stage and the two teenage approximations of Lynch girls harmonizing have deeper voices than lead singer, Graham Newlove, and they’re even painfully high and flat. He keeps calling it an extra terrestrial sex party, he keeps telling the audience to fuck but what he doesn’t seem to understand is that you just can’t force fucking like that.

Saying that Magic Of Pegasus are crap kinda feels like rising to the bait. I get the feeling that they want to be called crap, like it’s one big fucking joke. They’re so painfully self conscious that you want to slap them; why this makes me actually like them, as people, I have no idea. Their little shout outs to Evol scenesters, like Julia Roberts look alike Mavuso, are embarrassingly affected and in the end totally endearing; the kind of endearing that make me want to ass-rape them, but you know, in a loving manner.

The lead singer guy shouts, “I hate Music, I love drama”, and it makes sense, because what else do you say if you really aren’t making any music. Let’s not even talk about the computer speaker optimized Girls meets Soft Cell lite sounds coming from the general direction on the stage; sounds that are so infatuated with higher frequencies that they are as sonically insubstantial, as fey as Newlove is. Let’s instead talk about that big black box in the middle of the dance floor.

Standing in back it seems like there is crowd down front but as you make your way forward (through the couple in the papier-mâché top hat and witch hat doing the pagan sun worship dance with locked eyes) you discover that the bulk of the space stage centre is taken up by a large black platform that eats up most of the dance floor. Its there purely for above the crowd guitar poses but what it actually does is separate the audience from the performance, willfully obscures it. And that’s what Pegasus seem to do best, full of bluster they do their best to keep you away from the actuality of the performance, they never transcend the artifice, they never actually reach out and touch the audience in any way.

Standing there down among all the auditioning fag hags staring up adoringly into Graham Newlove’s little doe eyes, I feel guilty for being taken in purely by the façade of the exploration of sexual identity while knowing full well the music is totally forgettable. Now that they’re playing with a full band, it seems to highlight even more what was missing even back when they were mostly electronic, Magic of Pegasus need songs that can live on in our hearts after the glitter has been swept away.

Images © Leon Visser & Louisa Hong.

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