BACKSTAGE STORY

AN EXPERIMENT ON A BIRD IN

THE AIR PUMP...

Christina Millare helped herself to a can of beer in the cramped backstage room as her mate Simon Preen screamed, ‘You were fucking brilliant on stage tonight!’ Everyone nodded in agreement, she smiled appreciatively tugging on the ring pull of the can, warm beer fizzed, bubbled up spraying her tight skirt. ‘Fuck’ she said wiping herself down as she took a large gulp and relaxed back into the tatty sofa with her band mate and twin sister Charleen Millare aka C- Bird.

Herself X- Bird, along with C- Bird and D- Bird, real name Dee Sada are together known as An Experiment On A Bird In The Air Pump. She offered Simon a quick gulg as he passed an illegal ciggie round trying to blow the smoke away through a small vent. It had been a concentrated set to a packed house. Not surprising really because it was the last night of Camden’s cult club ‘Stay Beautiful’. Orchestrated by music writer Simon Price it was a destination point - a club for misfits and modern day freaks, the misunderstood. Reigning for a magnificent eight year’s on a Saturday night, musically it boasted a set list of rarities ranging from the glam to the sham, ironic artistic licence allowing. Simon Price could be seen in the rafters each week playing records as he mouthed the words to Soft Cell, The Smiths, T Rex and even Abba. He looked particularly spectacular this evening albeit with an air of sadness. His hair constructed into individual spikes-one either side of head, his influences came from a few era’s, a bit of punk, a bit of Goth perhaps, even a bit New Romantic, his masterpiece of hair being a trademark and making him instantly recognisable where ever he went. He melded together an image and had a courteous way about him creating a formidable presence in best possible sense. Here was a man with a real passion for music; you could just see it on his face, a bubble of joy when he played a track and watched his loyal crowd loose all restraint.

The Birds have been together for nearly a year now starting up as a house band for Dee Sada’s roving club night the Decasia. They met when the two sisters Christina and Charleen spotted Dee, they all thought the same thing… ‘We look like we’re related, lets start a band’. And it’s true they really do look like they belong. Curvaceous, pouty and oozing style… mesh fishnet cleavage and fingerless gloves, fringed black hair, sultry dagger eyes and voluptuous bodies encased in skin-tight fabric, manmade and otherwise. These girls really do look like a gang, somewhere in-between Russ Meyers’ ‘Faster Pussycat, Kill, Kill’ and John Walters’ ‘Female Trouble’.

I saw them once supporting Lydia Lunch over at the Corsica Studios in South London and they really did have a sense of timelessness, appealing to a varied crowd of post punk lovers of all ages even though they’re only in their mid 20’s! I’ve been following them round for a while now. The Birds have a stripped back set up, taking turns on drums, vocal and guitar. That on it’s own makes them pretty spectacular but the sound that emanates from them is something tunefully primal. They live on a mercurial planet of music. Rhythm and pulse solidifying like an oil slick seeping slowly down a crevice. Thick yet surprisingly glistening, reflective, shards of resonance spike into hopeful air. Melting spots of residue hang on the echo of drum and vibration. The howl of an ancient chant that tumbles into consciousness awakened by relentless drone and reverb.

With a fresh bottle of gin in her hand Dee at last breaths a sigh of relief as she enters the cramped backstage room. She pours herself a refreshing tipple into a plastic beaker offering the already crowded room a share of the booze. Her white lacy over the knee socks give her a school girl appearance as she laughs modestly at the encouragement she’s getting tonight all the while pulling at her statement socks self consciously, her mind on other things, like how the fuck she was going to get her drum kit back to Bethnal Green? Louis Bryne put an arm round Dee and told her drunkenly not to worry as she voiced her concern. ‘We’ll all help’, he said and with that gave her a big hug. ‘Yes, everything was going to be all right’, she inwardly voiced to herself. It was a great gig and now things were getting rowdy. Simon, Louie and their mate Peter Breen knocked back the remains of a bottle of cheap wine; the room decidedly smoke filled, a haze wafting above heads. Shrieks of laughter echoed down the hallway, as Dee Fodor approached the cramped vicinity having spent the evening on the balcony crowd watching. He loitered round the door way and as an alcohol filled plastic was thrust into his hand he viewed the backstage aftermath. ‘Where have you been?’ Louie lunged forward almost spilling the last drop of wine. ‘Oh, you know… just hanging around’. The night was coming to an end as the final moments of the club wound down. Cheers from an appreciative crowd ricocheted through the walls, the music fading fast. Outside late night street drizzle spitting with the threat of rain as The Birds loitered for the final round of goodbyes… Exit time on to a cold damp London night.

AN EXPERIMENT ON A BIRD IN THE AIR PUMP release ep ‘BUY A LIFE’ EP on Weekender Records (Download on i-tunes)