Bambie Thug: Gorilla, Manchester – Live Review

Bambie Thug | The Darklings
Gorilla, Manchester
3rd September 2024

Oppositional in name and intersectional by nature, Bambie Thug plays Gorilla on their way to almost certain Pop stardom, and with brilliant support, will they cast a spell or be in toil and trouble? MK Bennett investigates.

Bambie Thug is an excellent name, possibly created using the same Wu-Tang name generator that Childish Gambino used, it does what Art does, gives us an immediate juxtaposition between light and dark, a glimpse into the music now that the feeding frenzy of the new must gift us it’s latest sacrifice.

The Darklings are as fresh as hatched eggs, on their third gig ever, and already adored, the duo make seemingly uncomplicated Dance Pop that belies the undertow of clever hooks and cultural references, musical and lyrical, a nod to Erasure, Shampoo, Pet Shop Boys and 90s dance anthems. They were popping with future brilliance, one big happy surprise. Watch this space.

Bambie Thug was simply extraordinary. Part dark pop fairytale, part ice queen, they commanded the Gorilla stage like an animal uncaged, initially sullen, for the act, you understand, before the open gratitude of the fandom here got the better of them. Bambie Thug, as explained in the spoken intro, is a church for all, intersectional and welcoming, a safe place for everyone.

A long electronic intro makes its way slowly to Hex So Heavy, heavily atmospheric, the air in the room hanging perfectly still, there’s little room to move, not that you would want to take your eyes off the stage, glorious as it is in red neon semi-crosses, a large throne dead centre and the most obvious star possible bearing their soul, drowning in metaphor. The cold blue Necromancy follows, bringing notice to the perfection of the purposed aesthetic, a SHOW IN BLOCK CAPITALS, honed to give the viewer maximum emotional reception, which is working in spades, judging by the reactions of my temporary neighbours.

Hierophant is blood red, and the aftermath of Carries Prom is an ugly violent red concerning the beauty of the music, the intricate spider scrawl of half-remembered trauma. The two masked dancers mirror and react, mirror and react. The wired and wiry torsos are presented as a blank slate, a comment perhaps on the general chorus line choreography and plastic Stepford wives manufactured approach taken by far too many. Those masks though are incredible, part Damien Hirst’s diamond skull, part Judas Priest wet dream, giving freedom to the dancers’ anonymity, silence in action.

Presented thematically as a trifecta, it works because of the songs but the staging is wonderful, costume changes and the divestment of robes, blinding white light, and the venue has not felt bass like this since the first time Danny Brown played here, real sub-bass you can feel deep in the bones.

Part one finishes with I Know What You Did Last Summer, a bona fide pop masterpiece, like Gary Numan meets Miley Cyrus with added Euro Pop, a skyscraping hook and a proper old-school breakdown, it should be/should have been huge, blaring from the doorways of every cheap fashion store outlet imaginable, every back seat bus journey home. Fitzgerald might be right about Americans but this song deserves a second act.

Part two, Witches Ballad, and Bambie Thug sings a simple stanza, Children Should Be Laughing, while flanked by the static dancers, Palestinian flags held aloft. It is heartfelt and affecting, a reminder of hard-won battles and the cycles of progression. Next up is what will ultimately set this artist apart from the rabble, instead of another standard set, however good, we get an interlude of surreal interactions, including the dancers’ erotic take on Psilocybin, which is the active chemical element of magic mushrooms, also used in certain studies to aid mental health, there’s the Hi-Viz segment, a Merch giveaway, more costume changes before Part 3 takes us back to the Show and the songcraft.

A set of slightly older material, including the magnificent Careless (“It wasn’t love it was just a fucking lesson”), it goes from sounding like Happy Hardcore to a Billie Eilish melancholia in a beat, while the whole evening’s excellent choreography shows itself between the words and lines. There are echoes of Peaches, Riot Grrrl, Pussy Riot, Garbage, the gothic drama of Death In Vegas, something a little industrial, Young Gods maybe, but with all this, the Pop sensibilities and gradual move towards modernistic Hip Hop beats mean this ever-changing music cannot be pinned down for long, from those Young Gods through to Young Thug, Migos or Tyler The Creator, from Egregore to Tsunami, the big Pop hook is never far away.

This incredible human is wholly aware that they are a cross between the Lydias (Lunch and Deetz), the dedication to the sound and aesthetics required to make this work, this attention to detail, makes the songs shine like diamonds. At the same time, the comfort of the image, where Metropolis meets The Fifth Element meets The Worst Witch is reflected in the adoration of those in attendance. An audience this vocal was not going to leave without an encore and their reward was Doomsday Blue, a Barbie Thug classic, and then, after just over an hour, there were none. It is as esoteric as modern pop gets, with a Five-star performance for all concerned, two sets of future superstars making the world a better place.

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All words by MK Bennett, you can find his author’s archive here plus his Twitter and Instagram

All photos by Adam Edwards. You can find Adam at his website |  Instagram and Facebook