DOWN FOR THE COUNT?

Well, the results are in – and they’re not good. After an underwhelming return at the box office for ‘Renfield‘, it’s now clear that ‘The Last Voyage of The Demeter’ has had an even worse run – its opening weekend in the US being so poor that it’s UK release has been shelved indefinitely. This now makes two consecutive Dracula movies – three if you include last year’s lacklustre, millennial-baiting ‘The Invitation’ – that have failed on the big screen. This has understandably begun to raise several questions for Drac fans.

The first being – is this bad news for Universal? Oh, yes it is. You betcha. This abysmal run just underlines the fact that Universal have absolutely no idea how to curate their monster legacy, and although their plans for a ‘Dark Universe’ came to naught they have nonetheless made a ‘Lose Shirt-iverse’ a reality. With modern cinema increasingly dominated by legacy franchises, Universal are seemingly unable to use their own heritage to any advantage whatsoever. You’d have to go back to ‘Dracula Untold‘ for any of their monster films that had any traction, and there have been many a poor product in that vein since; and of course it’s the Count who bears the brunt of this, as Dracula films continue to surge down the pipeline whereas films featuring the Mummy or Frankenstein’s Monster are now practically once-in-a-generation events. Dracula is just the symptom and not the cause, the go-to product-button that only demonstrates that the hit machine has broken down.

Does this mean that audiences have grown bored of Dracula? Well, that’s a trick question – because audiences have always been bored of Dracula. So ubiquitous has the Count been since the 1920s that they were bored of him in the late ’30s and ’40s and ’50s, and from the late ’60s all the way up to the early ’90s, and through most of ’00s until today. You’d have to go to the Universal and Hammer originals, and the Coppola reboot (and to a lesser extent the Langella revivals of 1979) for movies that caught the general attention of the public. There is a lot of Dracula product around, after all, and not all of it can hit the jugular. The fact that he is still inspiring filmmakers today only proves his enduring appeal on a level beyond the cutting edge, now almost cliché.

But did the absence of his name from the titles of these films undermine their popular appeal? This may seem to underestimate the intelligence of the general cinema-going public, but it is nonetheless probably accurate. Dracula may be a figure from literature, but he is essentially a movie monster of a similar standing to King Kong or Godzilla; people come to the movies just to see him. And you don’t find Godzilla starring in movies called (say) ‘The Tea Party‘. Without a Dracula movie having Dracula in the title, you are not only burying the lead but also nailing the coffin shut.

Then there is the odd position of Dracula in the narratives of these films themselves. The Count is in the unusual position of being the star, but rarely the protagonist (it’s mainly Vlad Tepes origin stories or romcoms that feature him as the hero), and although his name is on the cover of the book he isn’t even the main character in that. With both ‘Renfield‘ and ‘...The Demeter” the focus is on second or even third-level characters from the book, and the Count is not central to the development of the narrative (although he is nonetheless an important figure in them). So whether these are Dracula films at all in the conventional sense is probably debatable.

Nonetheless they are new takes on the story, and that is clearly an attribute that the franchise desperately needs. Ultimately, as anyone left frustrated by the overnight cancellation of the UK rollout of ‘Demeter‘ can testify, there can be little wrong with the franchise that actively committing to, and (vitally) actively promoting a Dracula vehicle wouldn’t cure.

In any case, with the eagerly anticipated Robert Eggers remake of ‘Nosferatu‘ around the corner, maybe we won’t have to wait too long for the next bonafide classic in the Count’s tradition to fly through the bedroom window of cinemas.

MANY STRANGE GIGS: LED ZEPPELIN AT LIVE AID

They said it couldn’t happen; then they wished it hadn’t happened. So what exactly did happen to Led Zeppelin at Live Aid?

The band arrived in the mid-’80s with their reputation not just intact, but enhanced in the five years since the split which saw them become the templates for hard rock stadium-fillers the world over; and that legacy had mainly been established during their imperial golden age, where their occult-laced blues-powered sound laid the basis for modern rock radio and the supergroup seventies. It was only from 1975 that their luck had turned sour – from Robert Plant’s car crash which led to him being airlifted into tax exile on a crate, to their disastrous 1977 US tour when the band began to descend into outright gangsterism and ended in a court case for assault, to the sudden death of Plant’s son, to Jimmy Page’s heroin addiction and John Bonham’s alcoholism. Even their comeback shows at Knebworth in 1979 ended in litigation that drove the promoters into bankruptcy. The band had become a magnet for relentless negative energy, trapped by the repercussions of their own decisions. By the time they began to get their house in order in 1980 – their European tour featuring shorter songs, simpler lights, and skinny ties – John Bonham would die after drinking 40 vodka & oranges during a rehearsal. The band’s disbandment after his death was, as everyone agreed, probably for the best.

Since then, Robert Plant had launched an MTV-friendly solo career that saw him consciously distance himself from the Zeppelin legacy, Jimmy Page had struggled with addiction and to launch his own project, bassist John Paul Jones was in virtual semi-retirement, and the Zeppelin brand was bigger than ever. The music industry wanted them back, but the band (and especially Plant) weren’t interested. So how did they all end up on stage that hot summer’s day in Philadelphia?

The answer being that in summer 1985 the Live Aid hype train was running over all and sundry in the industry, making all sorts of unlikely reunions happen – everyone from Queen to Black Sabbath were back – and the band’s oft-overlooked streak of loyalty to their industry supporters saw a personal plea from promoter Harvey Goldsmith seal the deal. So, against everyone’s best interests and better judgement, it was on: Led Zeppelin were back.

There were, obviously, a few immediate decisions to be made – such as who would fill in for the late, great John Bonham. They opted for former Chic drummer Tony Thompson, an inspired choice which hinted at a potential bridge to a more contemporary sound that avoided the more obviously dunderheaded metal clichés of the time. After that, however, it started going downhill, as John Paul Jones opted to eschew the bass and opt for the keyboards. A straightforward enough decision on it’s own, his bass role being filled by Paul Martinez (from Plant’s touring band), but that would nonetheless mean they would be going on stage in front of 89,484 people at the JFK Stadium with an entirely new rhythm section.

Then, of course, there was the Phil Collins thing. Collins was to play at both Live Aid shows on the same day, travelling by Concorde between them, and at some point it was arranged that he would also join the band to form a twin-drum attack with Thompson. Was this a case of the Live Aid promoters exploiting Collins’ star power and team-player ethic, or another example of self-insertion from an increasingly ubiquitous egomaniac? Either way he did not know the songs, and had to learn them on the plane over; and if the five-piece only had two hours of rehearsals on the day, Collins himself had none at all. Clearly, some bad decisions were being made.

And then, between Collins’ solo set and Crosby Stills Nash & Young, Led Zeppelin came on stage for the first time in five years – Collins introducing the band individually, then the curtain rolling away to huge applause. The band immediately look confused, Plant following up “Good EEEEEVNING!” with “There will now be a short intermission whilst I get some monitors”. Page had a guitar placed upon him, but not necessarily his guitar. The stage is full of thuds, bumps, and cracks, then some out of tune thrums on Page’s guitar.

Then, ‘Rock & Roll’ begins with little fanfare, Page appearing to be in a running battle with a mic stand, Jones starting the set on bass, and Plant’s voice breaking every time it rises above the conversational range he began with. The two drummers plod on through each of the songs numerous breakdowns, seemingly afraid to risk attempting any themselves – then it becomes apparent that Page’s guitar is out of tune and barely audible through the chaotic sludge of the performance. The band sound absolutely terrible.

“What a day, yes? Any requests?”, Plant teasing the audience before the band grind backwards into ‘Whole Lotta Love’ – clearly considered a safe bet, but not now that the band had murdered their easiest song. The breakdowns were now out of time, uncertain, Collins having the furrowed brow perplexity from every bar musician playing the last request of the night. “Way down inSaDhe!!!…”, Plant screams into the void, voice breaking, the singer clearly looking like damage limitation is now the order of the day. The song continues for what seems a tortuously long time, the band unable to even finish on the same beat. Historically it was the worst single performance the band have ever done – and to proceed into ‘Stairway To Heaven’ after that wasn’t so much hubristic, as downright suicidal.

But, due to a combination of a fresh guitar and no drums, it begins in decent enough form, a performance seemingly coming from a place of sheer muscle memory. “Does anyone remember laughter?” , Plant dusting off his standard ad lib. But then the drums enter with the combined grace of a drum kit being thrown down the stairs, Martinez struggling to find the downbeat in the uncoordinated haze of noise, and the middle break so dazed and becalmed that it takes Page sixteen bars to begin his solo afterwards. By the time Plant begins the last verse he looks relentlessly miserable, as the band begins what is essentially a slow motion collapse around him. And then…that was it.

Despite the ravings of the studio VJs afterwards (“You can’t help but wonder what will happen to those relationships after today!”), it was surely the feeblest attempt at a show over the entire event – and even harder to accept considering that their Birmingham friends-cum-rivals Black Sabbath had absolutely cleaned up with a triumphant set earlier in the day.

Following the show – universally considered today to be an absolute disaster – and with the Led Zeppelin peace compact irrepairably shattered, things got more than a little intense. An attempt was made by Plant, Page, Jones and Thompson to create new Led Zeppelin music, but personal differences and a post-party car crash for the drummer meant it ended up with nothing; then Plant began to raid the Zeppelin riff collection to spray samples liberally over his solo material, much to Page’s chagrin; another reunion show for the Atlantic Records anniversary in 1987 was only a negligible improvement on their previous attempt; and a Plant – Page reunion without Jones was a huge mid-’90s success. We would have to wait until 2007 for a full, proper Zeppelin show worthy of the name – which is where their legacy currently rests.

But how much better would that legacy be without this disastrous show? As it stands, through a combination of apathy and hubris, Led Zeppelin were probably the only heritage act to come out of the Live Aid experience with their reputation diminished.

“What a day, yes?” Quite, Percy. Quite.

WE WATCH THE SUN GO DOWN…

Shockwaves have yet again recently emanated across the UK goth scene from drama ground zero on the North Yorkshire coast, as Tomorrow’s Ghosts festival – the current version of the flagship goth event at the Spa Pavilion in Whitby – will not be running a spring/April edition of the event from next year, thus ending the cycle of twice-yearly goth events at the venue as part of the long-running Whitby goth festival/gathering/clusterfuck. A statement by the promoters sited increased costs for themselves and the audience as the reason for the decision, which although not impacting events by other promoters over the weekend does nonetheless mean that the largest goth event in the UK is being cut in half.

Of course, to some degree this is only the second decision relating to the event that has any degree of rationality following that first, fateful decision to pass the running of the Spa shows onto the current event from Whitby Goth Weekend in 2018. It has always been an odd kink (one of many, no doubt) that the Whitby goth festival is unique in happening twice a year; after all, every notable cultural event in British life, from Burns Night to the FA Cup final, happens just once a year. Similar events such as Damnation, Infest, and Rebellion also only happen annually; UK goths are seemingly unique in making their pilgrimage to Whitby twice a year, considering that even the Hajj only happens once every twelve months. On the face of it, this looks like a sudden attack of common sense.

It is worth noting, however, that we got to this position through the initial runaway success of Whitby Gothic Weekend in the first place. Demand for the early festivals in the ’90s was so great that as early as 1997 the festival began running April events alongside the autumn ones, and that even those events were so successful that overspill shows had to be arranged for other venues at the same time. Although generally considered slightly quieter than their ‘Halloween’ counterparts, and catering for the overspill was gradually taken on by other promoters in the town, it still saw both The Damned and Paradise Lost make their WGW debuts and was an essential component of the multi-million pound gothic industry around the event. It was also arguably the failure of the April 2018 event in a reduced-capacity Spa that led to WGW losing the franchise at the venue. So for the April event to vanish now does look somewhat odd.

There may, however, be more to it than first seems. When Tomorrow’s Ghosts took ownership of the Spa events (initially under Absinthe Promotions) they provided solid line-ups based around proven headliners – Fields of the Nephilim, New Model Army, and Wayne Hussey headlining their first three events, as well as Peter Hook & The Light and many others. New promoters Ghostwriter Consultancy, who took over after the October 2021 event, followed the winning formula but over their first three events also booked Fields of the Nephilim, New Model Army, and The Mission (featuring Wayne Hussey). The number of headliners fitting the bill to deliver the box office clout required to fill the Spa is now seemingly reduced to a shallow and diminishing pool of legacy acts.

It is also worth noting that Ghostwriter decided to forgo the April 2022 event in order to prepare for a Halloween 2022 launch, and after running in April 2023 have already decided not to run in April again, meaning they will have only run an April event once – and that was a sell-out. If the numbers can’t justify running it again after such a success, then that must be of concern to followers of the festival.

It therefore appears that the Whitby event may be reaching its Event Horizon – a festival that is outrageously successful, and is too big to fail, but which is now making the task of running its core event increasingly impossible. A full town on festival weekend doesn’t necessarily translate to a full Spa without headliners of sufficient stature, which leads to increased costs for the promoters, and then accordingly for the audience, who are facing accommodation costs that are now verging on the extortionate; and the removal of the April event will surely only make October’s even busier.

Exactly where the event can go for oxygen to survive this bottleneck is, at best, unclear at the time of writing.