Review from Sydney's tHE mETRO by Natasha Christian
Photos from Melbourne's Max Watts show by Brittney McCarthy of BM IMAGES
PUBLISHED FOR OUTSIDERS JOURNAL
It’s been 21 years since Beyond the Valley of the Murderdolls rocked our world.
She Was A Teenage Zombie and Dead In Hollywood quickly became high school anthems for disillusioned teens (like me) who were wearing striped socks on our arms, ripping even bigger holes in our fishnets and dying our hair the blackest black we could. Murderdolls and Wednesday 13 CD’s were stacked firmly alongside Marilyn Manson, Rob Zombie, Static X and Slipknot.
When Mr Motherfucker himself (Joseph Poole) announced he was resurrecting the band for a full Murderdolls nostalgia set, at first I wasn’t sure. I’d moved on, Leonard Cohen asked do you want it darker? and I said hell yes. But if I think of all the bands I like now, early 2000s Murderdolls x Wednesday 13 was a bit of a gateway.
A week before the show, I caught up with one of my oldest friends who could probably recite both Wednesday’s and Joey Jordison’s wikipedia page if asked. It reminded me of why I should go to a show like this, we had a lot of good times listening to those songs.
Then another friend gave me an offer I couldn’t refuse (a ticket) and I found myself back in 2002 singing Slit My Wrist oblivious to its deeper meaning.
The 2024 lineup featured some familiar faces with Murderdolls guitarists Roman Surman and Jack Tankersley joining the tour. Founding member Joey Jordison and drummer Ben Graves sadly are no longer with us.
The support was local glam x gothcore act Department of Gloom with their Type O Negative inspired synth sprinkled with Danzig and Motley Crue-esque vocals. While I missed a lot of their set, I saw DoG deliver a great, theatrical warm up, complete with satisfying striped arm socks and an early 2000s goth-rock fashion throwback.
The pre-show playlist had me bopping to Gang of Four and a few other post-punk bangers, but the choices didn’t feel right for a Wednesday 13 show.
While the Metro floor wasn’t as packed as other shows I’d seen recently (Descendents and Emperor), this crowd was certainly committed to the bit. It was a sea of black and red, studded low cut tops, overdrawn eyeliner and long wizard hair.
As I waited for the main event, I watched the guy in front of me take selfies with his tower of Jack Daniels. I counted at least 9 cans, a feat of alcohol-induced engineering that begged for a Jenga-like collapse.
The house lights turned blood red as the crowd burst into chants of “Wednesday” (later in the night there was one for Joey).
Wednesday 13 emerged with undeniable charisma, defying the sweltering Sydney heat in a wardrobe befitting a disciple of darkness, complete with Eric Draven inspired makeup while wearing head to toe black and red. His energy was infectious and reminded me a lot of Dani Filth and Gerard Way.
The set was mostly a mix of Beyond The Valley … and Women and Children Last from twisted love songs like Love at First Fright to the more morbid Graverobbing USA. Pieces of You stood out, with a melody seemingly born from the depths of listening to Pantera’s Walk on repeat (just a hunch).
We also got more banter during this set than I expected. It’s clear Mr Motherfucker is in his papa era.
He shared wholesome stories of his journey to Murderdoll, from the days of being booed off stage by Iron Maiden fans, to the chaotic recording sessions with Mick Mars. Revelations of his humble beginnings at Kmart added a touch of relatability for fans, most of us would’ve started somewhere similar (I started at Target).
The crowd left fuelled by the adrenaline of Dead In Hollywood and the unapologetic I Like To Say Fuck.
While nostalgia tours feel a bit excessive in 2024, watching Murderdolls all these years later felt like a rite of passage, a testament to the enduring legacy of early 2000s goth rebellion. It’s not something I expected to be talking about 20 years later, yet here we are.
Death of Art
