It was a balmy Sunday evening as I made my way to the Raccoon Motel in downtown Davenport. The streets were quiet, but I was headed towards enchanting sounds presented by my pals in Void Church. Void Church isn’t a band but rather a promotional company of sorts. More accurately, Void Church is an audio-visual experience for fans of goth, post-punk, shoegaze, psychedelia, industrial and other adjacent genres.
For roughly two years, this collective has put on numerous concerts and dance parties in Davenport that pair music with thoughtful décor including old tube TVs playing video montages, neon lights, fog machines, mannequins, VHS tape curtains, a disco skull and more. Between local and touring acts, projection artists, and DJs, they offer an opportunity for a scene outside of the metal, punk, and indie spheres that have dominated the Quad City landscape for most of my life.
I am absolutely here for it, and full disclosure, have helped decorate, load in DJ equipment and crafted a couple of batched cocktails for past events, though all of this is volunteer work for the love of the game. So, I paid my cover and was greeted to the bar TVs all playing neon green fire logs like a set of ectoplasmic floating fireplaces. The show I was there for was one I had been looking forward to for weeks: Public Memory and Clubdrugs.
The Sunday evening show was somewhat sparsely attended on this late summer’s eve, but those who were there were warmly welcomed with Clubdrugs’ synth-heavy goth pop. The Chicago duo played with no lighting, save for a projector screen, the faint glow of a laptop, and the even fainter glow of a novelty jack-o-lantern. Dense layers of analog and digital synthesizers and drum machines were met with ethereal vocals, heavily distorted bass and occasionally powerful guitar leads. The shadowed duo traded vocal duties that ran the gamut of eroticism, longing, morose lamentations and catchy choruses.
“This is our first time in Iowa!” they declared at the top of the show, but by the end Clubdrugs expressed adoration, “This is a cool scene and a cool venue! We are so thankful that we got to play this show. Keep making this magic happen!”
Fans of Clan of Xymox, Xeno & Oaklander, and Drab Majesty would do well to explore these dark bops, perfect for sweaty midnights and moonlit drives through sleeping cities.
While I was excited and satisfied with Clubdrugs, I was more strongly drawn to Public Memory. I had been listening to Public Memory since this show’s announcement and regret not doing so sooner. However, I was also shamefully unaware of who Public Memory was, and was shocked to learn that the trip-hop, goth and krautwave act was the work of one man, Robert Toher. Toher started his musical journey in punk bands, but began to favor more electronic impulses. Public Memory was born as an outlet for these curiosities and in four albums has made a remarkable body of work.
Seeing this performed live was a treat and a bit of a mindfuck. Again, the stage was set with no additional overhead lighting. However, Public Memory ditched the toy pumpkin, projector and laptop, favoring only a strip of neon green lights that wrapped around a bookshelf of synthesizers, samplers, drum machines and effects pedals. A microphone stand and minimal drum kit (floor tom, snare, ride cymbal) was off to the side.
While I could throw genres and microgenres out to describe Public Memory’s music, it really is better to experience it. This combination of trip-hop, witch house, dub and krautrock invokes a curious impulse to dance and get lost in the music that few live acts I’ve witnessed have been able to achieve, especially working with a DAWless setup. Toher’s mastery of his numerous instruments was mesmerizing to witness from the audience, let alone what it must look like from a bird’s eye perspective. If you’ve ever seen the anime Cowboy Bebop, where Spike’s fingers fly across the buttons and knobs of his spaceship with such speed and precision that you’re reminded that this is indeed animated fiction, then you can imagine the deft skill Toher employs while manipulating the keys and knobs of his arsenal.
Singing into his mic and using acoustic drums for embellishments adds to the performance. While he mostly favored songs from his 2023 LP, Elegiac Beat, his sparse stage banter introduced three new songs to close the set. The older songs stay true to hip hop and dub’s beat structure, but the previews from his latest work are even more thrilling. The first was a total departure of anything laidback into bouncy house rhythms that had the whole floor dancing, followed by a slightly slower garage-indebted beat complete with a reverb-laden woodblock sample that immediately called to mind Burial’s haunted beats. The closing song threw all of the previous work into a blender with a beat that was closest to breakcore, though still calmer than Venetian Snares’ eclecticism.
Both of these artists were enthralling to witness live, surrounded by faint green glows and a captivated audience. I highly recommend throwing Clubdrugs and Public Memory into your rotation as the Halloween season approaches, and of course, follow Void Church on Instagram or Facebook to check out upcoming events for the artsy-goth kid in your soul. You will never be disappointed.
Related upcoming event
Dancing Plague w/ Giallows & Glurge
Raccoon Motel | Oct. 15 | $15-20
The next Void Church/Raccoon Motel collab makes sense for the spooky vibes with a mid-October lineup described as, among other things, dark electronica inspired by vintage horror soundtracks.
