Live Review: Princess Goes To The Butterfly Museum - Bedford Esquires, 02/12/2022
On Thursday 2nd December, the succinctly named Princess Goes To The Butterfly Museum descended on Bedford Esquires for one of a string of highly anticipated UK shows. When The Horn Blows were there to catch every near-hallucinatory moment.
But first, the support. Beija Flo, based in Liverpool, had a set that was part performance, part manic breakdown, and entirely captivating. Dressed in knee high red boots, tights and a leotard with elbow tassels, Beija Flo seemed as batshit crazy as a support for the eccentric Princess Goes To The Butterfly Museum should be. ‘I’m from Harlow’, she introduced herself — ‘until recently we were the most murderous town in Britain. We’re not twinned with anyone but we have a suicide pact with Slough’.
With stage pantomimes including the Yorick scene from Hamlet, a small hand butterfly flying away, jerky clockwork movements, and pirouetting like a ballerina, the show was as much theatre as it was music. Playing a mixture of tracks both family friend and... less so — Heads and Tails quickly followed by Second Hand Cock Rings — she was a blast of excitement on the otherwise frigid night. Yet the frenetic fun had its moments of introspection too, as she discussed suicide, mental health, loss and death, and shitty men. Her explanation? ‘Its a bit shit but we move’. A little nihilistic perhaps, but a concept entirely too relatable for anyone young enough to understand it.
As she started the final song, ‘Mary’, the uniquely talented performer seemed to have struck the perfect lyrics for a support as flamboyant, energetic, and just generally ‘great at everything’ — bar maths and science of course — as Beija. “I think I should come down”, she cried; “but I really like it up here.”
The crowd were entranced yet bewildered — yet flowers being thrown on stage from the crowd signified a group anxious for more.
Yet, understandably, their adoration for the young performer paled in comparison to their anticipation for the main act. Princess Goes To The Butterfly Museum — a name graciously given to the band by Matt’s young daughter — are as vaudeville as a band that met after meeting while working in a production of Hedwig and the Angry Inch. Emerging from backstage dressed in different takes on the glam rock outfit — Matt Katz-Bohen seemingly a cobweb brought to life, Peter Yanowitz wearing glittery scaled trousers and a dazzling headband, and Michael C Hall dressed as a patchwork harlequin, all black and white triangles on his shirt and white spotlights emerging from the blacked out pits of his eyes — the three seemed as dysfunctional as any attempt to describe their sound. ‘Sparks meets Nosferatu’, one offered; ‘kaleidoscopic sound weather’ another. I personally describe them as ‘Nick Cave meets New Wave’, but even that doesn’t come close to boxing them in. Indeed, starting by stretching along the floor of the stage, Michael seemed half rock God and half vagrant.
Yet when they began to play, magic occurred. From the opening notes of their set, which started with the unreleased ‘Offering’, the trio were a sight and sound to behold. Piercing synth tore through the venue as the night set off on its explosive journey, while second song ‘Vicious’ saw the band flit between bass heavy electronica and almost vaudeville-esque crooning. Meanwhile, the rows of lights shining through the oppressive smoke gave the entire venue an almost ultraviolet feel, as if the entire show was just a shared hallucinogenic fever dream.
The hypnotic Nevertheless followed soon after. Nevertheless, the music video for which resembles a cross between Tron and the brainwashing scene from Zoolander, seemed to steadily escalate in urgency and desperation as if the room was set to hit breaking point. The glimpses of orange and blue lights, meanwhile, made the song seem as if an early exemplar of old-fashioned 3D, giving the entire thing a distinctly retro feel. Follower ‘The Deeper Down’, and a personal favourite, only seemed to enhance this with the emulator-esque backing track.
The next few tracks seemed simply a lesson in disorientation. The ferociously distortion and bass-heavy Sideways had scarcely finished reverberating through the packed room before being replaced with the atmospheric and predominantly falsetto Airhead; meanwhile, the angst-fuelled, punk-like Angela Peacock was swiftly followed by the unreleased Take Me Home, a track as contemplative as it is enchanting. These contrasts reflected a band as unpredictable as they are genuinely gifted — the constant ebbing and flowing of genres and styles showed a band uniquely *themselves*.
Speaking of being unique, sandwiched between two more new songs — Blur, a fantastically energetic track which built into moments of pure exuberance, into which Michael C Hall’s excitement was near palpable, and Jet Pack, an almost languid song which quickly transitioned into a brutally dark affair — came Tomorrow’s Screams. The music video is them to a tee. Unbreakable water balloons, a toothpaste mosaic, many cans of silly string — the harmless chaos makes no sense but it’s impossible to look away. The live track is similarly enchanting — it was impossible to look away from.
This would ordinarily mark the presence of an encore — the moment where a band take a few minutes to themselves offstage, to freshen up while the crowd impatiently cry for more. Yet the three refused to this — instead, simply playing more songs, a decision well-received by the hundreds hanging on their every word.
The first track had possibly the best introduction of any song. ‘This song is called Thanks For Coming’, Michael informed us, ‘from the album Thanks For Coming. Thanks for coming’.
The track, a heady synth cocktail, seemed oppressive as it began to smother the crowd in its almost cult like utterances. Yet it served simply as the opening for the biggest surprise of the night, as keys were swapped for an acoustic guitar and Matt and Michael took front and centre to play the acoustic track Land of Make Pretend, a gentle, swooning number which could easily have taken centre stage at a campfire gathering.
The final track, the psychedelic Come Talk To Me, would not have been out of place on the discography of the Scissor Sisters. The groove-filled anthem also had the biggest crowd response; as much as anything because the lyrics were the same seven words jumbled up for three minutes.
It also enticed a sizeable number of the room to abandon their cares and dance, if only for a short while. And really, isn’t that what live music is all about?
A magnificent set from an amazing set of musicians, and a show that needs to be seen to be believed.
Words by James O’Sullivan
