GODFLESH at DNA Lounge in SF (via)Maybe you don't like Star Wars, so you can't understand the pull to see any of the new films after three really bad ones. But you've probably had sex, and band reunions, especially ones as long overdue as Godflesh's, are like losing your virginity—you're not gonna not do it because it might be bad. In fact, you're brain is probably so amped on a cocktail of nostalgia and expectation (and maybe even drugs), you won't even know if it is bad.To top off all the unreasonable expectation, Godflesh were set to perform San Francisco on a day that just oozed auspiciousness: Easter Sunday which also happened to be 4/20 this year—drugs and divinity, basically Godflesh's theme. This is after years of visa complications, mental breakdowns and other priorities—like starting a family and starting new bands—had kept main dude Justin Broadrick from getting himself, original bassist G.C. Green and their Alesis drum machine (now brought to you via laptop) from returning to the States. A whole generation felt the long shadow of their influence but never got to see them live unless you're old enough to have been part of this (you aren't):So how was the Godflesh reunion? It was good. Really good, even, though having that kind of opinion about music like Godflesh's basically makes it seem ineffective; which, in a way, it was. That's not to say Godfleh's two humans weren't on point—they were, playing most of their "hits," including a blessed majority of their debut Streetcleaner with crunchy authority. And, my God, that drum machine was precisely the loud, nasty skull-rattling thing you'd hope it to be. Watching them live, however, a surprising and interesting fact emerged: Godflesh is run by its drum machine; like, really, just dictated by it. There's nothing they can do to these songs, not even on the subtlest level, to can allow them to veer from the script that the machine issues. Owing to the way one has to play their instrument in order to keep time with a machine, nothing like chemistry can really emerge, only re-creation.In a way, though, this is the perfect way to conduct a reunion show. No one really wants the band they love to change the songs that they remember. It's different when the band is an ongoing concern; people can learn to love an aesthetic evolution. And Godflesh did evolve, ending up something closer to Broadrick's next band Jesu by their final days. But a reunion after a breakup or formal dismantling of a band…I'm pressed to think of a band that really threw their audience for a loop, refusing or significantly altering their big jams. At this gig, Godflesh were mostly paying homage to the iteration of Godflesh that made Streetcleaner—that was the clear focal point.Long story short, a reunion is about rules and Godflesh—the Godflesh that scraped people's brains with Streetcleaner in 1989—were punk as fuck. It's hard to imagine the scrappy Justin Broadrick in the video up there growing up to retread old ground, play it safe, and give an audience exactly what it wants.Of course, that's a typical younger artist's game. It's likely Broadrick's at a point where he figures, fuck it, let's give that aforementioned generation of fans an experience they never got to have: seeing a Godflesh show. Done. Bucket list ticked. When you let go of the fact that something elemental about the band's philosophy is missing and lose yourself in the riffs, it is pretty damn cool and it was frankly astonishing how heavy they still sound. After Justin Broadrick closed out the show with some extended guitar feedback (of course he did) he got up to the mic to thank everyone, deeply and heartily so, for attending. Even with my qualms and hang-ups, I was so very thankful in that moment that I'd gone. It was like the first time I had sex—it was only okay and I was a bit distracted by a few things, but I didn't have the slightest notion that I maybe shouldn't have done it.
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