Dirk Diggler Reviews "Pregnancy at Cafe Otto"

Dirk Diggler is a man about town. He was there with Laura Les. Crimes. Etc. A time when hollywood Sups were still watching nickolodean. But he's back now - hes back for the return - and he says its angry. Pregnancy is pissed, not abortive. Chloe is wearing a tam o' shanter with ultra maximalist yelling piercing screaming barely breathing takes. Governer vomit is sat on the ground with an affects pedal as she chest bumps the crowd.

Thanks dirk, another stinger from the diggler.

Pregnancy are fucking sick btw.

Currently sitting in an airport lounge, in many respects the epicentre of western civilisation, waiting to go into the sky, all is wipe-clean, smooth, 100% surveilled. Everyone has been x-rayed, scanned, recorded, photographed and ID'd, so I can be very sure this is me, sitting here, alone, it's utterly peaceful, boredom is total, the apex model of how society is becoming. I have time now to reflect on one of the most urgent, stimulating, hectic, angry, stunning gigs I've been to, well since the last time I saw Pregnancy at Reject All, organised by Ruth Angel Edwards and Adam Gallagher, the week before.

The Cafe Oto gig, hosted by the always brilliant TLC23 (Keira Fox and Katie Shannon) took place on good Friday, we need Jesus's suffering to stand as a representation of sacrifice. The current world view of horrific slaughter in Gaza, Lebanon, Ukraine, Iran is way more than enough. The murder lovin' billionaires are inflicting their selfish desires for yet more unimaginable wealth, their greed is our suffering.

Anger is the mood, the age of rage is now. Pregnancy boil this fury down into 3 minute bursts of frenzied hyper punk pop. Maugile and Governor Vomit have crafted their sound from what may have been left over from the semi demise of Hyperpop's mini era of the 2010's culminating in the outstanding Haunted by Laura Les in 2021. But Pregnancy take things further, much further. All the recent musical cores get condensed down into unrelenting hammers of rhythm and throbbing synth blasts that don't stop hitting, the feelings of terror and joy combine under this relentless pressure to force the mind to let go and release all concerns. Chloée leaves it all on the floor, so much so that by the final track she is literally glitching like a broken mp3 file, but it's in time with Governor Vomit's industrial strength barrage of ultra mega hyper maximalist total ear storm. The crowd can't help themselves, their willing madness bursts into deranged freedom, almost epileptically rejoicing in the totalpermission to not give a fuck. Not since the days of Sunrise raves or Butthole Surfer gigs have I been forced so urgently out of my own canister to join with the other souls with my sweat, screams, and rapture. Cafe Oto, being the considerate venue, hands out free ear plugs, I thought this was funny, condoms for the ears to avoid pregnancy? I recommend going comando, nothing should ever get in the way of such fucking brillance.