William Control: Beautiful Hands Hiding Hot Knives

William Control, Combichrist
Studio Seven, Seattle, WA
04.21.14

In the waning hours of a Monday evening, northbound trains rattled through SoDo and continued to remind us of how far we’ve come. You may also take the opportunity here to question where we’re going, as we patiently sit and wait for this ghost of history to pass. Tucked away between two rail lines, and gravel, and rust, and industry, is Studio Seven. This venue provides not only live shows, but practice space for those who truly appreciate the advantage of soundproofed walls that are a foot thick. In all respects, Studio Seven lives a happy existence in SoDo making noise. And, stepping out of the Existentialist undercurrent in these puddles around my car (let it rain!), let’s get down to some real concrete human experience…

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William Control is a self-made man. He’s a hustler. He’s a king. He’s a preacher. He’s a sinner. Today, in Seattle, he is home. After releasing his new album The Neuromancer earlier this month, William Control takes sight and sound to a completely different level, where dark and lovely sweetly kiss on a dirty, crowded street. His music does not apologize, it does not forgive, nor does it ask for your blessing. It is without shame. William Control draws you in to the uneasy truth. The biting kind.

Taking the stage in a priest’s garb and delicately fingering a lit cigarette, he greets the crowd before kicking off his set with New World Order (A New Kind of Faith). William Control is a rare breed of entertainer. He is debonair and calculating, inviting yet reclusive; a come-hither smile while he is tidily wrapping his microphone cord around his neck. The crowd sang along as he seamlessly rolled through his set. Take the time to check out his vast portfolio – he boasts not only his own records, but produces other records as well. He has also released several books available on his website, Williamcontrol.com, and lends his voice to some of Poe’s greatest works, available on iTunes.

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Waiting in a dark hallway, going through their pre-stage motions, the members of Combichrist actively questioned why their intro music was so unnecessarily long. It was very long. Drummer Joe Letz took this time to stretch and prepare his body for the workout ahead. The anxious crowd got louder as the narrow tunnel emptied itself onto the stage and the members of Combichrist took their familiar spots. Get comfy, boys – it’s a 90 minute slot with 16 songs on the bill.

As the giant, chained speakers swayed eerily over the crowd, bodies and instruments began to fly. Members of New Year’s Day littered the stage and contributed to the banging of instruments before being tossed into the mad abyss. Letz turned in his performance for Stagehand’s Worst Nightmare, impartially throwing drums and drumsticks alike. His roadie spent 90 minutes in crisis mode. Combichrist’s selective face makeup could be an elaborate ruse to cover up their bruises, as the healthy pile of sticks under that drum throne can attest to. Black eyes or no, singer Andy LaPlegua didn’t lose any momentum in taking a moment or two between songs to chat with the crowd. Aggressive yet playful, their set did not disappoint.