Dengue Fever at Scala

Dengue Fever at Scala

22 June, 2009
by: Claire_loves_jam

It's a balmy summer's evening in King's Cross and I'm transported back to a time where contemporary rock and rollers ruled the rooftops whilst bombs fell on Phnom Penh.

LA sextet Dengue Fever are unleashing their inimitable blend of Cambodian psychedelic surf rock onto a rapturous gaggle of Londoners squeezed into Scala's main room and, judging by the turnout, mainstream success is more imminent than I thought. The night consists mostly of songs plucked from the band's third album, 'Venus on Earth', alongside some I don't recognise but find myself swaying to nonetheless.

In fact, I even spy a little hip gyration from my friend Alex, whose declarations of dance-phobia I've endured on more than one occasion. A triumph indeed.

The sheer hypnotic and penetrative quality of lead singer Chhom Nimol's vocals leaves you blissfully nonplussed as to the significance of her lyrics, although 'Tiger Phone Card' and 'Sober Driver' get an enthusiastic response from the crowd. Rejecting her native Khmer for a mischievous interplay in English with guitarist Zac Holtzman, the cheekily unravelled tales of long distance relationships and wayward drunken antics leave us gasping for more.

Like their namesake, Dengue Fever are infectious, virulent and invasive. Most of the crowd is dancing, whether they want to or not, and the band embodies a bizarre yet intriguing persona onstage. Nimol's wedding dress-like attire shimmers under the lights, bassist Senon Williams leaps about the stage in a frenzy and Zac Holtzman's beard alone deserves a mention. Trust me, it's really something.

The cheerful, energetic and almost peppy live performance sits in stark contrast to the infinitely trippy quality the recorded music exudes. Any visions of swirling, psychedelic backdrops of orange and fuchsia are smashed, but we're OK with that.

Vigorous stomping and cheering brings the band back for an encore performance of 'A Glass of Wine', at which point four excited Cambodians in the audience are hauled up onto the stage for a sing-a-long session. Every non Khmer speaking person in the room breathes a sigh of relief and we stick to what we do best - humming and waving our arms in the air.

Two failed attempts at showing the band's documentary 'Sleepwalking Through The Mekong' don't dampen the night for me. The Holtzman brothers first discovered the '60s and '70s Cambodian sound whilst on holiday some years ago and, thanks to the dogged perspicuity of their vision, it's resurrected and alive on stage tonight.

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Claire_loves_jam