expérimental / contemporain / Grindcore / Jazz / Métal

FIJM | Clown Core: the theatre of extremes, between Pennywise and Krusty

by Frédéric Cardin

Clown Core is a duo of anonymous musicians wearing clown masks who have achieved cult status since 2010. Despite only three albums, the longest of which is 17 minutes long, their totally truculent homemade videos (in a chemical toilet, in a van, etc.) and, above all, their violent mix of genres have made Clown Core famous among a fringe of the underground.

The two guys (we assume) from Nevada set the M Telus alight last night. How do we describe the CC product? Musically speaking, they go from hellish grindcore with added free jazz to cheap muzak, from deep growling to childish post-polka ritornello, without any transition and in flights of fancy that last no more than a few dozen seconds, for the most extended. Spiritual heirs to Mr. Bungle, less intellectual. All this with saxophone, drums and electronics.

But there’s so much more to a Clown Core show. The visuals and staging are reminiscent of trash-absurdist art, happening style. High art and low art copulating wildly. A giant screen projects images at breathtaking speed, from cosmic epics to morphing genitals and seniors’ porn to organic nausea and unhealthy food. A few dynamic breaks take us to an American suburb, or digital reefs of pieces of steak on a strange sea.

The mostly metal crowd was delighted, if occasionally impatient, with the very slow introduction that eventually led to the show itself. Clown Core is a bit provocative, you see. Case in point: for about twenty minutes before their entrance (itself delayed by long minutes of nothing on a background of astronomical images of planets), a masked guy (seen in their videos) sits in front of the audience, smokes a cigarette and listens to New Age tunes on his phone….

That said, the wait was rewarded with a performance that shattered eardrums and conventions alike. The audience screamed out loud (for joy). Montreal band Karneef had warmed up the room adequately beforehand, but it was mainly a picture of four cute orange-white kittens that got everyone excited before the clowns arrived, an honest mistake, or a strategic one? So much so that when it was removed, everyone wanted it back and started shouting “Cats, cats, cats!” Who said the hearts of metalheads were as hard as steel?

Clown Core is unclassifiable and, above all, memorable. Never bring your grandmother there unless she’s the coolest in history.

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