I got ready, but my expectations were kept low. If I miss this, it will not be for lack of effort. My friend DJ Vegan In Black borrowed me her CD of Kanga months ago, and I was floored by it. When you feel late to a party, you feel a distance that builds within, like not officially part of the cult but following and observing. That could just be me always feeling kind of like the outsider. But I got into this! So I found Kanga to be very aggressive, resonant, like this is going to be in the classic industrial canon. She has lyrics that stick to your mind. Going Red, Honey, Vital Signs, I'm hearing these songs but I don't really believe I will be as close as I eventually got on that Gman stage. I think in an interview she has referred to her music as industrial pop....industrial adjacent. 
The tracks are effortlessly imprinting on me. They all have lyrics you can chant with Kanga when she plays live. And the crowd right in front, all of us saying "I'm On Fire...I Don't Belong Here Anymore!!!!" And you feel a surge, an empowering rush to be in front. It was awesome like Lucy vamping cousin Ernie. Going Red for example kind of mesmerizes with repeated chanting, some that you can sing along with her and some that you just observe her say and say again like an industrial shaman loading potent magic into words and them back into her. I was really surprised how close I got to the stage.
When I strolled in it was well before her set. I assumed a line outside Gman but there were just relaxing in between Metro and Gman. There was a massive fucking bus parked on the side, 'cause yeah, Cold Wave. So no line....I just strolled in. No one to show my ID to...alright. It was my first time there so this German Expressionist Ken Russell sense of wonder is gonna paint the memory a certain way. You paint the interior of your bubble of wonder. You make it real enough but heavier on the weird. And on top of that, it was my first time actually seeing Kanga. The bar seems to reach the north corner of Metro's block. Its a medium small bar. Or at least it was intimate enough. I know of friends of mine that have played here. Even from the back of it you can see well to the stage. 
I walked in to the familiar sound of industrial being played by the DJ. I see Marci and say hi. She's way in the back. Then I go to the dance floor nearest to the stage. Now its just a matter of dancing in this fucking spot until Kanga comes out. I end up right under the fucking mic, close enough to see the braces on her teeth and the red paint on her neck. She is an intense performer that ignites it in her fans. For this Chicago gig, it was a backing track and her in a mic. That was all that was needed. I cannot imagine the burden of...just you on stage...eyes on you to bring this industrial energy. The gun powder she has stockpiled is called "angry white girl screaming on stage". Potent shit....just like honey does not expire, . Man...that shit lights her up. She would bend back like Neo only with her hands limp behind her like she is about to float up. She would get on all fours or on her back. She was a goddamn live wire. At some point she played a new song and at the end she even played an encore. She even went into the audience to be almost enveloped within us. In between tracks some girl from the audience emerged to the front and handed Kanga a shot of what appeared to be tequila. Kanga asked if it was roofied and still took the shot, like a champ . She was a great sport about it. Hmm, just to be clear, I am not ridiculing her for wondering if a drink just handed to her is drugged. Its entirely understandable to have this question and even jest to express it aloud. 
And it was Marci who told me about Kanga's post-Cold Waves show. So now, my memory has every song locked because they are memorable, catchy and impacting like you want industrial to feel. Kanga's immediate sister hood includes HIDE and Bestial Mouths. I'm being lazy here, this is to me who they sound like. Its the industrial that brings back Neo to my head effortlessly with details that include some not-forgotten iconic regulars dancing. Kanga is from L.A. according to an interview I saw on Youtube. It's from this interview where I get that phrase angry white girl. The videos of her I have seen go back to 2016. I noticed a good number of people around me take out their phones to take videos and pictures. I do hope they did. It would be nice to see this as one more Kanga video on Youtube.
I walked back to the car feeling fortunate and sated for seeing something from Cold Waves. A lot of my goth friends went to this, and seeing Kanga made that festival less remote from me, like I came back seeing something from this. When going to Metro, or in this case Gman Tavern, I usually park closer to Music Box, since I don't want to waste time trying to look for parking on Clark. So it was a blissful walk back, still cautious in knowing how vulnerable one is when walking to your car alone....the bubble with the Ken Russell style interior. And indeed a walk from Metro to Music Box at times can be eerily quiet like you are walking through a closed movie sound stage. I am aware of how fragile this bubble is. I get in the car and on instinct I turn the radio on NPR. I hear about the Las Vegas shooting at a concert....at a concert. The bubble is burst. This is all I listen to on the way home, the Kanga concert a now well insulated happy memory. This past cannot change, but it might as well be another world away. This is the world of Leonard Cohen's Everybody Knows . This is the world the bubble escape is for. This shooting at a Las Vegas concert still a developing event, arrivals at the hospitals barely begin to mount. This is what I hear on the radio on the way home. Damn....just Damn, humbled and quiet is the drive home.
Zig
