I can’t think of a more appropriate siren to sing me away on my road trip than the honey- toned Cibelle (pronounced so as to rhyme with ‘lov-er-ly’). I’ve previously posted her own (non) definition of her music without boundaries: “Even better, is to sculpt out of a big mass of collected particles of sound, sweat, glue, lick, purple, silver, air, wood, wind, anything thats been stuck together by living life and all these and other things accumulating inside of me just like breathing and the only things remaining being the ones that match me at that moment, then letting them out, all merged inside me by osmosis, letting it all come out, all that, is that mass, that will be sculpted until it gives me goose bumps and butterflies. then i know it's ready”.
On stage this amounts to an assortment of electronic gadgets and children’s toys and percussive instruments, backed up by fiery drummer and guitarist, and brought together by Cibelle’s angelic voice – she sounds like hot maple syrup dripping over cold ice cream melting over hot home-made waffles. Mmmm.
On stage this amounts to an assortment of electronic gadgets and children’s toys and percussive instruments, backed up by fiery drummer and guitarist, and brought together by Cibelle’s angelic voice – she sounds like hot maple syrup dripping over cold ice cream melting over hot home-made waffles. Mmmm.
This was part of a new night called dsh blp which featured djs from my old pals Tunng, and excellent support from SonVer (chamber rock meets shoegazer electronica) and Robert Logan (bedroom moog-freakery) – it was kind of like the Arctic Circle used to be only better, and I will definitely check out any future events they hold.
But the night belonged to Cibelle.
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