A band that is a sign of our times
Let me start by saying that the surfacing of The Sick Man of Europe at this point in time in London with a name that borrows the phrase attributed to Tsar Nicholas I for 
describing the decline and weakness of the Ottoman Empire (and these days more often refers to Germany’s status quo), is some of the most inspiring news this year. I believe that The Sick Man of Europe is one of the most relevant bands out there. In times of multidimensional crises, emerging artists who are socially perceptive and can get valid points across are truly fascinating.
Can this country be perceived as the sick man of Europe of our times? I think it can, and it is, and the repetitive nature of this band’s message and rhythms works symbolically in many ways to get this message across.
When the band’s debut EP ‘Moderate Air Quality‘ was released in February, I was inspired by the pulsating minimal rhythms that traversed it and the assertiveness of the vocals 
delivering verses that could be slogans against the status quo of modern cities. “Breathe in… Breathe out…” prompted ‘Moderate Air Quality’ the opening track of the debut EP, “seeking solace in repetition” as the band said in a statement. This is the track that kickstarted the debut album launch gig too and, believe it or not, the version we were presented with during the gig was much heavier, the words felt as if they were coming out with much more gravity, while the minimal repetitive music /noise that started to
build up ‘helped’ them stick in our minds for longer, eventually almost dropping on the floor with enough heft to leave indentations. Our experience of this band’s vision was only just beginning.
The stage was bathed in a red sacrificial colour, the rest of the venue was in almost complete darkness and – out of nowhere – the vocalist of The Sick Man of Europe appeared on stage, guiding everybody in a breathing exercise.
A singer that does not belong on stage/ A stage cannot really hold a performer
With a sound that is inspired by the music of the late 70s/early 80s post-punk European dark alternative scene, The Sick Man of Europe sing about the age of technological advances when one version of a model is made obsolete in the nick of time, they also sing about the endless quest for progression and the mindless creation of a false sense of missing out. In their lyrics one can find references to life as a token – a transactional element – while other songs talk about a sense of monotony and repetition in our lives evident through the re-appearance of similar circumstances in a continuum.
“Profane, not profound/We eat, we bite, we shit /The modern world makes me sick /Let’s destroy it“(lyrics: ‘Profane not Profound‘)
And while considering and agreeing (of course agreeing!) with each verse of their lyrics, the feverish atmosphere that was built up at The George Tavern started becoming more and more obvious. I felt that the stage was irrelevant as a concept and as a performative construct because this was really an emotional confession – a band’s desire to share disappointments and anathemas about life in the city. In this context, a stage is a barrier – a pedestal that has no place in a personal interaction such as the one I am describing. 
After the first two songs, the singer spent most of his time among us and, interestingly enough, we spent most of the time looking him straight in the eyes instead of at an angle on stage. After a while, one could not help but turn their focus inward and start wondering about their place in all this. The fact that our gaze was not directed on the stage but straight ahead, amongst each other, played a major role in this. Suddenly, this gig felt like a call for self-reflection, and I was having an experience similar 
to those loopy dreams I have when I am feverish. My way back from this feeling was either a scream or a note poking out from the noisy guitar/bass/drums wall that had been ‘erected’ by the three musicians still on stage. And then there was the dancing.
There really was a sense that we were all together on a dancefloor sharing music and verses that talk about the end of times and enjoying dancing to this in the darkness and the sacrificial red light. The setlist itself did not matter – it was all about the atmosphere.
Now I will dance you the war…. The war which you did not prevent.” (Vaslav Nijinsky)
I can’t tell you how excited I was to see the movement of the singer throughout this gig. It added another dimension to the band’s music and lyrics. The images we have seen of Vaslav Nijinsky’s incredible signature poses – particularly the position of his hands – came to mind whenever the singer was dancing in the instrumental parts of the songs. At the same 
time, Peter Murphy’s early Bauhaus poses also came to mind – these incredibly powerful pauses within a song, carefully orchestrated with added sculptural poses, only to add more gravity to those moments without lyrics. The Sick Man of Europe shares these rare qualities in a performance 
that is not just about the message in the lyrics, but the overall message through the movement of the body in space – something which distinguishes them from all the other recently formed post-punk/goth/punk bands out there.
This album launch gig of the band’s self-titled debut release was one of the most intense gigs we have ever attended. The Sick Man of Europe is here as a band of four musicians whose names don’t matter, as they are all messengers of a pressing need for self-criticism. We will remember this performance as a deliberate attempt of theirs to shift our gaze from one that glorifies the performer to one that acknowledges the importance of each one of us as instigators of change. One could either succumb to the energy and allow it to take over the brain and the heart, or miss entirely the raison d’être of this band.
Blaue Rosen 