Huffing Poppers with Bottoms

January 20, 2015 - accent chair

The happy punk rope Bottoms pant poppers backstage before their concert. From left: Jake Dibeler, Simon Leahy, and Michael Prommasit. Photos by Amy Lombard. For some-more cinema of Bottoms, check out a complete print gallery

Backstage at
Palisades, a little strain venue in Brooklyn, a happy punk-dance rope called Bottoms huddled in a lavatory huffing poppers. This week, they recover their initial EP, Goodbye, on JD Samson and Inge Colsen’s Atlas Chair label, yet they’ve already built a bit of a following, with The Fader and Pitchfork praising their mix of reversion electro and politicized lyrics about HIV and self-hatred.

The rope seemed some-more witty than shaken or grave before their show. “Publicity stunt!” Jake Dibeler, a self-proclaimed “lead screamer,” shouted as he inhaled a popper and struck a extreme poise for a photographer, showcasing his hosiery and high heels. Simon Leahy, a keyboardist and songwriter, who was rocking a unwashed blond Jennifer Aniston–style wig, followed his lead. “Quiche!” he pronounced in a thick Manchester accent. “I keep observant ‘quiche.’ Everyone says we sound like Ja’mie [from
Summer Heights High]!”

Dibeler, a “lead screamer,” bites on a bottle of “designer” poppers

The rope shaped a year ago after Leahy and Prommasit’s prior band, Teeth, pennyless adult since their other rope members found “real jobs” or changed divided from New York.

“We started [Bottoms] since we wanted to get laid,” Leahy said. He was joking—he’s married—but his bandmates are still on a prowl.

“I’m terrible during being a boyfriend,” Dibeler joked, “because we wish each dick inside me—pull quote!”

The genuine impulse behind a rope stemmed from Leahy’s seductiveness in a AIDS predicament and “music done by faggots [during that time].” He started creation loud, ardent dance strain with Prommasit and asked Dibeler to try-out to be their lead singer, or “lead screamer” as Dibeler calls himself, at
Secret Project Robot, an art space in Bushwick. Dibeler had been creation rarely choreographed opening art, yet flourishing adult wanted to turn a singer, notwithstanding his miss of outspoken talents. He screamed for Leahy and Prommasit, scored a job, and began essay dim lyrics desirous by David Wojnarowicz to go along with a instrumentals.

“It’s a partial of a world,” Dibeler pronounced about a lyrics’ grave theme matter. “All a genocide and a sex and a illness and a despondency and a fucked-up childhood things is healthy to all of us.”

Leahy grew adult in Manchester and Prommasit spent his girl in South Carolina—both places where homophobia was simply a fact of life—and Dibeler gifted a some-more gay-friendly childhood in Philadelphia, yet all of them were fervent to relate their early seductiveness in happy sex. “I’ve had a dick in my mouth for a past 23 years,” Dibeler said.

“I used to always view on people,” Prommasit added. “I’d would mount during a urinal for dual hours, not peeing and usually staring during dicks.”

“I do it now,” Dibeler interrupted.

“I do it for [shorter durations of times].”

“I do it compartment they come.”

For all a unwashed jokes, Dibeler takes a rope and his opening art seriously. Lately he has attempted to stretch himself from a bear community, notwithstanding his apparent bear-like appearance, since some bears saw his opening art, where he spasmodic gets fucked with a dildo in an art gallery, and started posting photos of Dibeler in armpit porn Tumblr blogs.

“I get fucked adult bloody to a Mariah Carey song, and people are still like, ‘Woof,” he said.

Leahy also concurrently creates jokes about his art while holding his work really seriously. “We started Bottoms to make shitty shit residence music, basically, for faggots,” he said. “Being a bottom [is also like being] a bottom of society.”

Leahy relates makeup to Dibeler’s face.

The rope usually approaching to perform for their “community” during Secret Project Robot, a art space where they rehearse, perform, and hang out with friends. Then JD Samson, of Le Tigre and MEN, watched a rope perform. She showed their strain to Inge Colsen, with whom she runs Atlas Chair, and they met with Bottoms during a happy bar Phoenix for a assembly and afterwards sealed a band.

“Bottoms to me totally inhabits [being concurrently indignant and celebratory] for me,”
Samson told VICE progressing this month. “I remember being during some of a initial Gossip shows and feeling a same way, like screaming and being around your family and being indignant and happy during a same time. Sharing a displeasure is something that feels impossibly ecstatic.”

Bottoms performs during Palisades in Brooklyn.

At their uncover during Palisades, we witnessed this contrary appetite firsthand. The initial series resembled a Cat Power show. Leahy hovered over a list in a black dress and his bad blond wig, personification strain on his laptop, as Prommasit worked behind a drum kit. Wearing a dress that pronounced “I HATE MY BODY” on a front and “GOODBYE” on a back, Dibeler stared during a table, vocalization into a mic as if it were a write and he were Sandy from
Grease.

As a second strain started, though, Dibeler jumped adult and ran into a crowd. Screaming like Courtney Love during a tallness of Hole’s power, he unleashed a voice that sounded indignant and generous and happy and unhappy all during once. The assembly crushed and danced along, buoyed adult by his implausible voice.

The band, of course, demonstrated a campy clarity of amusement during all this angst. When Dibeler speckled Amy, a photographer, holding cinema of him, he smiled and struck a poise opposite a mainstay holding adult a building’s roof. As he sang “My Body” (sample lyric: “I hatred my body”), he lay on a belligerent and humped a floor, ostensible both assured and uncertain during a same time.

At a finish of a song, he sat on a bottom of a theatre like Judy Garland behaving during a Palace Theatre. He afterwards squabble into a audience. “I”m ill and have phlegm!” he screamed. Then he went behind into action. He sat on a building in a center of a assembly with a mic in his mouth like it was a dick and let out a speechless roar.

To a gays in a audience, this sounded cathartic—his voice was releasing a annoy about all a jive we have to understanding with on a daily basis. As we danced along to Leahy and Prommasit’s instrumentals, we too were shedding a feelings about all that pissed us off. When a uncover ended, we found myself remembering a band’s lyrics as if we had usually watched a Katy Perry track show. As a lights rose and Prommasit collected their instruments, Dibeler looked into a crowd. “There’s some things I’m revelation you,” he said. “I’m a Gemini, I’m a bottom, and we have an manuscript for sale on a table.”

Follow Mitchell and Amy on Twitter.

For some-more Bottoms, listen to a remix of “Becoming Real” next and check out a complete gallery of cinema of a band.To see them rope live in Brooklyn on Friday night, buy tickets to their album-release celebration during Secret Project Robot.

source ⦿ http://www.vice.com/read/huffing-poppers-with-bottoms-789

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