| The Histrionics is a satirical rock band of conceptual performance artists who appropriate popular songs in order to mock academic and commercial art paradigms. That being said, though, the most important thing about this group is the same as any other band—they know how to put on a kick-ass concert. Last summer they played a show in Berlin organized by Curators without Borders, one of the new spaces in Berlin’s Brunnenstrasse. I went to Clarchen’s Ballhaus, a staple of Berlin dance culture (ballroom dancing, that is), just to drink some beers and hear some music…and I somehow ended up on the bassist’s shoulders as he ran around the stage during the encore. |
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The Histrionics is a satirical rock band of conceptual performance artists who appropriate popular songs in order to mock academic and commercial art paradigms. That being said, though, the most important thing about this group is the same as any other band—they know how to put on a kick-ass concert. Last summer they played a show in Berlin organized by Curators without Borders, one of the new spaces in Berlin’s Brunnenstrasse. I went to Clarchen’s Ballhaus, a staple of Berlin dance culture (ballroom dancing, that is), just to drink some beers and hear some music…and I somehow ended up on the bassist’s shoulders as he ran around the stage during the encore.
Consider this a warning: audience participation is non-negotiable at a Histrionics concert. The lead singer (or any one else in the band for that matter) is not shy about singling out audience members, twirling them center stage and serenading them while making fun of Tracey Emin’s self-proclaimed promiscuity ("Exploitative shock value, of all the men that screwed you…Traaaacey") to the tune of The Police’s Roxanne. They also like to roll around on the ground while performing, jump on each others’ backs, and climb any structure in the stage’s immediate vicinity during the show—all effects of their hyper-enthusiastic stage presence.
In an over-hyped market where pretension often beats out inspiration, the art world is an easy target for jokers, and the Histrionics are in line to join the ranks of such infamous pranksters as Cattelan and Bansky, able to bite the hand that feeds them and come back for seconds. A Histrionic’s concert can be summarized as a guaranteed good time, a bizarre combination of classic and pop rock, karaoke and art trivia, bringing out that inner art history geek/groupie/80s rock fan in all of us.
Danius Kesminas formed the Histrionics in his native Australia in 1999. Since their inception, the Histrionics have been awarded a residency at Berlin’s Kunstlerhaus Bethanien and played numerous live gigs including the opening for Australia’s pavilion at last summer’s Venice Bienalle. Represented by Darren Knight Gallery in Sydney, Kesminas has also recently formed an Indonesian-based band, Punkusila. He has shown extensively in Europe and Australia, with parallel exhibitions of non-performance artwork accompanying his concerts. As much as the Histrionics are musicians, or a "conceptual-art (heritage)-rock-cover band" (in their own words), they are also comedians. Their song adaptations are hilarious, with a good dose of art historical expertise and allusions. On the album Never Mind the Pollocks, Serra’s notoriously controversial Tilted Arc is the subject of Useless Steel in the Mall, a rip-off of Pink Floyd’s Another Brick in the Wall. Off the latest album, Museum Fatigue, the song Pad Thai Takeaway references Rirkrit Tiravanija’s food happenings to the tune of 100cc’s Dreadlock Holiday ("I don’t like Rirkrit, no, no—I love him"), while Devo’s Whip It lends its melody for Drip It, mocking the misogynist ghosts of Abstract Expressionism ("Clement Greenburg comes along, you must drip it"). Kesminas toes the line between mockery and envy, making The Histrionics a unique quasi-tribute band. No word yet if Serra thinks they’re funny. Because the band projects their lyrics on the wall during each song, the audience is invited to sing along, and given a chance to get the joke before the chorus ends. These covers are just a few of many appropriations tearing down the idols of modern and post-modern art and making way for the Children of Berlin, to the tune of the Sultans of Swing.
