I think I pigeonholed myself for too long when it came to Decius. I tell myself I like bright guitar music, solemn folk numbers, the occasional foray into electronic music and that’s where I stand. Sure, I’m familiar with Fat White Family, fronted by Decius front-man Lias Saoudi, I’ve seen him and Saul Adamczewski live before. Their music certainly pushes the envelope with what can be done artistically in regard to music and performance, but this four-piece band, founded by brothers Liam and Luke May, together with Warmduscher’s Quinn Whalley, struck me as outside the confines of what I wanted in my listening bubble.
For me Decius felt like that next step too far into the world of unbridled debauchery and corruption that I’d rather not take, probably because there are just not many contexts in my life where I’d feel the need to listen to such sounds. In one interview with the Quietus, Saoudi alludes to this belief, “There was an element of chaos but it was always extremely tightly controlled and orchestrated. Saul was extremely controlling in lots of ways. That’s not to discredit him, we needed that structure, but having been in that constrained position for so long, to just be like, ‘Here’s a beat, do what the fuck you want for ten minutes…’ that felt a lot more akin to the way we perform live, where you’re just howling whatever syllables come into your mouth. For me, the reins were off.”
However, early in the morning of Sunday the 22nd of March, I spent some time seeing them at Hackney’s EartH after the release of their new EP, Decius Trax EP VI, earlier this month.
Decius, by its very name (a reference to a Roman Emperor remembered best for the brutality of his leadership) is a project that seemingly aspires to tap into a state of consciousness beyond what is broadly acceptable. When Lias took to the stage, adorned in white makeup and dressed in what appeared to be a traditional Japanese kimono, this became quite clear. Throughout the set he shed this identity to channel something that resembled Alan Cumming’s emcee in Cabaret, a slippery figure now clad in black latex, an embodiment of decadence like the emcee symbolised in Berlin.
The music and rave culture of the German city informed the entire set, with Saoudi dressed as if ready to embark on all-weekend blowout through Kreuzberg and Friedrichshain. Musically, Decius draws from a similar source as the May brothers and Whalley delve deep into the genres of acid house and techno to develop a sound that while certainly danceable, is wrought with a darkness and industrialism that seems hand-crafted in an East Berlin warehouse.
Numerous acts pull from similar influences, but Decius separates itself from many of them with their infusion of a distinctive punk energy that spanned the length of their performance. Under disorientating strobe lights Saoudi sings, screams and collapses onto the floor in episodes which blur exhaustion, inebriation and passion. It must be noted that through the chaos Whalley and the Mays are standing motionless at the back of the stage behind nondescript stood-up boxes of some variety, making them look like Noel Edmunds is about to offer them each a deal they can’t refuse. It’s a slightly unsettling scene, but in a good way.
The showmanship persists with the frontman standing idle raising his arm to the sky with his hand hooked downwards. This gesture is the most memorable of his varying bodily contortions that seem ripped out of an Egon Schiele painting or perhaps an evocation of classic cinematic horror personae like 1922’s Count Orlok or Boris Karloff’s Frankenstein. Saoudi’s hooked arm floated as the transition was made into my favourite song from their catalogue and show, ‘Queen of 14th Street’, a ‘poppier’ number than much of the other material that was played. Many tracks from the performance are anchored around static and entrancing beats which sought to lure and hold the listener in place for Lias to embellish upon them with his welcomed ramblings.
It was around this point where Lias proceeded to engage in some crowd work, disembarking from the stage and onto the floor. Luckily for me, having pushed past and navigated through a wall of bodies he glided straight across me as microphone wire momentarily caught and wrapped around my arm. You can catch me on the right side of the photograph below as I stood behind Saoudi holding what appears to be an uncomfortable glance into the distance, but I can assure you I felt only excitement and thrill at what was unfolding before me.
It is interesting that the band would call their second album Decius Vol.II (Splendour & Obedience), because that is exactly what they do not achieve, particularly in this live setting in London. Their title, name and branding suggest a ‘superior’ form of indulgence. It draws upon ancient Rome and the opulent decadence of many of its leaders: Nero, Caligula, Elagabalus and so on. Despite this, Decius looks and sounds like the exact opposite of high society. It is sleazy, grotty and morally reprehensible, but that is part of what makes them so great. The boundaries are collapsed between what is right and wrong and what is ‘splendorous’ and foul, there are no judgements or discriminations here, just like in Berlin. There is an equality in this music’s depravity, one that lets you know that no matter how successful you are, you’re no better than anyone else and their own desires.
Decius: Website / Instagram / Bandcamp
Review by Thomas Hill
Photograph by Isaac Fisher: Instagram
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