"Dada is the sun, Dada is the egg. Dada is the Police of the Police"

by Keely Anne Hill, Writer & Editor

  Writing a review and conforming to the normality of putting fingertips to keyboard seems to miss the point. To explain the inexplicable, the unlawful and anarchic nature of both Dada the band and the cultural movement of the same name hardly seems pertinent. Indeed, Hugo Ball, author of the Dada Manifesto stated: "What we call Dada is a piece of tomfoolery from the void, in which all the lofty questions have become involved . . ." And if tomfoolery is the impetus of Dadaism, the music and performance of Dada (the band) did not disappoint. If this Midlands group are anything to go by, the nihilistic cultural movement of Dada -originally flourishing in the early twentieth century- is far from over.

The band's front man Frank is less a lead vocalist, more a hippy master of ceremonies; a performance artist, taking his brothers and sisters on a helter-skelter into their thoughts. Trippy Dada wall hangings help transform any sullen indifferent venue to a cavern of art and mystery. Think of an Alice in Wonderland come Gene Wilder Willy Wonker-esque world where anything can happen, and the wealth of weird and wonderful artefacts that are utilised to transform Frank throughout the show help create the effect.

For you musos, a band who are so driven by artist impression and a rejection of prevailing standards would maybe suffer musically (I must admit, I did worry myself when I entered a gig and was faced with a front man wearing a feather boa, sunglasses and a psychedelic top hat). However, fear not! Alongside Frank, five incredibly talented musicians use catchy riffs and sensitive melodies to create a backdrop to the chaotic lyrics that are so indicative of Dada poetry. Even if you have never heard any of Dada's hefty set before, you will find yourself chanting back lyrics with a strange familiarity, such as the chorus to FATMAN ("It's not over till the fat man sings") or howling to the skies during WEREWOLF.

Musical influences span Julie Andrews, Iron Maiden, ethereal Pink Floyd-like compositions and reggae-style beats. If you remember the Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah band of the sixties, then forget them, because Dada outstrip them both in artistic-ridicule, musical composition and talent.

Keep your ears to the ground for news of Dada's next performance (I'm loathed to use the word 'gig', as with Dada Mouton Noir, it is so much more) and whether you are from an artistic or musical background, you will not be disappointed.

In the words of writer Walter Serner: "Art is dead. Long live Dada."

In the words of Keely Anne Hill: "Ditto."