RASPUTINA
By Bob Pomeroy
The group looks like a erotic Victorian fantasy. Rasputina are three attractive women wearing corsets and frilly things. They play cellos in their boudoir attire. Three women stroking and caressing the curvaceous wooden bodies of their orchestral instruments. Maybe they remind you of salacious characters in a Ken Russell movie. Maybe they remind you of the Spice Girls on a Whalebone bender. But as the advertisements tell us, image is nothing. Dozens of eye candy girl groups release records every year banking on selling a few copies to hormonal teenage boys. If there isn't some substance behind the gloss, all these pretty maidens will be forgotten by next season.
Appearances are deceiving. Rasputina have a distinctive look that adds an air of gothic eroticism to their presentation, but they also have music that demands attention. The group's inventive use of the cello breaks the instrument free of conventional limitations. Rasputina use the instrumentation of a chamber music ensemble to play dynamic pop/rock songs. Their presentation may be erotic, but there is something askew in the pageantry. Their songs rage like punk rock or soothe like church music. Raputina lyrics tend to be twisted like Edward Gorey writing biographical sketches. Rasputina are a trio of female cello players. Rasputina are a rock band. Rasputina are sexy, but don't dare try to dismiss them as a "chick band" novelty act.
"To play an ancient instrument and appear conservative and prissy, then to rock out in a smoky club," Melora Creager, said by way of describing what Rasputina do. "Contrast is important to me. I had played in guitar based bands. In those situations the cello is pretty much decoration. There was always such a strong response to the cello, or a woman playing the cello in those clubs that I wanted it to be the meat of a group. I put an ad in the paper, met some like minded women and that's how Raputina got its start."
Rasputina played the smoky rock dives of Manhattan developing their stage craft and cultivating a following. Since cello trios playing rock music are rare, the women had to figure out things for themselves. They had to find a way to amplify their acoustic instruments without howling feedback. What sort of monitors work best with their kind of music? These obstacles were surmounted and Rasputina signed to Colombia.
Thanks For the Ether gave non-New Yorkers a chance to experience Rasputina. The CD reflects the groups fondness for other times and other places. The disc opens a song about the Triangle Shirtwaist fire, an event which exposed horrendous working conditions in New York sweatshops at the turn of the century. The Triangle Shirtwaist factory once stood in the neighborhood where the members of Rasputina now live. On another song, Melora's vocals were recorded on an Edison wax cylinder machine. The reclusive, eccentric Howard Hughes occupies another song while the prohibition era swing of "Why Don't You Do Right" plays on another track. "Creating something, there are so many possibilities," Melora explains. "You have to narrow it down somehow. Using these historical events is like giving myself an assignment. With something like that, you can delve into detail to create an image or feeling in the small space that is a pop song."
A clockwork version of Melanie's "Brand New Key" was selected as the first single from Thanks for the Ether. While Rasputina do a fine version of this song, it was "Transylvania Concubine that gave the band cache in the rarefied nocturnal world of goth. The song is loosely based on the story of Elizabeth Bathory, a cousin of Vald Tepes (the historical figure the legendary Dracula was inspired by) who bathed in the blood of virgin girls to preserve her beauty. It was probably this song that inspired Marilyn Manson to invite Rasputina to be their opening act.
"It got off to a very rough start," Melora concedes recalling the Manson tour. "The audience seeing the fear in our eyes. The audience throwing objects as a result of smelling that fear. Having things thrown at us made us learn how to manipulate the audience right back. It was successful in the end. It was kind of like school. These kids needed to be told, Shut Up!"
Trial by fire on the Manson tour definitely impacted Rapsutina's music. "It made me think about rhythmic structures," Creager explains. What makes something be rock rather than some classical influenced thing. What makes the music rock is a barbaric thing. It makes people move and makes people feel rhythm. I wanted to look at that."
The tour also resulted in a remix EP for "Transylvanian Concubine. "I felt like it was Marilyn Manson covering of our songs with me singing," Melora says explaining the harsh, industrial sound of the remixes. "I was curious as to what he would do and excited. People who thought that we were limited to a semi-classical thing saw that we could do whatever we want. I know there were no cellos on that record!"
Finding the freedom to do whatever they wanted through their association with Marilyn Manson, the band decided to stay very close to the sound they pioneered on Ether. "It's still all cello," Creager explains. "We've worked hard on ways to record the cello to get more bottom out of it and make it more effective."
On a few songs, it's hard to believe that there aren't electric guitars wailing away. "Leechwife" is the hardest sounding song Rasputina have yet done. "Any effect that you can put on a guitar, you can put on a cello or a phone or a voice," Creager says acknowledging the metal overtones on the song. "That is also very much an homage to Ozzy Osborn. I stole a riff in there," she admits. " It's kind of like play acting. Here is a metal song. Can we pull it off?"
The subject matter of "Leechwife" shows the band still immersed in ancient texts and tomes. "Leeching is an ancient medical practice," Melora explains. "In the mediaeval times applying leeches was a woman's job. There were Leechwives who practiced Leachwifery."
"I was reading a book called the Devils by August Atweep," Creager says setting up "Christian Soldiers," another song that draws on obscure medical practices for inspiration. "They had these huge, 20 gallon metal syringes they used in exorcisms. Somehow an enema is going to get the Devil out of you. It was so common then that it was used in a lot of popular jokes. These huge metal syringes were terrifying and also had sexual overtones. It used to be a popular joke but now it's been forgotten. It's like the old tests for witchcraft. If she floats, she's a witch. If she sinks, she not a witch but she's dead."