On Tuesday, October 31, while the Hollywood sidewalks swarmed with costumed revelers, a spate of spirited celebrants haunted the hallowed club called the Whisky-a-Go-Go, pumped and primed for a presentation of “dissident cabaret” from the outspoken Los Angeles-based band Otep. The anagrammatic name of this hard-rock foursome is also the handle hung on the outfit’s front-woman, poet-singer Otep Shamaya, who commanded the Whisky’s stage with substance as well as style. Otep’s powerful ten-song set, featuring songs from the band’s two previous full-length CDs as well as tracks from a forthcoming 2007 release, was supplemented by a new video, “Ghost Flowers,” which was projected on an overhead screen before the musicians stepped onstage. The fresh images and music were enthusiastically received by the packed crowd on the floor, and then a house announcer introduced Otep as a band that’s “keeping metal alive,” and the dissident cabaret commenced.
Bassist “Evil J.” McGuire and guitarist Karma Cheema strode forth boldly, both clad in black jeans and shirts, while drummer Brian Wolffe laid down a marching beat that would be fitting for either a coronation or an execution. Then out hopped vocalist Otep Shamaya, wearing snug, tweedy knee-length shorts and a high-collared black halter, her blonde hair topped by a black derby hat, her simply yet elegantly made-up face symbolically veiled by wide-woven, chain-link-style mesh. She plunged into the opening song, “Battle Ready,” with a quick-tongued delivery that fit finely with Evil J.’s nimble bass lines. During the subsequent driving lead-in to “Bloodpigs,” Shamaya brandished the popular il cornuti hand symbol, also known as “devil horns,” while mist swirled around her. Besides hoisting the “horns,” a perennial favorite with rockers young and old, Shamaya made sure to give equal time during the show to another cherished gesture, the well-known
middle-finger salute.
Although Otep is known for making an impact on the audience with a strong personal presence, rather than relying heavily on flashy effects, there were a few dramatic decorative touches in sight, probably as a nod to the pervasive “Day of the Dead” vibe in the house. Amplifiers sparkled with tiny blue-green holiday-style lights, and were adorned with angels, cherubs, and stacked ceramic skulls. A shamanistic microphone-stand held totem-like curios and keepsakes, next to what appeared to be a big, sawed-off brandy keg, upended as a platform for a modern-day soap-box orator or cracker-barrel philosopher. Branded on the top metal strip banding the barrel-staves was the motto “Art Saves,” which is found in reverse form as the title of Otep’s first full-length album, “Sevas Tra” and also as a tattoo on Shamaya’s toned right arm, beneath a Celtic knot. On the keg’s opposite side was some kind of long-snouted mask on an upright stick, temporarily shielding a lumpy bulk beneath. As a prelude to “Bloodpigs,” Shamaya stripped aside the mask to reveal a life-sized boar’s head impaled on the pole, ironically marked between the eyes with the astrological symbol for Venus, ♀, symbolizing womanhood.
Next came a new song, “Home Grown,” highlighting the horrifying frequency with which children become victims of violence, sacrificed by silence. Shamaya made a transfixing centerpiece, her voice ascending from a growl to a scream, while Evil J. and Karma deftly traded places with each other, and then darted back again to their anchor spots on either side of the singer. “Home Grown” seemed a grimly suitable lead-in to the tortured tone of “My Confession,” which was followed by a live reprise of “Ghost Flowers.” Shamaya accented the new song by clutching an actual bouquet of fresh-cut posies, tossing a few blooms to the crowd.
Otep’s potent instrumental trio never lagged in laying down a sonic foundation for Shamaya’s searing lyrics. Smooth-scalped Evil J., who showed himself to be much more congenial than devilish during a friendly pre-show meet-and-greet session with fans, paired his seismic bass-playing 
with growling vocals on some songs. Behind the drums, Brian worked the sticks with vigorous efficiency, while his long, shaggy locks tossed and shook. Goateed axe-man Karma exercised precision in his delivery, generally refraining from lengthy leads, but showboating in his own way with an array of melodramatic facial expressions, running the gamut from tormented soul to eager demon. Otep’s sound has been called “nu-metal” by some reviewers, who note that the band’s steely edge is alloyed with a hard beat inspired by the street, well-suited to Shamaya’s rapid-fire lyrical style.
Shamaya flaunted her theatrical flair during the new song “Communion,” asking a good number of lucky attendees to hold up metallic rings that had been passed out earlier, inviting all to take part in a rock-and-roll “marriage ceremony” between singer and audience. Next, Evil J. wrapped a skull-print bandana around his lower face for the scathing indictment of “Warhead,” from the “House of Secrets” album. During that number, one daring crowd-surfer was ushered away from the floor after a brief foray towards the stage. Commenting on the song, Shamaya declared, “People should not be of the government, but government should be of the people,” and she assured everyone, “How powerful and beautiful you are – and that’s what they’re afraid of!” In another dash of dance-hall drama, Shamaya bent down in a position of possession, and she made a call for a moment of silence – a request that echoed the distant days and scene-staging ways of Jim Morrison, whose presence is still remembered and felt within the venerable walls of the Whisky. As might have been expected, the moment was mildly marred by beer-based yell-outs and clumsy f-bombs, but the spirit still settled strong over most who looked on. The fact that Otep’s “Shadow Soldier” jackets were seen at the show emphasized the poet’s point that grassroots voices of outrage are now emerging from the darkness and the silence.
Before the closing song, Shamaya rallied the communal resolve with the insistence, “We have not yet begun to fight!” – and then the band broke into “Menocide,” spurring another crowd-surfer out for a final excursion, and this time the rider was allowed to finish his jaunt. The music pulsed, hard and
loud, while the fit singer jumped, bobbed and bounced in her green tennis shoes, determined to go out with a bang. At the end of the piece, the Whisky audience roared and applauded, with watchers on the floor surging forward toward the stage while Shamaya bent to accept a gift from a fan. And then, one by one, it was time for the four members of Otep to exit, stage right, with Shamaya stepping off first, next Evil J., then Karma, and last of all, Brian. The ritual was done, the dissident cabaret was concluded.
On Halloween night at the Whisky, Otep was preceded by two other Southland bands, Sangre and Silent Civilian, and there was also a costume contest, plus plenty of leering levity from voluptuous vixens Juliya and Sanaz, who served as Mistresses of Ceremonies.
Scantily-clad Juliya introduced Sangre as the opening act, a five-man crew from Riverside, or “The IE,” as locals refer to So-Cal’s so-called “Inland Empire.” Bassist Danny Perez and drummer Johnny Gonzalez form the rhythm section for guitarists Mike Reyes and Josh Mendoza and singer Henry Sanchez. Because Reyes plays left-handed, the dual-guitar attack looked wickedly cool when the axe-slingers stood on either side of their vocalist, with fretboards aiming for the microphone. Sangre’s MySpace slogan proclaims “Southern California Heavy Metal,” and the fellows delivered, with a wall-of-sound effect that’s reminiscent of Metallica or Pantera, on beefy songs such as “Thinning the Herd,” “Retribution,” and “Mascaras.” Johnny’s bass drum was ghoulishly labeled for the evening, wearing the logo “DIE,” standing for Death Is Eternal. Sangre’s speedy sound inspired a lively little mosh pit, with a few active-but-not-overboard participants clearing a space on the floor.
The electric vibe established by Sangre’s solid seven-song set was mightily maintained by the second group on the bill, Silent Civilian, also introduced jokingly as “Violent Sicilian.” The four-piece band from Los Angeles is comprised of guitarists Tim Mankowski and Jonny Santos (with Santos handling lead vocals), along with drummer Chris Mora and bassist Henno, 
who also covers back-up vocals. The Silent Civilian boys played like barn-burners from the beginning, delivering “aggro” rhythms in combination with serious melodies. Songs played from their recent “Rebirth of the Temple” album included the title track and “Dead to Me,” along with several other hard-hitting hunks of metal. More action was seen in the mini-pit, and the crowd went wild when the band played a little taste of Pantera’s “Walk.” Not only that, but Jonny Santos made sure to remember the late Dimebag Darrell, honoring the memory of Pantera’s slain guitarist by saying, “Rest in peace.”
After Silent Civilian’s performance, Mistresses Juliya and Sanaz helmed the obligatory Costume Contest for all the decorated dolls and dudes in the house. Of course, curious characters and outrageous outfits are constant components of the Hollywood scene, both inside the clubs and out on the streets, and kooky guys and spooky gals were especially abundant at the Whisky on Halloween. Naughty nurses and saucy schoolgirls competed against dirty devils and grisly ghouls, with audience approval determining the favorites. Ultimately, a killer clown called “Captain Spaulding” emerged victorious, winning a smooch from seductive Mistress Juliya.
Halloween at the Whisky-a-Go-Go, featuring headliners Otep, along with Sangre and Silent Civilian, was an evening of masked mysteries and naked truths, hidden identities and open secrets, whispers from the shadows and screams from the spotlight. The rafters rang from hard music with a hard message, delivered with a vengeance.
