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Even in the wide and colourful world of dance music, only very, very rarely do you come across something that wipes the floor with the competition, something unlike anything you’ve ever seen. Something so horrifically, terrifyingly wrong in every aspect that mere words will not suffice. Blood On The Dance Floor are such a thing, and only their own hideous videos can truly do them justice. Let your retinas and eardrums absorb them in the video below if you dare.
Yes, it’s true, our world needs a radioactive tumble dryer accident involving Empire of the Sun and Black Veil Brides, a two-headed creature that tortures ears like a Will.i.am-composed advertising jingle for dog shit lollipops. With hand dancing. For those with who haven’t already collapsed screaming, meet BOTD’s diminutive tattooed beat messiah of Celtic chin make-up, Dahvie Vanity. Look, here’s more of him on his tour bus.
Yes, he really does spell his name like that. And yes, he did show us the contents of his fridge and announce that Oreo cookies and apple juice are in there because “this is how you get the bitches, alright?” Because it seems that not only are DV and his crew out to make music that is so awful it goes past parody and starts coming round again, like a human centipede with recurring bouts of diarrhea, he also seems to be on a mission to provide the misogyny and hardcore porn-informed sexual violence that I think we’d all agree have been sorely lacking in the traditionally more egalitarian arena of dance music.
‘Bitches’ presumably means the Slash Gash Terror Crew, Dahvie’s rabid teen/tween fanbase,, who sing along with delightful sonnets such as ‘Scream For My Ice Cream’:
“Got a monster in my pants
And if you ever get the chance
Gonna cram it down your throat,
Watch you gasp for air and choke.
I’m gonna jizz all in your face
I’m gonna wreck this fucking place.”
See also: ‘Revenge Porn’, ‘Sluts Get Guts’, ‘Inject Me Sweetly’, ‘S My D’, ‘Wet Dream War Machine’ and ‘Mad Rad Hair’. Here’s ‘Sexting’ for the enjoyment of romantic lovers everywhere.
Blood on The Dancefloor began in Orlando, Florida, six years ago but frontman Vanity - AKA David Jesus Torres – went through a few line-ups before settling on current partner-in-crime Jayy Von Monroe. Initially an iffy metal outfit, they quickly mutated into an even more hideous amalgamation of post-Guetta Euro-cheese and power balladeering, occasionally assisted by the brilliantly named Lady Nogrady, and all dressed up like a dork parrot with an ego the size of Brazil. Vanity’s reputation is extremely sleazy and unpleasant– as any brief dig around the ‘net will indicate – but Blood On The Dance Floor plough on regardless, adhering to their ‘Fuck The Rest, We The Best’ ethos. And as if famine, war and pestilence were not proof enough that there is no God, they’re touring their sixth album across the US this autumn.