Fabia Palliser gets a sneaky early peek at Punchdrunk’s production of The Masque of Red Death in the Battersea Arts Centre and then heads on to Shoreditch to have her ears assaulted by the Dead Kids.

It all started because we wanted to take the electro-death-punk, worryingly wired, band Dead Kids to Punchdrunk Theatrical’s production of The Masque of Red Death, which is based on Edgar Allen Poe’s short story of the same name. We were intrigued because last year Punchdrunk’s production of Faust was such a massive success, winning the Critics’ Circle Award and generating a considerable amount of publicity and excitement.

Unfortunately, we neither managed to see The Masque of the Red Death, as press were officially barred until the first week of October, nor to take Dead Kids with us, as their time-table clashed with ours. We were, however, invited by Punchdrunk to an exclusive view of the Red Death Late – a masquerade ball, which seamlessly follows the Red Death production; the actors disperse, a band appears from behind a curtain and everyone gets drunk.

Masque perfomers dance together in Prospero's abbey.

From there we went on to see the Dead Kids play at the Shoreditch is Shit night in 333. In light of these invitations, we decided to make the whole thing a night of death and revelry and capture everything on our brand new Lomo camera. Using a fish-eye lens and a red flash, we recorded the innovation and atmosphere of Punchdrunk’s Masque and the hectic behaviour of the Dead Kids.

Punchdrunk’s innovation lies in the company’s attitude towards the audience; rather than watching the show from selected seats, the audience is “given the freedom to roam entire buildings, to follow any theme, plot line or performer they choose, or simply soak up the atmosphere of magical yet fleeting worlds.” In other words, we are supposed to experience the performance, not merely to watch it. It is designed to affect us, because we are literally involved in it. The press co-ordinator described the Red Death Lates to me as “an extension” of the main performance, in which Prince Prospero and his guests attempt to defy Death by retreating to the Prince’s castellated abbeys and throwing a big party. They fail - quite miserably.

An audience member, complete with white mask and death stare

As we arrived, during the final scene, Death himself was walking determinedly towards Prince Prospero, felling those in his wake, while white-masked onlookers stared from the crowd. The audience was utterly riveted, as were we, but our photographer only managed to steal one snap before he was approached by the producer who firmly enforced the press embargo.

The swing band plays as the audience dance

The show ended then, and the Red Death Lates began, but this transformation was almost undetectable. The audience drifted onto the floor space that had been the stage and began to dance happily to the house swing band. It was instantly a party, decadently designed with sweeping curtains, red lighting and atmospheric smoke. Attire ranged from casual chic to elaborate finery. Indeed, most of the audience were in top hats and tails, ball gowns and masks. This celebration of the performance left us eagerly awaiting the Masque of Red Death, and the chance to hit the Red Death Late for a second time, which will feature in the next issue.

A death reveller enjoying the Red Death party.

After Red Death, the fatal night continued with the Dead Kids gig. We arrived to the usual Saturday night Shoreditch mayhem, with two large women – who happened to be in charge of the night at 333 - shouting abuse at the crowds. I believe one of them actually claimed ownership of the pavement. There was some confusion about the guest list (we weren’t on it) but a skinny, blond, German Dead Kid called Jan greeted us and apologised excitedly for the problems. Fifteen minutes later, Jan sent up a triumphant cheer and high-fives all round when we were stamped for entry and went inside.

As with the Red Death Late, the gig was an experience; not least because the bands’ lead vocalist, Michael, started the performance by jumping over the barriers on to the speakers and dancing wildly, in Freddy Mercury fashion, to the opening chords of their first song.

Michael of the Dead Kids winds up the crowd.

Their music and lyrics are suggestive of angry, defiant attitudes towards anything they don’t like and the band gives an emphatic delivery. All five members got the crowd into it, including one especially enthusiastic fan who was invited (or willingly dragged) onstage to grind passionately with Michael as he shouted: “I like it, I like it, don’t like it, don’t like it.” At one point, he opened a song with “1-2-3, FUCK OFF! I went to my Nan’s for Yom Kippur and I didn’t fast… Fuck off!”