- Music
- 29 May 12
Dance acts don’t get any crazier than The Bloody Beetroots. They talk about the serious message behind their good-time music.
If his pseudonym didn’t tell you that Sir Bob Cornelius Rifo – one half of odd-ball electro duo The Bloody Beetroots – is a little off-kilter then the electro-dance remix magician makes it explicitly clear while describing his most cherished live performance.
“I don’t remember which festival it was. I was basically trying to shout out ‘WARP 1977!’ The little fucking metal thing in the microphone jumped down my throat,” Rifo explains. “I choked. Then I started to puke and pray at the same time. It was fantastic.”
Since its 2007 inception as a solo project, The Bloody Beetroots has evolved into a high-energy DJ dance partnership. DJ Tommy Tea joins Rifo onstage turning tables. Together, the pair blend electro, punk, acid house, and hip hop to create the ultimate chaotic, anarchic club atmosphere.
“I love to have fun with people, and want to keep it that way,” says the Italian producer and photographer. “But I also want to keep it kind of serious, because I believe in what I do.”
The Bloody Beetroots wear signature Grendel masks that cover their faces onstage, à la Daft Punk and Deadmau5.
“I really love preserving my privacy,” said Rifo. “I don’t give a fuck about being famous. I only care about music.”
The Bloody Beetroots gained fame with remixes and production work.
“I didn’t expect to get so big,” Rifo marvels. “It’s the power of the songs that keeps the audience on the dancefloor.”
The friends are involved in a number of projects: they’re recording rockabilly remixes, working with several well-known, unnamed Canadian artists, and are in talks to film a movie based on The Bloody Beetroots albums. In March, Rifo released an eclectic book of photography called Black Sheep, a collection of 20 portraits of the Venetian’s friends.
With so much on their plate, why did The Bloody Beetroots decide to bring their infectious electro-tinged set to Dublin?
“I didn’t decide it,” he said. “They called me asking if I wanted to play, and I was like, ‘People in Dublin are fucking crazy, fuck yes!’”