"The Bands That Ken West Rejects" aka "The Big Day Inn"
Friday, January 26, 2001
@ the Green Square Hotel, SydneyLowdorados/CabinFever/Daredevil/Mystaken/Blurters/Crusaders/Onyas/Further/
High Society/Tito Rivera
Okay, I admit that there were a couple of bands on before the Lowdorados, but on a day when I didn't have to go to work, that was the earliest that I could get myself out of bed (and even then it was only because I'd set the alarm for noon).For those not in the know, Ken West is the co-promoter the Big Day Out, a one-day festival that tours most of the Australian capital cities on and around Australia Day (26th of January), lately extending its reach to New Zealand and from next year apparently to South Africa as well. It's so big it's really three or four festivals in one and some disgruntled people now feel that local Australian acts are being unfairly disregarded or relegated to way down at the bottom of the bill in favour of over paid and over hyped overseas bands.
Personally I couldn't give a shit.
I hate going to big festivals, no matter who's on, and since Ken and his partner Viv not only bring out performers like P.J.Harvey, Queens Of The Stone Age, the Hellacopters, etc who otherwise might not tour here at all and then, more importantly, allow them to play separate shows so that you don't have to stand out in the sun all day, battling for elbow room with a couple of thousand eckied up adolescents, I've got no axe to grind with the BDO, its policies or its promoters.
Hanging around in a pub all day is a different story though - I'm quite prepared to do that. Today was made all the more poignant by being not only this great nation's national day, but also the actual day of the Sydney leg of the BDO traveling extravaganza...
So anyway, let's start with the Lowdorados. Maybe it was the heat; maybe it was the earliness of the hour; but compared to the menacing, psycho-freakout sonic smog of previous encounters, they seemed unusually restrained. Nevertheless they still dished out a solid chunk of rock, which was a perfect way to start the day (my day anyway; of course others had been there for a couple of hours already).
Next it was time to feel the grip of a little Cabin Fever (pictured right). These guys can really vary in style, from what I'd call orthodox stoner to faster Oz/Detroit to something vaguely reminiscent of Peter Perrett doing a Screaming Tribesmen cover. Today we got a bit of everything, so there should have been something to suit everyone (and if there wasn't then you were clearly at the wrong venue).
Then came Daredevil and a change of tone. As Billy Joel once said, "You can't get the sound from a picture in a magazine" (hey the guy might not be the coolest rocker ever, but he did get to fuck a super model, so cut him some slack would you?), but with a solid grounding in stoner anthems topped off by a post graduate diploma from the Big Noise school of Oz Rock, I'd label their repertoire "music to accompany the last judgment" if that's any help.
The Mystaken saw Sally Bailey, former front woman of the much missed Small Hand Gun, making a triumphant return to the Sydney stage. When they coined the word "raucous", they definitely had someone like her in mind and she has lost none of her rock'n'roll fervor since her move to Melbourne. Not since Johnny Thunders passed from this mortal coil has a band's sound been so connected to its attitood, even if "Don't Fuck Wiv Me" and "Make Me" ("Get your rocks off/Get your dacks off/And make me happy") aren't quite "You Can't Put Your Arms Around A Memory".
The Blurters came across as the anti-Midnight Oil. While da Oils mythologize the environmental and anti-nuclear struggles, support equality and oppose discrimination on the grounds of race, creed, gender or sexual orientation, the Blurters' take a radically different (but no less radical) stand in songs like "Beer and Bile", "Public Toilet" and other songs about "putting your dick where it don't belong", while their song "Jabaluka" is not about altruistic protesters but "hippies sitting on their arses".
Perhaps not surprisingly, it was during the Blurters' set that the first major crowd incident took place, though maybe it was surprising that it was the Blurters themselves who caused it. I'm taking the charitable view that it was his concern regarding the common festival problem of dehydration in the crowd that led the lead singer to throw the band's jugs of water over the audience. Unfortunately he happened to let go of one of the jugs as he was doing so. Next thing I knew a woman standing close to me was clutching her head and being escorted out. Shortly thereafter an ambulance arrived and a little impromptu sewing bee seemed to have been convened, although being on the squeamish side when comes to blood, even when it's not my own, I didn't get close enough to the action to be able to say for sure (and anyway, this is an entertainment report, not a news report).
Speaking of surprises though, the Crusaders were the biggest surprise of the day. I'd been sighting band members making the pilgrimage to and from the front bar ever since I arrived, so I feared the worst (like the Hunchbacks, they're at their best when they haven't had a lot time to drink before the show), but bugger me if they didn't turn in one of their best performances in living memory and it wasn't just that they hauled out all their classics like"Wave To The Grave", "We're In Deep Shit" and "I Dig Your Holes", a tender hearted song about a guy who's not prepared to let his girlfriend's burial end their relationship (or perhaps it's just a simple song about someone who wants to help his girlfriend out with a bit of gardening; sure, just like the narrator of Daddy Cool's "Baby Let Me Bang Your Box" merely wanted to play his girlfriend's upright piano).
Since this wasn't one of their own headlining shows, they didn't go to the extent of dressing up in their full regalia, but that was the only corner cut. Otherwise it was truly the quintessential garage fuzz/psych performance.
There was even a surprise guest. Asteroid B612 had been scheduled to play today as well, but had cancelled at the eleventh hour. However bassist Scott Nash was in the audience and joined the Crusaders on stage for a couple of numbers, even taking the over vocal lead for a heartfelt cover of "TV Eye".
Coming on straight after the Crusaders, the Onyas provided the other standout performance of the day. I'd been taking a few photos of each act as the day progressed, usually giving the band three or four songs to warm up first. However within seconds of them taking to the stage guitarist John "Mad" Mack had his shirt off and bassist Richard Stanley responded by removing his trousers, so I realised that I'd better get my shots off quickly, otherwise the women at Kodak Express would be refusing to handle my photos. Just as well that I did, as they were soon both down to their jocks.
You might think that when a band is almost completely naked by the third song then that must be about as far as they can go. You might, but some of the audience didn't, leading to more than one attempt to help Mack get even "closer to nature", while he seemed to be worried only about the spare cigarette he'd lost down the back of his undies. Personally that's the point at which I'd be seriously contemplating giving up smoking altogether, rather than attempting to retrieve that one, but then I'm not an Aussie guitar god. He on the other hand is and with the assistance of beer and electricity, in roughly equal proportions, he conclusively demonstrated why as the band stormed through a few favourites for the crowd.
As a last gesture before leaving the stage (which was showered with plastic cups thanks to the enthusiasm of the audience and the prudence of the management in banning bottles and glass from the area), he also finally gave them the other thing they'd been after (aside from the music that is), by whipping off his jocks and tossing them into the audience, which comically parted in front of the flight path of the unguided underpant missile, like the Red Sea for Moses.
Unfortunately a lot of people seemed to be a little over awed or even punch drunk after this sharp one two from the Crusaders and the Onyas and the ranks were noticeably thinner by the time Further were ready to come on.
By the way, apparently it was Ron Peno, rather than John Needham, who was responsible for their booking at the recent Died Pretty show (which I tell you now in the interests of truth, honesty and accuracy, even if it did make a better story to have had them as the support because someone was having a private joke at everyone's expense, rather than because Ron likes them...). Tonight their big grind riffage was far more in keeping with the tone of the evening and they deserved a better crowd.
High Society gave of their usual best, but were cut down in untimely fashion by a broken string and the absence of a replacement.
Nevertheless they soldiered on to the end of their set, stoic in the face of such adversity.
Finally, it was up to Tito Rivera to close out the day.
Sporting some of the most implausible mullets this side of Penrith and celebrating both the best and the worst of '80s pub rock in roughly equal measure,they inspired the audience to a final frenzy of over participation.
It was a situation predestined to produce "tears before bedtime" and unlike the Blurters' incident, this time it was clearly the audience that came out on top, leaving their bass player to mourn the loss of a new crown, while blood flowed fairly freely from his mouth.
Not the most poetic ending to the day, but that's rock'n'roll I guess.
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