"DON'T LOOK BACK"
DIED PRETTY performing "Doughboy Hollow"
ED KUEPPER performing "Honey Steels Gold"
Forum Theatre, Melbourne
Friday 15th Feburary, 2008
Words by PATRICK EMERY
Photos by RICHARD SHARMANIn the early 1990s the mainstream music industry 'discovered' the independent music scene. Despite the pretensions revealed in the rhetoric of the era (particularly amongst the so-called movers and shakers of the industry), in a Marxist sense, it was more a series of misguided attempts to commodify the attitude and enthusiasm that tended to differentiate the independent scene from its fat, over-priced and ego driven cousin.
While the release of "Honey Steel's Gold" Ed Kuepper finally brought about the critical and population recognition he'd always deserved (whether as a member of The Saints, Laughing Clowns or in his solo guise(s)), the increase in Died Pretty's local popularity occasioned by the release of Doughboy Hollow in 1991 didn't stop the latter from remaining a band that failed to received the commercial return long owed to them.
Almost 20 years after those seminal albums were released, Kuepper and Died Pretty were asked to team up for the Don't Look Back concert series. While Ed is just as good now as he ever was – maybe he's even better – there were a few people musing (privately, for fear of public retribution) about Died Pretty's ability to cut the mustard after so long off the stage. Sure, Ron Peno is just as animated and enthusiastic as ever, and Brett Myers has lost none of his artistic precision, but recreating an album, and the moment it means to so many is easier said than done.
But what happened tonight was anything but disappointing. This was a night that – musically at least – just got better and better.
Early on things were a bit rough on the domestic front – my daughter misjudged her jump from the couch and hurt her foot, causing disruption to the evening departure times. Shortly after 8 o'clock, however, she'd fallen asleep (with a bag of peas strapped to her ankle) and it was safe to leave. I arrived at the Forum shortly after 8.30pm, with Ed already cranking up a storm.
The Forum itself is visually pleasing – the collage of ancient artistic styles featured on the walls and balconies tend to suggest a Mirabella fire sale, or one person's quick stroll through Greek and Roman artistic history – and the sound is usually pretty good (though small scale support acts tend to suffer from the wide open spaces). But as a venue in which to imbibe alcohol, it sucks the big one.
Last time we'd come here a friend discovered that one particular bar was selling long necks of Cooper's (red and green) for a dollar more than the stubbies – this, obviously, was a red rag to a bull and we had a most enjoyable evening (what we can remember of it). Tonight I approached the bar, where my initial suspicions of a shit beer range were confirmed when the bartender informed me that there was no Cooper's – long or short necked – on offer. So for the absolutely ridiculous per unit price of $6.50, we grabbed some VB cans and made our way into a prime viewing position.
In recent years Ed has left his grumpy stage persona way behind. These days he comes across as a master craftsman content to show anyone who cares just how much fun you can have playing quality rock'n'roll. His guitar style is idiosyncratic, to say the least, more of an awkward shuffle than a set of big rock star moves (a friend muttered 'how long has Ed had Parkinson's?'). Peter Oxley on bass is as solid as his physical frame suggests, and there's no mistaking the unadulterated brilliance of the resuscitated Jeffrey Wegener on drums. The guy on keyboard is largely unknown to us, until another colleague claims to have seen the guy ('I think his name is Al') walking his dog adjacent to Northcote swimming pool in Melbourne's inner north suburbs.
It's all good stuff, though my appreciation of it is dampened by some serious gig talking (which gave me a sense of deja vu, given that the first time I'd seen Ed my then girlfriend had talked so loudly during Ed that a fellow punter had chastised her for disturbing the moment – a criticism I was compelled to agree with). But there was still enough clear aural space to hear "Honey Steel's Gold", "The Way I Made You Feel" (although tonight's version lacked the precise guitar lick most of us have come to know and love) and a typically cascading finale of "Electrical Storm".
With his occasional quips to the crowd, Ed was very much the raconteur, even cracking a smile or two – possibly the first such instance in many years. As it finished, the sense of occasion was palpable and many of us could have walked away happy – had it not been for what we anticipated would come next.
The last time Died Pretty graced a Melbourne stage was some years ago, before Ron Peno had relocated to Melbourne, and long before anyone had the bright idea of getting the band to recreate its "Doughboy Hollow" album. In the intervening years Peno has reinvented himself as a country singer (an artistic trait he claims has been there for longer than anyone’s cared to notice) and Brett Myers has started a family and concentrated on making music beyond the Died Pretty brand, though still choosing to collaborate with Peno.
Despite the thinning hair, and the lines etched across his forehead, Peno is still forever the kid in the candy store (and who’s found the stash of super rich chocolate that’s dangerous for children to imbibe without parental supervision). Bouncing onto stage like a child at their end of year concert performance, Peno is straight into the role he appears to cherish most – the Died Pretty lead singer. On his left Brett Myers remains an imposing figure – there are moments when he looks like he should be playing that code of football that’s popular north of the Barassi Line – and pulls out riff after blistering riff. John Hoey’s keyboards are the signature moments of the "Doughboy Hollow" album, and there’s a roar that comes from the crowd everytime Hoey comes to the fore.
Despite not owning a copy of "Doughboy Hollow" (an old taped copy proved elusive), every song seemed to be familiar to the ear – DC is a clear crowd favourite, and Sweetheart isn’t far behind. Peno, clad in a sheer black shirt that makes me think of Las Vegas meets Radio Birdman, is a man on a mission, jumping, gyrating, shuffling frantically over inch of the stage available. By the time the band has finished running through "Doughboy Hollow", Peno looks like he might be spent, but there’s a glint in his eye that suggests there’s more to come.
And more was certainly to come. Later on I tried to claim there was six songs in the second encore alone, but I think it was just emotion that led me to miscount. Certainly "Stoneage Cinderella" appeared in the first encore, and despite the messy middle section, it was simply a moment to forever cherish. "Everybody Moves" caught the mood perfectly, and as for the rest, well fucked if I can remember them all because I reckon I was almost crying with delight. By the time the set finished, most of us were convinced it would never end, and that we’d crossed the line to a Narnian world where only good rock’n’roll is played. But the lights came on, and we were forced out the door. A golden night to remember forever.
4 3/4
