SALMON
Ding Dong Lounge, Melbourne
Friday 27 August 2004
The genesis of Kim Salmon's current project lies in taunts from fans for him to return to his punk rock roots. After the softer, acoustic feel of his most recent studio album “Earnest”, Kim has responded to the challenge by developing a stage show centered around the hard rock aesthetic.
Like other rock auteurs such as Pete Townshend (particularly in his 1967-1973 “Quick One While He's Away”/”Tommy”/”Quadrophenia” period), Kim has always been interested in thematic musical projects (you can see hints of it on “Hit Me With the Surreal Feel”, “You Gotta Let Me Do My Own Thing”, and “Earnest”). But whereas Townshend is the patron saint of Rock as High Art, Kim is the personification of intelligent pub rock. With his eponymous instrumental concept piece, Kim has elevated the thrash, grind and grunge of pub rock to its own artistic form.
The Salmon band is suitably impressive. Ash Naylor goes beyond the pop rock of Even to embrace a world of grinding axes and rock star poses. Anton Ruddick looked like a refugee from the Allman Brothers, but with a guitar style located securely in the New York punk tradition, and not the Mid-Western/West Coast 1970s. Dave Graney's fashion statements are always unique, and original. Tonight he was clad in a silk (polyester?) shirt, cowboy chaps and bowler hat – a rock'n'roll fashion statement that only Dave Graney could pull off. Clare Moore is a legend of Australian rock'n'roll, with an ego inversely proportional to the brilliance of her drumming. And Michael Stranges looked like John Belushi doing a pirate sketch on "Saturday Night Live", but drummed liked a man under the captivating spell of hard rock. Penny Ikinger is – at the risk of appearing patronising – plays the part of the kool rock chick, understated but oozing attitude.
Leading this hard rock ensemble, with a fuzz flavoured guitar instead of a conductor's baton, was Kim Salmon, trading tux and tails for T-shirt and jeans. The band united for a festival of scientifically orchestrated power chords, wandering from Led Zeppelin's blues based rock, to the Noo Yawk CGBGs punk rock, to electric ballads. There were no live vocals, only digitially recorded primitive rock screams (think Gravity, I'm Keeping You Alive) and cliched Ramones-style sequential intros.
The set list (which was printed in a flourishing font style, and distributed on the door) was more just a random list of songs. From a thinly-veiled tribute to Kim's Perth punk history (“Cheap and Nasty)”, to slightly corny contemporary references (Punk Fatwa, Axes Evil). “It Wears a Kilt” suggested the UK glam rock of Mick Ronson, The Sweet and Marc Bolan, while Kim flirted with prog rock (the bastard child of concept rock) by dabbling into some Blue Oyster Cult. Displaying a sense of irony that is critical for artistic credibility, Dave Graney led the band through the pretentiously-titled “Guitaronomy Suite in D major”.
This was music developed in a rock'n'roll laboratory and unleashed on the audience with orchestral precision. On one level, this performance could be interpreted as artistic pretension, an extended version of Nigel Tufnell's “Mach”/”Lick My Love Pump” piece in Spinal Tap. But this wasn't about metaphor and allegory, or even hidden psychoanalytic narratives. It was about celebrating the rugged beauty of rock'n'roll, and, more importantly, Kim's endeavour to placate the fans who just want loud rock'n'roll.
If there was one thing missing from this show, it was a suitably grubby pub aesthetic. The Ding Dong Lounge has worthy accoustics, but lacks the pungent stench and punk edge of venues like The Tote and The Esplanade. Rumour has it that Salmon's next outing will be at The Tote in mid-September, and I reckon the Tote will add a certain punk je ne sais quoi to the show.
After the show my fellow Salmon-ites and I grabbed posters from the wall and trapsed around to get them signed by everyone in the band. This was, without doubt, my most shameless piece of autograph hunting since I accosted Greg Chappell on the Adelaide Oval in 1983. But unlike the surly Mr Chappell on that day, each member was happy (if somewhat bemused) to commemorate what was bloody good show. I hope – for the sake of non-Melbournian rock afficiandos – that Salmon appears in other Australian cities. It's a show well worth seeing.
– Patrick Emery
