By JOHN McPHARLIN
2001
Sydney Live Scene in Review
By JOHN McPHARLIN
This started out to be a Top 10 piece. However I've already burbled at extended length throughout the year over a lot of stuff (shows, CDs) that should be in everyone's Top 10. We had a few amazing reunions for starters: the Lipstick Killers at the Bridge Hotel, X at the Newtown RSL and most unexpected of all the Scientists, even if only for the television cameras. I don't count the Saints' one song reunion, for reasons already stated (and belaboured) elsewhere.
Actually my Top 10 would probably be a Top 17 or some such other double digit prime number. I'll even admit that I'm tempted just to recycle some of my existing verbiage through the magic of "cut and paste" and leave it at that, since in most of those cases I've already said all I've got to say (sometimes even more than I really had to say).
However there were a lot of shows I enjoyed during the year that I never got around to writing about for one reason or another (well, laziness would have been one reason and I'll try to think of another before I get to the end of this ramble around some of the lonelier canyons of my mind). I think it might be better (certainly more instructive) to acknowledge at least some of those otherwise undocumented shows, especially as so many good bands fell by the wayside this year. Venues too, with the closure of the Newtown RSL in particular potentially blowing a major hole in my gig going schedule.
Technically this reminiscence cum post mortem should start at Friday the 29th of December last year (2000). Although none of us knew it yet, the New Christs had just played their last ever show the Saturday before. I remember I went to the Green Square for a show by the Crusaders and a new (or, as it turned out, one off) band calling themselves Johnny Casino & the Sinners. I subsequently caught the Crusaders three times in 2001, the last time being in March. Then things went very quiet for them. For a while around August/September the Green Square had their "10th anniversary" gig listed in the coming attractions. Then one week it was simply no longer on that list. They haven't played there, or anywhere else that I am aware of, since.
Johnny Casino & the Sinners was one of Asteroid B612 front man John Spittles' side projects, with himself on guitar, along with Michael Gibbons (who played guitar in the original line up of Asteroid B612), 300 St Claire bass player Mark Horne (yeah 300 St Claire, there's another band that's been keeping its collective head down and is sorely missed - two gigs in May and not a peep out of them since) and Tim Chillingworth from, I think, the Thurston Howlers amongst others. Memories of this show include an extensive reworking of the old Ray Charles number "I Believe" and a righteous cover of "Dangerous".
Not to be outdone, the Crusaders played a solid set of their surf/garage originals, peppered with a few readings from the book of Iggy ("Loose" and "TV Eye" foremost amongst them).
Then on Friday the 5th of January, once again at the Green Square, there was the first reunion of the year, a get together of Mother Jones. In the cover notes for Didier Georgieff's "Storming the Citadel" tribute to Citadel records, they refer to having had an album due for release in 1998. Did it ever come out before they chucked it in? I've certainly never seen any sign of it.
At this stage I'd taken a few photographs on the Rifles harbour cruise, but wasn't bothering to lug my camera along to all the gigs yet, so there's no pictorial record of this show, at least not by me. I do remember a photographer asking bass player Andy Newman to step forward so that he could get a clear shot of drummer Murray Shepherd from the side and receiving a cheerful but obstructive "Fuck off" in response, so this probably wouldn't have been a good gig at which to have started my photographic odyssey anyway. It was all just good clean fun though, as was Newman's baiting of the audience with the opening notes of "City Slang" as the band wound up its performance. Highlights of their set, though the memory's getting a bit dim now, were their cover of "Sad TV" (which they recorded for the aforementioned Citadel tribute) and the Easybeats' "St Louis".
One of the supports that night was the Hunchbacks, though with a reduced lineup due to the temporary (I was assured) absence of guitarist Michael Klarenaar. Bassist/vocalist Carl Ekman got to indulge his blues cravings (and even, in his own words, "butcher a Robert Johnson song") so he was happy. I got to see them one more time in February and missed at least one other gig before they stopped doing gigs around town. Later I bumped into Carl at another gig (one of the Roll Cage gigs I think) and he announced that the band had called it a day.
The Crawfords were another support that night, featuring several former members of the Burgstrums, although they all claimed to have met for the first time only half an hour previously in the front bar. They also claimed that this was not only their first ever gig, but also their first rehearsal! I don't think they played again after that night, though a couple of them did turn up about a fortnight later in the Spoilt Little Shits, who then promptly vanished without a trace as well. Highlights of the Crawfords' set were their cover of the "Gilligans Island" theme and that passionately performed paean to beer, "VB", both old Burgstrums' favourites.
Fourth and final support for the night was the Killer Klowns. I remember this as being their first gig with new front man Paul O'Neill and that it was a real baptism of fire for him, with constant microphone problems beyond his control throughout their set. Nevertheless they're the only band from that night still going.
As previously mentioned, the Spoilt Little Shits played a couple of weeks later, supporting High Society (pictured right) and Knucklehead - a band that was getting better every time I saw them and then bam! Straight into the wall. High Society at least are still making their presence felt from time to time and there's even the promise of an album in the new year.
The time around the end of January tends to be taken up with the Big Day Out. Well not my time, since I detest and actively avoid big outdoor events, but there are a lot of related gigs by bands brought out for the BDO, so around this time I caught PJ Harvey, Queens of the Stone Age and Richard Thompson. Actually I think Mr Thompson was here for WOMAD, since merely being a brilliant guitarist isn't a requirement, or even much help, for the BDO and he's got no visible tattoos or body piercings (nor non-visible ones either, I strongly suspect). Subsequently I caught J. Mascis (with Mike Watt, but sadly no Ron Asheton on this leg of their tour) at the Metro.
PJ Harvey: Loved her, but unfortunately I'm still stuck in her earlier, angry period ("I'm tired and I'm bleeding for you", "I'll make you lick my injuries", etc) while she's mellowed and moved on. A mate got the tickets, choosing the reserved seating over general admission/standing only, unfortunately without spotting that the standing area was IN FRONT of the reserved seating, which then became reserved standing if you wanted to see anything for your 50-odd dollars entrance fee.
Queens of the Stone Age: Couldn't quite see what the fuss was all about I'm afraid. The woman rubbing up against me for most of their set was from Melbourne, had been to their show in Brisbane and had tickets for every show they'd be playing in Melbourne, so they're obviously reaching some people, even if they went completely over my head.
Richard Thompson: Fuckin' brilliant guitarist and songwriter. Unfortunately it doesn't look like it will ever be financially viable for him to bring his full band out here, so all we can ever hope for is flying solo visits armed with an acoustic guitar.
J. Mascis: Good sure, but I cannot for the life of me comprehend why he's such a cult figure. Mike Watt doing the Stooges covers (that Ron Asheton did at the US shows when he joined them on stage) was definitely the highlight for me.
Looks like I got around to writing about everything else I saw in February, plus most of March, except for a visit by the Working Class Ringos with the inimitable Charlie Owen and former Bad Seed Conway Savage (playing both as a solo support and as a member of the band), for what proved to be a disappointingly loose and slowly disintegrating set. The band is from Melbourne and at one stage they seemed to be coming up here fairly regularly, but I haven't seen any gigs advertised for at least six months. However word is that they're still pretty active down in Melbourne, so we don't need to go makin' no down payments on no headstones nor put no funeral notices in the paper just yet fortunately.
To label them "alternative country" is probably to miss the point but, at their best, they're certainly country and at the same time alternative to any concept of "country" you might have already. Under "related artists", Chaos Music lists: Steely Dan, Tex Perkins and Powderfinger. Nope, wrong again in my opinion (Powderfinger? Steely Dan? You shittin' me?). The closest reference point I can offer is countrified Stones, "No Expectations" mixed with a little "Sweet Black Angel" (and perhaps just a whiff of Died Pretty's "Blue Sky Day" on the passing breeze).
The other undocumented show for March was the Interstellar Villains reunion, which simply left me wondering "Why bother?". The night wasn't totally without interest though, with the Crusaders putting on a terrific performance, including a blistering version of Devo's "Freedom of Choice" that would put most Devo tribute bands to shame, for what turned out to be my last opportunity to see them.
It was also my second encounter with Roll Cage (right). Still clearly slightly nervous, front man Ashley Thomson introduced the band using a false German accent, claiming that they were Europeans on a working holiday ("Ve haft been enjoyink travellink aroun yoor beuztiful contree") before going into the song "Summer Of Pussy", immediately causing almost every woman in the room to walk out in exasperation and disgust before he got to the first chorus. However once he'd got a reaction, he seemed to settle down and the set went smoothly.
Oops, now that I think of it, March ended with two shows (30th & 31st) by Melbourne band Hands Of Time. These guys arrived on the back of a huge reputation and although they were pretty good, they didn't quite scale the heights which word of mouth had erected in advance on their behalf, due in large measure I suspect to tiredness on the Friday after the long drive up and intermittent equipment failures on both nights.
On the Saturday night, the nominal headlining act (The Baddies) actually went on first like a support act, despite it being their CD launch, because they didn't want to play drunk and didn't want to have to wait half the night to start drinking... Even then, their set had to be cut short when the batteries in the guitarist's radio mike failed and he declined the offer of a spare cable. While using a cable might have curtailed most of his usual audience roaming activities (sorta like the Onyas, except he keeps his trousers on the whole time), I suspect that it was the siren song of the demon drink which was really behind his decision.
April started with the Studio 22 recording of the Scientists session, which has been well documented by the Barman. All I can add is that while it was loud, it certainly was nowhere near loud enough to justify the floor director handing out earplugs before the show, although he did so anyway. I also reckon that the performance was sharp enough to justify them getting together for a few more gigs or even going into the studio and cranking out another album, but we all know that's never gonna happen. In fact, Kim Salmon has been surprisingly quiet ever since this show.
Lemme see, what else have I missed? Midnight Oil played at Manly Leagues on the 10th of April. I couldn't help noticing that my ticket number was 667, one after the beast, but if the Prince of Darkness and Lord of Flies himself was indeed present amongst us that night, I didn't manage to spot him in the crowd. As with the State Theatre show some eight months previously, they concentrated on their latest release with far too many acoustic numbers for my money. I'm not saying the Oils have lost it, but they certainly haven't been flashing it around in public much lately. Peter Garrett complained in passing about having to miss that night's episode of "West Wing", which did little to raise my opinion of his political nouse or his ability to operate a video recorder. However, all was forgiven during the songs on which they really did lash out as a fully plugged in electric band (e.g. "Progress", "Forgotten Years").
Looks like I kept a fairly good grip on things for a couple of months after that. Ashley Thomson's Oz Rock Fest came and went in May, leaving a trail of joy and destruction in its wake. Died Pretty's Studio 22 session (which I missed the recording of, due to a prior commitment) was broadcast in June and then Whammo (or rather Waterfront, as it was known to all and sundry for the bulk of its existence) shut its doors for the last time, after which the Barman went on a tour of hostelries in the Newtown area for the rest of the afternoon, ending up at the Newtown RSL for the X reunion (pictured right) that evening in a heightened state of consciousness and practically speaking in tongues. I however took it slow and steady, despite which none of my pictures of that event came out anywhere near as well as his.
However in July I really took my eye off the ball, allowing shows by the Underground Lovers (right) and Ian Rilen (& the Love Addicts) to go unrecorded. The Undies opened their set at the Annandale with a couple of tracks from "Mallboy" ("Suburban Sprawls" and "Crunchy Payola Sweet") and then played a whole lot of stuff I wasn't familiar with, though "Excerpt from 'A Winters Day'" was definitely in there somewhere and "Starsigns" was one of the encores. It was a moody, magnificent but also slightly menacing evening; stuffed if I can remember who the support band was though - perhaps I got there late.
That was at the Annandale. Ian Rilen & the Love Addicts played the Excelsior for two nights the following weekend and we were told that both shows were being recorded for a future live album (I was at the Friday night show - Friday the 13th as luck would have it). At that stage they were still talking about playing in New York on the back of the X tour to the US, so I guess things hadn't yet broken down irretrievably at that point.
I certainly should have written up that gig, but the shock of seeing how the front bar had been so extensively remodeled in order to allow the number of pokies on the premises to be doubled sent me into a state of shock every time I thought about it! I do remember that the support act that evening was a Brisbane band called Blood Idols, a trio who played a set that mainly sounded like Green Day/Living End outtakes, though with some welcome additional buzz saw guitar grind and even a little Clash-style old school punk thrown in to keep it interesting.
Ian Rilen & the Love Addicts (right) stuck largely to amped up versions of the songs on his solo album, "Love Is Murder", sounding for the most part like a cross between Leonard Cohen, revealing a previously well hidden mean streak, and George Thorogood after developing a serious attitude problem. Rilen played guitar and Cathy Green played bass - as if they'd been "promoted" one instrument and then a new drummer had been slipped in at the bottom (anyone remember that hilarious band history Ashley used to have on the Panadolls' site, describing how he'd been progressively "demoted" from guitar to bass to drums?).
The Love Addicts are actually a four piece, with a second guitarist really filling out the live sound (I'm tempted to call him the "lead" guitarist, except that would tend to imply some precedence over Mr Rilen and we all know that no one takes precedence over Mr Rilen!). The music isn't as fast and furious as X, but you still could hardly call it mellow by any stretch of the imagination.
It's bent electric blues with a country tinge, but "country" mainly in the sense of remote, withdrawn people, living outside the mainstream suburban sprawl, who own guns and shoot things - dingoes, foxes, feral cats, annoying neighbours, unfaithful lovers... Sure he'd like to be your hoochie coochie man but, when the opportunity arises, he's just as likely to punch you out and steal your car ("I'm a bad man when I'm drinkin'/You can guess the rest"). Despite that, it seemed that whenever he indicated a thirst one of the women worshipping close to the stage could be relied upon to rush off to the bar and return clutching a handful of tequila shooters.
However when you listen to the lyrics, he's the victim at least as often as the aggressor; being dumped by a succession of girlfriends ("Booze To Blame", "No Fixin' It", "Bad For Good") or getting the usual cease and desist correspondence from his "old lady's lawyer" ("Letter"). No wonder the most heartfelt love song in his repertoire is dedicated to a car.
The second weekend of August gave me one of those contrasts that only rock can throw up - Melbourne's Dead Salesmen (right) on the Friday and Roxy Music on the following Monday. You can forget your Boz Scaggs and your Robert Palmer, Brian Ferry is the King of Cool and the Sultan of Smooth. I was amazed at how many oldies they played (we're talking right back to that first album when their music could have gone either way, as much sequined Velvet Underground as it was slick, glammed up pop). The two women sitting next to me were equally amazed. Having told me at some length what great fans they were, they proceeded to get noticeably bored and agitated at anything older than "Love Is The Drug". Fans? Bah! Easy listening radio blow-ins if you ask me!
Comprising four of the original members (Ferry, MacKay, Manzanera and Thompson), plus the legendary Chris Spedding and an over abundance of keyboard tinkerers, we were treated to a couple of hours of contending cool showmanship and self-mocking glam which, while it sometimes overbalanced into arena rock, was still a dazzling display of "wide screen" pop ("cinerama poperama"). Most un-pub rock I know, but sometimes the ladies just need to get frocked up and go somewhere sophisticated.
The Dead Salesmen were a completely different kettle of fish. Angst and uncertainty served up on a solid backbeat; a series of cries for help masquerading as colour postcards. "I want to be protected/Nobody wants to live on love alone" they sang in "Sylvia". I once heard a great story about them, how they were booked to play at a party, helped themselves to a bit of what was being passed around and then, without realizing what they were doing, blasted through their entire 90 minute set in barely 50 minutes...
The show on this night (Friday the 10th of August) was significantly less frantic, but no less passionate, even if most of the audience seemed to be friends of the support act and paying scant attention when it was show time for the Salesmen (and women, since they'd added a female keyboard player in the two years since I last saw them). Fortunately the band refused to be discouraged in the face of this rude disinterest, giving us instead a lively set with particular attention to their latest album "Amen", which seems to be surprisingly upbeat in comparison to their earlier releases, plus a cover of Dylan's "Tangled Up In Blue" that exchanged the undertone of self-mocking introspection in the original for solemn testimony, bordering on obsessive confession.
August was also notable for a run of shows by the Celibate Rifles, documented elsewhere (and pictured right), plus the beginning of a run of shows by Louis Tillett, which would continue well into September and is worthy of a separate review to itself - which it shall have shortly, I promise you.
Aside from the Moops, now the Persian Rugs, September was mainly Tillett time for me, though I managed to catch a rare show by the Finkers, with the Intercontinental Playboys (right) and Two Pin Hot Wire (a band about which I know nothing except that it's Swivel Disc Records boss and one time Brother Brick drummer Craig Jackson, Sabina Collins from Greg Brady Overdrive and someone on guitar I know I should have recognized, but just cannot put a name to as I write this). I got to the Annandale well in time to catch their full set, but unfortunately they were playing at the Vic on the Park that evening... I guess that puts me at stage one (stage two, you forget to zip up; stage three, you forget to zip down). By the time I got to the Vic on the Park they were into their last number, an aggressive slab of hard noise that left me reeling, practically bitch-slapped.
This was actually the launch party for the second issue of Off The Hip magazine, about which more in due course - catch me over in the reading room. The Finkers played a very smooth set "from our first two albums" (what, there's a third that I don't know about?) and took turns in accidentally knocking over a mike stand into the drum kit. The Intercontinental Playboys then showed them (and the rest of us) what smooth is, at the same time breaking in a new bass player. Strangely they didn't make him stand right on the side so that he'd be easy cut out of photos and publicity shots if he didn't work out. They must be confident that things will work out and that they're going to be able to hang onto this one for some time.
I don't think there's anything about October I haven't told you that you need to know, except maybe I should highlight the Lost Weekend festival, which has been alluded to in several recent power pop CD reviews. I only caught the final session: Upsets (Sydney), Lynchpin and P76 (both Melbourne), Pyramidiacs (Sydney again) and Innocents (Tasmania).
All Upsets (right) gigs get compared with the monumental performance of 8th Sept 2000. They didn't quite scale those heights this evening, but they were in reliable form nevertheless, with front man Tony Harper letting fly and bounding all over the stage when not tied to the microphone by the need to administer the vocals. Shit I'd love for these guys to put out a full album. Talk of a tour of Spain persists, since the Spaniards should eat these guys up, so maybe that'll force them back into the studio beforehand, as they'll need to have something in hand to tour on.
Lynchpin and P76 (pictured right, with Bill Gibson guesting) both played pure guitar pop, with P76 the more dynamic of the two - especially when joined on stage by Eddie Owen and Bill Gibson from Pyramidiacs. A lot of the P76 album was recorded with two guitars and though functioning well as a trio, the extra guitar definitely added depth and colour to their sound. Gibson of course is an asset every time he opens his mouth.
Next up, the Pyramidiacs played a set so suave and slick it took the Innocents to top them. Highlights of the Pyramidiacs' set were Owen's opening "Can You Feel It" and closing "Fickle", O'Regan's "It's A Long Way Home" and Gibson's "Gotta Be A Way Around It" (actually written by Eddie as well, but when Bill sings it, he owns it). Much deserving of a run, but left on the bench, were O'Regan's "Home Of The Brave" from the latest album and Owen's "Everything" (yep, I'm gonna keep on harping on about it).
The Innocents (right) had the advantage of surprise on their side, since who remembered them from 20 years ago? Well, the organisers of the International Pop Overthrow in Los Angeles for a start. Something I do remember is them being on The 7:30 Report (or one of those "after the official news, fill in the gap until we're out of the kiddie/family programming time slot and can start showing some serious violence" tabloid programs masquerading as journalism anyway). Band everyone's forgotten about reforms due to unprecedented offer from international festival. Who, the Innocents? Never heard of them. Seemed like one of those passing "feel good" fillers, like some orphan getting her pet rescued from a storm water drain, but fuck me - it was for real and so are they.
With Michael Carpenter filling in for them on drums, they stepped up to the microphones, acknowledged that we all (they as well as the audience) had given up "The Bill" and a repeat of "Seachange" to be there that evening and then serenely took us through a set that was an object lesson in pure pop; nimble and elegant, but neither shallow nor frivolous; no additional session musicians, backing tapes or trick effects, as everyone can sing (bloody well) and play their own guitars; and some impressive original tunes to round out the package.
Challenger 7 were also initially listed to play at this festival, but slipped quietly off the bill before the big day. Not dead, just resting we've been assured. Well, Stu hasn't been seen out in public since Sean Greenway died; Dan Bell is now devoting himself full time to the Scruffs and Marty Doo also seems to be missing in action. Their failure to pull it all together for the Lost Weekend pop festival, even if it had only been for that one night, pretty much signaled the end as far as I'm concerned. However Ian Underwood insists that there will be at least a studio only album in the new year, to be recorded with a volunteer rhythm section. I for one hope that he does manage to pull it together.
Oh shit, I've just remembered - Butthole Surfers at the Metro supported by Nunchucka Superfly on the 10th. This was an 11th hour decision after a prior engagement was cancelled on me at the last minute. Unfortunately I didn't get to see Nunchucka Superfly, as this show was the first night that the Metro was using its new "second" room and as both shows were sold out and scheduled to start at the same time, chaos reigned. I took one look at the queue and went across the road for a long, slow coffee; came back half an hour later and the queue still seemed to be just as long. Stuff it, no choice but to get on the end then and wait... and wait. Leaning against the brickwork, I could just make out that Nunchucka Superfly were playing, but couldn't pick the song. Shit they must have been loud inside!
I still don't know what to make of the Butthole Surfers. Back before "experimental" became practically synonymous with "bullshit", this is what you would have called "experimental". If you ignore their stomach-churning home movies of car accident victims being cut from wreckage and surgical procedures (when I could bear to look a the screen, it looked like a sex change operation; if it wasn't that, it was certainly a bloke having something pretty awful - and permanent - done to the old tool kit). I probably only really enjoyed about a third of the show, but there was definitely some good music buried in there somewhere. I guess not all experiments end in success.
On the 2nd of November, TISM were back in town (at the Metro as well), for the first time in a couple of years. Since they all wear masks and their identities have never been publicly revealed, it's not possible to tell from one show to the next if there have been any line-up changes. However the last time I saw them, it seemed to me that only about three of the performers were originals, while the rest were just window dressing. This time there might have been as many as five originals, but the set still lacked sparkle, with even old favourites like "Defecate On My Face" and their tribute to the late River Phoenix ("He'll Never Be An Old Man River") seeming a trifle mechanical and uninspired.
Not so their costumes though, which were nowhere near as elaborate as previous outings but still worked spectacularly well under the Metro's lighting, being just black body suits, balaclavas and lengths of tinsel hanging down from their shoulders to form shimmering capes - under the extensive, ever changing stage lights the tinsel sparkled, twinkled and radiated like personal rainbows. The new single "(You're) Only Five Yards From A Fuckwit" did come across well, as did the closing "Amway, Amway, Amway/Death, Death, Death", so maybe there's some hope.
Supports for the evening were the ever dependable High Society (who I would not have thought would be the right choice for a TISM audience, but who proved once again that there is no audience they can't win over with hard work and harder rock action) and Six Foot Hick, who were a trifle hamstrung by the height of the stage and the crash barrier, which prevented them from getting down off the stage and mixing it face to face with the audience, as is their want normally.
On Saturday the 10th of November, the Thermals should have been playing at the Green Square, but the wheels had come off by that time. I've attempted to exorcise some of my anguish and sorrow over this event elsewhere, but I still went to that gig anyway as both Roll Cage and the Meek were playing. This was the first outing for Roll Cage as a four piece, having added a keyboard player (formerly with the Funeral Clowns). In typical fashion, Ashley introduced him to the audience as, "Ned, for the benefit of those of you who haven't already met him in prison...". This, for my money, was their best gig yet, with Ashley brimful of confidence and undeterred by the fact that "Summer of Pussy" failed to clear the room this time. I couldn't help remarking to him after the set that if they kept playing like that, people would start mistaking them for a real band.
Other bands on this bill were the Meek (they may have changed their name to Real Meek, but they haven't changed their drum kit yet), who played another good, bass heavy slab of hard rock, sounding like stoner musicians who have swapped their bongs for beer glasses, and 9 Volts, who were very "big rock" when I last saw them about a year ago, but this time played some pretty hardcore punk that got a lot of people dancing, but didn't do much at all for me (except for a couple of riffier numbers and one tune that was more in a Bad Religion vein).
Sunday the 18th of November I was packed into the Bridge Hotel, along with a large number of other people I don't remember ever seeing at a gig before), for the triumphant return of Eric Burdon & the New Animals (though minus Aynsley Dunbar; there was a new drummer on the stool this time around). We seemed to have to wait an excessive length of time after the support act had cleared off and many in the crowd got audibly impatient in the interim, with a special award going to the woman behind me who whinged loud and long about people moving into the vacant space in front of her and blocking her view. "Don't these people realise they're blocking my view?", she asked rhetorically several times. My mate and I simply ignored her (if the space is there and you don't take it up yourself, you've no right to complain if someone else does - what did she think she had, a reserved standing room ticket?) but the large lump of a guy standing next to us allowed himself to be bullied and brow beaten into moving aside. Obviously neither of them had been to many pub shows in the last... decade?
In case you're in any doubt, Eric Burdon's still got it (by the bucketful) and shows every sign of soldiering on and on, just like the bluesmen he admires so much, until they nail him into that pine box. The moment he stepped onto the stage, the entire preceding delay was instantly forgiven. In interviews to promote this tour he'd mentioned having made a new record recently, but there were no hints of any new songs in the set, which was wall to wall hits: "Don't Bring Me Down", "Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood", "It's My Life", "We Gotta Get Out Of This Place", "Monterey", "San Francisco Nights", "See See Rider", an excellent version of "When I Was Young"... The set just went on and on, with no song needing any introduction.
After they left the stage, there was universal acclaim and immediate calls for an encore. Since they hadn't played "House Of The Rising Sun" I knew they'd have to be back soon and so they were, going straight into "Sky Pilot". Shit, forgot about that one. Then "House Of The Rising Sun". Ah, knew it! There are a lot of sad old bastards making a living by doing the rounds with a threadbare bagful of old hits. Eric Burdon is not one of them. Even though you're so familiar with his repertoire that it seems like most of the songs must have been genetically imprinted on your DNA before you were born, when you witness him performing them, it's like you're catching the fever for the first time.
Saturday the 24th of November was another good show at the Vic on the Park. Unfortunately the Upsets were a little patchy compared to their Lost Weekend performance (and this despite occasional assistance from everybody's favourite guest vocalist Bill Gibson), though when it all came together it was still blinding. They closed the night out, even going a little over time in the process (Michael Couvret: "Hey, it's a quarter to..."; Tony Harper: "Bullshit, we've still got six songs to go, don't worry about the time!"). Aside from the originals featured on their EP, highlights of the night included a driving cover of "Shake Some Action" and their usual meaty covers of "Another Girl, Another Planet" and Cheap Trick's "Surrender".
The Pyramidiacs however were right on their game throughout their entire set and a band I'd never seen before (Guddling) opened the proceedings and took me completely by surprise. I knew Clodhopper guitarist Mark Lewis had been playing around with a drum kit, gigging around town with the aggressively retro Hooray For Everything covers band, but I found this evening that in a proper pop setting his drumming has been progressing in leaps and bounds.
I've since managed to snare a copy of their EP, so I'll save my praise of the band's songs for when I get around to reviewing it and can do the job properly, restricting myself right now just to noting that their indie guitar driven pop is pretty pleasant. So pleasant in fact that I had to detour on my way to the Bubble Vicious gig at Bar Broadway a fortnight later in order to catch Guddling's opening set at the Annandale. Fortunately they played another good set, not letting themselves be put off by being rostered onto the stage 45 minutes before the official start time, with a consequent predictable shortage of bodies in the audience. They were worth the price of admission on their own, so I could then head on to Bar Broadway with a clear conscience.
Thursday the 6th of December is the date I'm talking about. Bubble Vicious are a trio who give the impression of a cross between Nitocris and PJ Harvey in her early, angry period. The lyrics, at least those I could make out, were a little unfocused but there appeared to be an abundance of rock grrl aggression, which was certainly matched by the energy of the performance. This night's show was a launch for a new web site, which wasn't actually ready on the night, nor is it now as I type this, but may finally be up by the time you read this. Hmm, just like your typical record launch in fact...
Saturday the 8th of December was the all day Homebake, featuring a reformation by the Hoodoo Gurus, which I of course missed due to my previously noted aversion to big outdoor events... plus the organisers wouldn't come up with a photographer's pass because they'd already given out "enough free tickets to other web sites that are doing the same thing". Oh yeah, same as the I-94 Bar? Why don't you point me at a couple of them then?
Saturday the 8th of December was also originally set to see a return engagement by Nanker Phelge at the Exe, but unfortunately this fell through at the last minute.
Friday the 14th of December saw the return of the Lowdorados (to the Green Square) after far too long an absence. At least, having oscillated several times between calling themselves the Dirty Low and the Lowdorados, it is my understanding that they have now settled back on the Lowdorados as their regular moniker. Last time I saw them, they were down to two members following the non-appearance of their bass player. This time they were up to full strength and then some, with 300 St Claire's Mark Horne now apparently their regular bass player, plus a second guitarist and even one of the Green Square's two regular sound guys joining in on keyboards.
They used to bill themselves as "Neil Young on bad acid", but I don't think that ever did them justice. I have always heard a pretty raw but distinct Scientists influence in their music and while they were nowhere near their fiercest for this show, they'd still worked themselves up into a pretty primal state before the set was over.
Other bands on the bill were Asteroid B612, in acoustic mode, and Deadwood 76, who are extremely alt.country. David Alan Coe's "Longhaired Redneck" (you might recognise it from its chorus of "My long hair just can't cover up my red neck") was a highlight of a set which didn't feature too much of the sort of music that gets played around this residence.
Meanwhile even the 'roids had gone full on country for this outing (so country in fact that you could have got saddle rash just from listening to them) with Sheriff Spittles, resplendent in a fringed rodeo shirt, leading the good ol' B612 boys (brother Grahame and lonesome cowpoke Scotty Nash) through a set that mixed a couple of new originals earmarked for the next album with various covers of songs that have never sounded quite so, ah... "rural" to me before.
On the 20th, the Monarchs played their official Christmas show, but I reckon that's recent enough to be worth a review on its own, and you'll find it here. Hmm, I think that clears the slate for 2001 then. Roll on 2002!
Finally, just because the Barman seems to like this sort of thing:
Best Show of the year: Oz Rockfest 2, Saturday 19th May: Roll Cage, 300 St Claire, Pig Iron, Ampirellas, Mystaken, Muscle Car, Thermals, Powder Monkeys, Bored!; a day down at the pub doesn't get any better than this.
Best book of the year: Blunt, "A Biased History of Australian Rock"; no contest.
Best CD of the year: Deep Reduction, "2"; Dr Tek and Mr Younger together again and not just to relive old glories - how could I choose anything else?
Best mail order (local): Headmiles; note the unequivocal promise of promptness and service on the mail order page -
I SHIP ALWAYS WITHIN 24 HOURS ALWAYS (exept for January when i'm off surfing and chasing pussy!!)Best mail order (overseas): Bomp; this new woman they've got looking after the mail order is right on the ball - answers emails promptly, sends the stuff out straight away... She's completely reversed my opinion of their service.
Of course I also went to a lot of shows and bought a lot of stuff that we wouldn't bother discussing here - I do have interests and a life outside Oz Rock. No, really, I do. Honest.
Footnote 1: The first show I ever reviewed for the Bar was Died Pretty. That was in May last year (2000) and since then I've written about seventy reviews (shit, I sure do seem to have a lot of words in me). Drum Media is the main free street press paper/gig guide in Sydney. Over the roughly eighteen months that I've been doing these reviews only about seven (e.g. 10%) of those shows were also reviewed in that august publication and at least four of those were bands from overseas. Sure they support local music too, but all too often it's not the sort of local music that this web site is dedicated to. I think that, long term, that has to be a real cause for concern.
Footnote 2: After concluding this rambling round up of the year's events, including the preceding footnote, I have learned that the Scientists will reform for two gigs at the Annandale Hotel in early February 2001. Drum Media, bless their little hearts, are promoting that gig themselves.
