The Onyas
Asteroid B612
Whopping Big Naughty/
300 St Claire
@ Green Square Hotel, Sydney
Saturday, May 5 2001
What a turn up for the books - tonight I was punctual but the first band was late! With four bands on the bill, I'd expected an early kick off and made a supreme effort to get there at the advertised time (especially since it was 300 St Claire who were opening), but when I got there they were still setting up, leaving more than enough time for a contemplative beer before the action started in earnest.
When
the moment came it was worth the wait, even if they did have to cut their
set short due to their late start. After a considerable lay off (this being
their first gig this year), they're definitely back with a vengeance. As has
been documented in previous reviews, these guys have been shifting steadily
from their initial stoner stance to a more forthright hard rock posture, retaining
some of the stoner expressionism but driving the songs forward with an ever
escalating dosage of beer drenched dynamism.
I can't help noticing that they've been associating with Asteroid B612 fairly regularly (not only have they been appearing on the same bills, but bassist Mark Horne aka "Mark Maniac" also moonlights in "Johnny Casino & the Sinners", a side project of 'roids front man John Spittles), so it's possible that a little of Mr Spittles' fervent rock'n'roll evangelism has been rubbing off. On the other hand, the members of 300 St Claire have got a solid rock pedigree of their own, so perhaps they don't need any outside help. Whatever the cause, the result is the kind of driving Oz/Detroit-via-Memphis-and-Chicago guitar-based rawk that picks you up and doesn't let you down.
Whopping Big Naughty are a post punk/hard noise trio which is apparently the result of a collision between the Hayes and Oxley clans, with the youngest Oxley occupying the drum stool behind the youngest Hayes, while none of the bass player's relatives appear to be famous enough to get him into any of the band's bios. With the night telescoping in on itself, during their a short set they seemed to be trying to do for dishcord what Hendrix did for feedback.
Time
then for another beer, so I stepped out to the bar just in time to catch Hunchbacks
front man Carl Ekman slipping money into one of the new poker machines recently
installed beside the front bar. For a local musician surely this is tantamount
to consorting with the enemy. I hastily (well, after I got my beer anyway)
remonstrated with him, but to no avail. As a long serving foot soldier in
the never-ending rock'n'roll guerilla war against bland and bloodless commercial
radio muzak, he seemed to think he'd earned himself a little of the other
sort of R'n'R.
Back in the band room, it was time for some real 'roid rage with Asteroid B612 (or "Asteroid BLIZ" as the Drum Media advert had said for several weeks until it was finally corrected - obviously a bad case of someone not being able to read someone else's hand writing and being surprisingly clueless when it comes to the subject of local bands). Although billed below the Onyas, the 'roids don't play second fiddle to anyone and took little time in making that fact clear to anyone in the audience who wasn't previously aware of it.
This
is the first gig of theirs I've managed to catch this year, as they dropped
out of the Big Day Inn line up back in January and their only gig since then
conflicted with the Hands Of Time show during their brief foray up from Melbourne.
Despite the limited number of recent public outings, the moment they were
out of the blocks they were blazing down the track like they'd been shot out
of a cannon. No need to ease into it - this is a band that doesn't just carry
the flame, they pour on plenty of petrol and other combustibles of their own.
For those so far unable to catch them live, their new album "Readin'
Between The Lines", released at long last on Full Toss Records, delivers
the goods pretty much as promised in the prospectus and should give a practical
prÈcis of what you've been missing. However the live experience definitely
remains the crucial experience. Somebody call the fire brigade, these guys
are HOT!
On my way out to the front bar for another beer between bands, I passed Carl again. This time he was making an electronic withdrawal from the cash machine and delighting in the fact that he'd finally found a machine that "pays out all the time"...
With
a decade of hard livin' and hard rockin' performances behind them (their recently
released "Heterospective" collection is billed as "celebrating
10 years they can't even remember"), the Onyas don't play second fiddle
to anybody else either. Possessing enough attitood for any three New York
punk acts, their music is always fast and furious, as is forcefully demonstrated
by the "Heterospective" collection which, even though it contains
13 songs, runs out at under 28 minutes in total.
In comparison with their barn storming (or more accurately, barn demolishing)
performance at this same venue back in January, tonight's performance could
be 
described
as laid back to the point of mellow - which means that it took more than three
songs before any clothing came off. However it didn't take too many more songs
before the shirt was off and then almost before you could say "Oh my
God mummy, there's a naked man on stage", the trousers were sliding south
and he still ended up bare arsed by the end of the set. By "he"
I mean guitarist "Umpire John Cronie" aka Mad Mack of course. Bassist
Richard Stanley looked far too cool and comfortable in his "You're A
Stupid Cunt" tee shirt to consider taking anything off.
Of course showmanship is all very well, but what really counts is the music. Even though I can't picture that pompous bore Leo Schofield (newspaper columnist, overseas readers) giving their Ramones style blitzkrieg-bop-meets-big-struttin'-rock approach the same snobbish, fawning commentary he applies to interminable operas written by dead foreigners, tonight's all out eardrum assault was still the duck's guts as far as I am concerned.- John McPharlin
