FROG
HOLLOWTRAPPED IN AMBER
NOW OPEN FOR BREAKFAST
Pot Belly, Canberra
August 2, 2002
WORDS: Wilfred Pilkington
PICTURES: Janet Auld
A cold dark night in Canberra and it's still early, which means not copping out and dragging the usual "missed the first band but heard they were good" bullshit out, like so many wankers have before. (If you can't make a gig on time, find another hobby.) (Fuck, I think he means you or me, John - ED.)
New, fresh, loud music is what it's about, and when "Now Open for Breakfast" hit the stage, that's what we got. Good powerful poppy rock belted through a muddyish mix to warm punters' bones, with some spirited playing and a healthy set of originals.
By the time Froghollow started setting up, the place was packed. If the first band looked young, these guys should have been asked for I.D! All that is, except their enigmatic guitarist/frontman Warren Auld, resplendent in Royal Purple, sporting the same pendants and round-the-neck amulets as he did years ago in the Mutated Noddys - speaking of which, is that the same fucking electric jug he's setting up??????!! Shit, I hope they do some Elevators, I thought, as the crowd started buzzing excitedly.
Like myself, this was the first time most had seen the 'Hollow, and since they dominated the MP3 Psyche charts (and regular MP3 charts for chrissakes!) for most of June and July, expectations were mounting. These guys' demos promised much...
As they roared into "Were You Behind Me", all eyes were transfixed to the front. No one but No One could take their eyes off the stage for the entire set; Blokes trying to eat wedges without looking and missing their mouths, everyone transfixed. This aural belting was immediately followed with the slower, mesmeric "What Will I do?" featuring the jug, and Warren's trademark doo-doo-doot's. "What You Do" saw them reaching the stratosphere, with the vocal intensity shocking the punters, but it was the subsequent track "I Can't Reach You Anymore" that flattened everyone present, boiling everyone's drinks and setting fire to furniture.
As with any nuclear detonation, air is sucked from a room. In this case, it returned in the form of the esoteric "Senses", again featuring the jug, and the lyrics of which including such gems as "Chocolate-chip cookies made with THC" and "I knew the cactus near me would start talking soon", not to mention growing an extra arm out of one's chest. (Keep up the field research boys, it's working).
"Images Of Broken Dreams" strikes the ears as the most uplifting and boppy/poppy tune the lads churn out, yet listening closely, the lyrics talk of such things as "the grim effects of greed and drought", which is so starkly disturbing, we're reminded of songs about deserts and ice, that we
at I-i94 love so fondly."Crash At My Place" didn't fit this category, although rocked immensely, but "That Night" really hit home with all present, describing an awful encounter with a UFO.(!).
"Johnny
Skag" saw keyboardist Harvey vocalising just as passionately, with venom
that splashed all present, so when Warren screamed the lyrics to the finisher
"No Life", both angry young men were slamming home their message of
"You're a no-life, you're a low-life, you're a no-life, you're a low-life"Bang Bang bang bang, the organ shrieking as a landing spacecraft........oh my brain.
The evening had no cover charge, but had it have cost a grand and the delighted punters (self included) would've recognised a true bargain. Being acoustically assaulted in this manner is all that anyone has asked of various bands over the years, but these guys are something special indeed. A potent mixture of aggressive youth and mystic vision which intrigues and bulldozes.
