The Pubert-Brown Fridge Occurrence
Friday, July 5 2002
Excelsior Hotel, Surry Hills
Fifteen years ago I probably wouldn't have gone to this gig. I'd had a shit day at work and didn't get home until well after nine, completely stuffed I can tell you, so it took a lot of will power and determination to turn straight around and jump into the car after only a hastily toasted cheese sandwich and a hard boiled egg (hey, that was all that was in my fridge which, I might add, is not brown yet, even if the layer of dust and mold on top of it does seem to be heading that way). Fifteen years ago I just would have said, "Stuff it, I'll catch 'em next time", but these days you've gotta catch 'em when (and where) you can, because there may not be a next time.
Arriving in the general locale of the Exe, I only had to circle the block twice before finding a park and then joined a small throng at the door. Some woman at the front of the line was taking forever to come up with the modest entrance fee, so we all hung like lemons waiting for her to get her act together. That is all except one of us, who elbowed past me angrily, then past those in front of me, only to be, or to pretended to be, staggered that we were all in line to pay and that he was expected to pay too. Adios, arsehole.
Finally the woman causing all the delay sorted her finances out and the line got moving again. Fortunately for me, Jim Dickson was standing near the door and just as I was about to hand over my hard earned cash, he leaned over to the door bitch and told her that I was on the guest list, which was welcome news to me. Apparently the Barman had organised it with Steve Lucas and I'd simply picked the wrong day to skip checking my email (oh, and she wasn't a bitch at all, in fact she seemed quite amenable).
One thing I'd been worried about was missing the start of the Occurrence's set (since I'd missed their entire set last time, due to some idiot stuffing up on the date of that gig... oh, wait a minute, that was me), but since Jim was in the front bar and I could hear a support band still grinding it out in the back room, obviously that danger had been averted. I casually asked Jim when they were going to go on and he replied that they were due on stage at 10:30. After glancing at my watch, I pointed out to him that it was now 10:27, at which point he took off...
After elbowing my way to the bar and copping a Coopers, I eased toward the back room and who should I bump into immediately but the Barman himself, positively overflowing with good humour after having rounded out a day spent at a boring trade conference with a lengthy and lively round table discussion at the subsequent post-conference drinks session (he may work for a multi-national pharmaceutical company by day, but alcohol remains his recreational chemical of choice come sundown). The support band continued to churn it out for a good few minutes more, but eventually cleared off and the Occurrence were able to get themselves set up on stage, although by now it was now after eleven.
The band consists of X co-founder Steve Lucas, early X guitarist Geoff Holmes, bassist extraordinaire Jim Dickson (now being billed as "ex-Radio Birdman" after filling in for Warwick Gilbert on the recent reunion tour - apparently his half decade plus stints in each of the New Christs, the Deniz Tek Group and most of the various line ups of Louis Tillett's backing band don't have the same audience recognition factor and so aren't as "marquee friendly") and drummer John Butler, about whom I know nothing except that he isn't the John Butler from the John Butler Trio.
Early publicity for the band described its sound as "60s acid rock blues" and that turned out to be right on the mark (just when I thought the 80s were going to become the new 60s, it looks like the old 60s might be staging yet another comeback). This was only their second gig, although it didn't sound like it from the way they played. There was however a certain nervousness about the band's demeanour. Apparently the first show drew a heavy X contingent who expected all the old songs and weren't backward about sharing those expectations with the band.
Having read and believed the advance promo, all I was expecting was some good garage/psych and that was what I got, so there was no disappointment being experienced on my part. Steve Lucas spent most of the set sitting at a keyboard, only standing up to strap on a guitar for the last few songs (which turned out to be several fewer than the band had intended, but I'll get to that a little later). The set started slow and deliberate, but with a real, rough-edged garage feel. It's no crime to mix a bit of power pop in with your garage sounds, as the Persian Rugs (for instance) are doing quite successfully at the moment, but for what you gain from the three "C"s (clean, concise, catchy) there is a price to be paid from further up the alphabet (like raw, raunchy...).
However, as with many other garage/psych "revivalists" (although the setlist was almost entirely originals), you can always lay on them the criticism that they are far too accomplished musicians. Most of the two and three chord classics of the 60s were recorded by bands who only knew those two or three chords and the sound you heard was not the result of skilled musicians making well considered artistic decisions from amongst a wealth of alternative choices; what you heard was the result of semi-amateurs desperate to get a firm grasp on a musical vision shimmering just beyond their reach and throwing everything they had into the effort.
Of course, anyone who's played in X would certainly know a thing or two about throwing in everything they've got and the P.B.F. Occurrence managed to add a good dash of that desperate edge you always associate with the true garage originals. There was also a rising tide of tension and ferocity as the set progressed, the band picking up pace and momentum like an over laden truck careering down from the hills as its brakes burn out. Anyone stopped at a traffic light in its path would have been toast but, fortunately for the neighbours, they had the Exe's bar staff to look after their interests.
Strangely for a band that really had that sparse midwestern American garage sound firmly by the throat and testicles, both the covers they played were British. Like the Scruffs (er, sorry, the Wake Ups) last week, a cover of "Substitute" was chucked into the set as a tribute to the death of John Entwistle, although in this case it was dedicated, rather pointedly, not to him but to "his replacement". This was followed by one of the best covers of the Small Faces' "Tin Soldier" that I've heard in many a year. Then Steve Lucas was up on his feet and it didn't look like the audience was gonna be shown much mercy, when suddenly it was all over.
A few months ago there was a lot of talk about the Exe's management having dropped a bundle on improved soundproofing, but if tonight was anything to go by then they must have done their dough with a dodgy builder. There were three barmaids on duty, plus the woman who handles the band side of things (at least I think she handles the band business - she's always at the bar and she seems to know all the bands, so either she occupies some kind of management role or else she's just got a serious drinking problem), and all four of them took it in turns to elbow their way to the foot of the stage and signal to the band that it was over, finito, kaput, no more, nada, zip, zilch, you gotta stop now, time to fold yer tents guys, "now" means "now", no you can't just do one more...
Well, you get the picture. Steve Lucas, on the other hand, pretended that he didn't and led the band straight into another song, at which point the gesturing and the scolding got really frantic. Eventually the band gave in, cut the song a little short and shut down for the night. However those within earshot of Mr Lucas were left in doubt that he was ropable, as he had quite a bit to say about support bands that go way over time and none of it was any too complimentary (though he was preaching to the choir as far as I was concerned - this seemed to happen to the New Christs all too often toward the end of their last incarnation and as we all now know, eventually there was no next time for them).
Fortunately for us it looks like there will be a next time for the Pubert Brown-Fridge Occurrence, as they took time out from packing up to pass out some handbills for their next gig. Somewhat alarmingly, these handbills also included a map. This was not there just to fill up a bit of blank space; it was there because they expected most punters to be unfamiliar with the venue (the Clubhouse in Jubilee Park at Glebe). Fuck me, I'd never even heard of it. Not content to sit and simply wait to be offered further bookings from established venues, the band has been thinking "outside the square" when it comes to finding a setting for their next gig.
Steve commented that at their peak X were banned from 32 pubs and clubs in the Sydney area, yet even so were able to play two or three nights a week because there were a few venues left that would still have them, plus a band could always take things into its own hands and promote its own shows by booking a public hall. These days there wouldn't be anything like 32 venues for live music left in Sydney and long before the current crisis in public liability insurance, the cost of premiums was already way beyond the reach of the average local band. So if you're not under the wing of a big record company then you have to do it for yourself, but you do it really tough and you have to be a bit adventurous. Just like a lot of those original '60s garage bands really...- John McPharlin
