NIK
AND JIM SAY THANK YOU AND GOODNIGHTNIK
AND JIM SAY THANK YOU AND GOODNIGHT
CELIBATE RIFLES, THE LEAP
@ North Bondi RSL
Thursday March 22, 2001
The tour schedule, as originally published, had the Rifles heading north to Queensland after the Annandale and Fishos gigs and then getting off the road for a while, so I was surprised when I spotted this one-off gig being advertised after those Queensland dates.
Unfortunately it was a lot easier to find the advert than it was to find the gig itself. What the fuck is it with Sydney street names? You're driving down a main road and without warning or indication (street signs, lack thereof: that's another thing I want to lodge a complaint about) it changes its name to something else, while its old name continues down what looks like a side street. Whose idea is that? Or it forms a clear "T" junction with another road, but then springs back into existence again, as what should be a completely separate street, 50 metres down that other road. These urban planners, what are they smokin' and can I have some too please?
And why do Sydneysiders harbour a pathological fear of having their street number marked up on their property in any way, shape or form, so that even if by some miracle you end up on the right road, you still don't know where you are or which building you should be looking for? And then when you finally do see a street number, it turns out you've gone too far, but of course it's a fucking one way street, so you can't just turn around and go back the way you came...
Not
content with this level of concealment, the North Bondi RSL is also nested well
down below the level of road, which rises up a small sea cliff as it goes past,
completely invisible from the roadway, making it even harder to find than usual,
even by Sydney standards. Only the knowledge that all three Queensland shows
had received enormous accolades, indicating that the band may have been burning
even brighter than at their last Sydney shows, kept me going in search of that
one extra gig, instead of just heading back home and watching TV (not that there's
much to look forward to there on a Thursday night).
Needless to say (but I'll go ahead and say it anyway, because I'm just that sort of a bloke), by the time I got there the opening band had been and gone and the next band was tuning up. While I wasn't actually offended by them (although some hardened fans near me seemed to be), I can't say that I was particularly taken by their light guitar based style, which was as much shoegaze as pop. They probably would have gone down a storm with those who hang out on the Big Takeover email list, but the songs were too lightweight for me and I couldn't comprehend why they had been booked for this show. Only with the last song, a longish instrumental, did they come close to letting it off the leash for a scamper around the block and even then it sounded like they'd all spent too much time locked in a small room with Cream's "Tales of Brave Ulysses" and the soundtrack to "Edge of Darkness".
With
the North Bondi RSL occupying fairly big premises, it seems that many punters
had chosen to lurk elsewhere in the building until it was time for the main
event. As The Leap cleared their equipment off the stage and the Rifles began
to set theirs up, the crowd swelled noticeably. Fortunately we didn't have too
long to wait before the Rifles swung into action, kicking off once again with
"Jesus On TV".
For the first few songs the audience took it all very calmly, with only a couple
of alcohol assisted idiots trying to gyrate their way to nirvana. However as
the band wound the crowd up with surefire dance/pogo favourites like "Johnny",
"Electravision Mantra", "Oceanshore" and "Groovin'
In The Land Of Love", more feet were a tappin' and the dancin' grew a lot
more frenetic and furious. Meanwhile your intrepid reporter was desperately
trying to juggle his camera and beer (thanks Nigel!) while at the same time
avoiding being sucked into the vortex developing in front of the stage.
At a point somewhere towards halfway through the proceedings, Damien Lovelock
calmly told us that though he'd been going to wait until the end of the show,
he could no longer hold it in and so he was announcing that both Nik and Jim
had decided to leave the band to pursue other interests and that this would
be their last show and maybe the last show for the rest of the band as well...
Not surprisingly, both band and audience kicked it up another notch after this and it all starts to blur, so I'm extremely grateful to Mick Poole, guitarist extraordinaire with 300 St Claire and occasional Rifles roadie, for inviting me out of the mosh and offering me a safer place at the side of the stage amongst Kent's spare guitars. This was the perfect spot from which not only to collect a last few happy snaps of the band as I used up the rest of the roll, but also to observe the ardent enthusiasm of the audience as the Rifles took them on an emotional roller coaster which had a lot more rises than dips, culminating in a near orgasmic "O Salvation", hugs all round and exit stage right.
When
the band was finally dragged back out for an encore, Damien made it clear that
as this might be the band's last night ever, the only requests to be played
would be band requests (though the first one apparently coincided fortuitously
with one couple's 10th anniversary dedication request), so we got two covers
much beloved by the band over the years: "Highway To Hell" and "Hot
Stuff". More cheers, hugs, goodbyes and exit stage right again. Enticed
back for one last song, they slammed through "Search & Destroy",
Damien gave a non committal "maybe we'll see you later" and they all
exited stage right one last time.
If that was indeed the last time, then they sure went out with a bang not a whimper. However as I write this now, a week later, there are already rumours that the Rifles have definite plans to continue, possibly even with the involvement of a couple of musicians whose names have appeared on a few Rifles album covers already. If so, that'll be great; if not, then so long and thanks for all the fish, Jacques.
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