ON THE ROCKS - Six Ft Hick (Spooky Records)
For a band that's built a reputation on spectacular live shows, Six Ft Hick are now also delivering the goods in the studio. It's a given that when you slip this disc into the player you don't get the Corbett brothers jumping all over the furniture and beating themselves to within an inch of the casualty ward, but the energy they put into their live shows is channeled into the recording.
You might regard "On The Rocks" as their second release (it's the fourth but you can't find the early efforts, "Chicken" or "Lap of Luxury", anyway and their recent work is streets ahead of both) and a companion piece to 2006's "Canethrash." Both have the consistently punchy sound (thanks to uncluttered production by label head Loki Lockwood.)
In this case, the testosterone levels (an essential part of the Hick's music) are tempered by the book-ends of "Sirens Part One" and "Sirens Part Two." The first is a spaghetti western outtake, leavened by female vocals, and the second becomes an extended, psychedelic guitar rumble that's probably "On The Rocks"' most adventurous moment.
Adalita from Magic Dirt has lent her voice to the menacing "Euthanize My Love", so you could make a case that there's a bit of progression around the edges, but "On The Rocks" is for the most part, just what the fans would have wanted i.e. in your face, broken-hearted, brass knuckle rock and roll.
It works nowhere better than on "White Light, Wet Heat", "Live Girls" and "On The Rocks", the trio of tunes in the early half of the album that leave the biggest impression. All three have a big muscular sound with Dan Baebler's fluid but forceful guitar a stand-out.
"Live Girls" finds Tony Giacca laying down a thick underlay of bass. He's also all over the wasted-sounding bosa nova-cum-rock rock of "Ruin", a tired early morning song that inevitably blurs the line between the Hick and Ben Corbett's other band, Gentle Ben and His Sensitive Side. Quite a contrast when it runs up against the pure octane crunch of "The Floor Is The Limit."
Less a radical advance somewhere else than an exercise in marking time, "On The Rocks" still has enough hard rocking edges to keep the fans happy and to win a few new ones. - The Barman
CANE
TRASH/TRAIN CRASH - Six Ft Hick (Spooky Records)
Six Ft Hick wouldn’t be the first band whose recorded output’s
critical appreciation collapses under the impossible weight of a hefty live
reputation. And let's face it - until record companies start packaging holograms
of frontmen to do gymnastics on top of the CD player (bundled with a case
of stale beer to spill on your carpet), there’s no way to replicate
the live experience at home, let alone in your car on the way to work. Not
that I really want to be tossed out of my car at the lights by an enormous
Pacific Islander on steroids growling "drink 'em up" just because
the dashboard clock says it's 11.45.
As tall and order as it is for Six Ft Hick to live up to their hard-earned,
face-to-face reputation on disc, they may have pulled it off on this, their
third long playing release. Where anything vaguely resembling a message might
be lost amid all those whirring arms, backbends and smashed glasses when
the band hits the stage and the chest hairs start being set alight, “Canetrash” resonates
with clever lyrics and a depth of songwriting. The Hick's music might still
celebrate people with personality disorders and situations that reek of desperation,
and the music's frantic, but the words are now a helluva lot easier to understand.
The best Lou Reed songs are when he gets inside someone else's head and tells
a story from their own sordid perspective. That's why "Flight of the
Shitbird" is a firm favourite from this disc, laying out the daily swoop
of a junkie on the 'done as he does the rounds of the Fortitude Valley Mall.
The music neither swoops or swirls but divebombs, and it's tempting to tag
it as fairly representative of the whole disc.
But there's the rub: If you’re able to accurately categorise Six Ft
Hick’s music, you’re doing well (and frankly should spend more
time doing Mensa puzzles than slumming it online with us). Their roots may
be in rockabilly, but they’ve absorbed enough swamp/thrash/metal/hardcore
influences to qualify for some sort of dodgy government grant for services
to cultural diversity.
There's a scurvy-ridden,
skanky undertow to the guitars that sucks the songs along like detritus
bubbling down a dirty inner-city gutter after a downpour, with the rhythm
section locking in and clattering away in tandem. Geoff and Ben Corbett
alternate on vocals, sometimes sounding like Jello Biafra after the helium
bottle has run dry. Nicely edgy, always in your face. I'm still none the
wiser as to what their "Five Rules" are but if they ever
catch up with Peewee ("Payday for Peewee), he is in one shitload of
trouble.
Loki Lockwood’s production is first class and part of the deal is
you get a bonus disc of live Hickage, recorded in 2006 at the Tote Hotel
in Melbourne. While the hologram would have been handy, there's no guarantee
it wouldn't have jumped off the top of the stereo and kicked half of the
Barmaid's handmade pottery off the surrounding shelves and halfway to Brisbane,
such is the murderous intent in these songs.
Not for the faint-hearted but then again they breed 'em out of whack in cane country. - The Barman
The Hicks have come up with
a new one at last. This is good news indeed.
An odd bunch these boys, very different in their musical attitude and sweaty
country boy persona to the (fairly arty) presentation of their CDs. This
comes as a double- one studio, one live. Not sure if this is some sort
of limited edition, the lack of info about the live disc makes me think
it may be.
The studio disc, “Cane Trash” kicks off hard, with “The
Five Tips” surf guitar intro and rattling snare drums. Although they
don’t elaborate, I hazard a guess the Hick’s tips for living
include: get as drunk as possible as often as possible, don’t take
any shit, hit the other guy first and make sure you get the cash upfront.
"Number Five" is probably something about looking after your woman…let’s
not get into that here.
It’s a fairly sparse sound, with the constantly swapping twin vocals
taking up a lot of the space that a second guitar might use. Most of the
tunes are fast and fairly short, choppy and aggressive, driven by abrupt
riffs and the aforementioned vocals, which swoop holler and roar.
They revel in gutter life and from the sound of “Flight Of the Shitbird” & “40
Cents” there’s still plenty of it drifting round Fortitude Valley.
The pace doesn’t really let up until the sweetly menacing “Payday
For Peewee”. They close with the pure class of “Dogshit
Blues” and the warning tale of “Post Powder Blues”.
“Train Crash”, the live slab, was apparently recorded at the
Tote late last year, and includes tracks from “Cane Trash” like “Beat
Myself” and “Ashtray”, as well as tunes from “Lap of
Luxury” and a few earlier things. The mighty “I Was Just Cleaning
It, And It Went Off’ is here, in fine form. Not as much between song
banter as I remember from the last time I saw them.
They tour pretty relentlessly;
if you live in Australia chances are you’ve already seen them. If you
don’t, this will have to do until the inevitable overseas tour. - TJ
Honeysuckle
