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Easy and The Sun
Chris Chinchilla reports from Australia
The Exploders
Easy and The Sun
The biggest surprise is that The Exploders are a two-piece, how on
earth do they recreate guitar, bass, drums, keys and vocals live? "Easy
and the Sun" starts very well, mellow Ozzie rock, well played and
crafted, but a majority of the tracks are much too long for a commercially
viable pop rock album and about half way through things start to drag
somewhat, the guitar sound, vocal delivery and pace of songs falling
into something of a rut, never changing or varying (apart from the final
song, which is a beautiful acoustic ballad), leaving the listener yearning
for a break, unless you're getting stoned, I should imagine this is
the perfect sonic accompaniment for such an evening, nothing too shocking
or surprising. That said the album is a cut above a lot of other "Australian
Rock" albums, there's not too much guitar wank, solos kept to a
bluesy, basic and heartfelt minimum, it treads over familiar ground
whilst keeping the path accessible and open to new wanderers. Perhaps
this is the overall problem with The Exploders, possibly somewhere along
the way the band decided to make their blend of rock lighter, becoming
commercially more viable but losing their edge, ending up stuck in a
rock limbo.
The Stabs, NinetyNine, Love of Diagrams, My Disco Trades Hall
It's a busy weekend for all ages shows and there is something very strange
about attending gigs where there's no alcohol, not even on stage. Tonight
all the adults keep dashing to the pub over the road between bands bewildering
and frustrating the sole bar man who seems annoyed that his (obviously)
usual quiet Saturday night is being disturbed. Meanwhile the kids do
what they always do on a Saturday night and illicitly sip cans of cheap
booze on municipal steps and get in the way, oh happy days! The Stabs
are in an odd mood tonight, jovial and even slightly cheeky. Offsetting
their intense and discordant guitar duelling with some frankly bizarre
and confusing dialogue in-between songs. It's hard to describe The Stabs
music as tuneful or particularly catchy but it's certainly 'interesting'.
NinetyNine are performing as a duo tonight, stripping down their usually
complexly arranged songs to drums, vocals and a keyboard or guitar.
Cameron Potts is his usual flamboyant and enthralling self on drums,
rather dominating the set, vocals and other instruments struggling to
be heard over the shear volume he produces. The other instruments normally
present are missed, the songs work without them, but not as well, Laura
Macfarlane even looks a little confused and overwhelmed at times, almost
like the songs are new to her, perhaps in this format they are. Melbourne
has a habit of producing many bands like Love of Diagrams, bands that
seem to forsake performance, enjoyment and acknowledging the audience
to produce the fussiest, most technical sound possible. The band are
overly fussy tonight, complaining about sound and fiddling with pedals
throughout most of the set, which (especially if this is the only audience
interaction) is incredibly annoying. Maybe the band are having a bad
gig, but everything's a bit flat, the band aren't especially tight and
the audience are getting fidgety, with only a group of over zealous
sixteen year olds seeming to get anything out of the music. Granted
that this over technical style of rock is popular in Melbourne but if
you're forsaking performance for tightness, then you have to be tight,
and this is where My Disco and their greater experience of playing live
come into play. They possess a similar angular sound, heavily influenced
by New Wave but far more planned and thought out, counter rhythms and
melodies carefully arranged and tested, but these guys actually put
on a show, they acknowledge the audience, they talk to them, they thank
them for coming along. They realise that it's an audience and a band's
interaction with them that makes a night a good night, it's a fundamental,
and lets not forget it.
Karate Party, Bitchslap
Melbourne Pony
There are a lot of young bands like Karate Party, some nice songs, with
a few interesting riffs and melodies lurking within them, but the two
piece line up of keyboards and drums lacks the drive needed to get them
across. Jo and Cat's intersong banter is also irritatingly fey, causing
a few cringes, however as the set nears it's conclusion the girls seem
to be getting it together and the songs are having more impact, perhaps
a few more live shows and rehearsals are needed…
Bitchslap and their fuzzy Grunge Punk on the other hand
are as tight as Jon Bon Jovi's trousers. Wonderfully thick guitar tones,
bass lines and drum beats coming through crisp and crystal clear. Jess
Coram, resplendent in regulation black with a severe haircut that looks
just so right for the night, delivers sullen lyrics with aggression
and panache. She barely acknowledges the audience between songs but
still possesses and emits a certain confidence and charm whilst spitting
lyrics about misery and oppression. Equally competent on guitar she
rips out simple but blistering lead lines as well as chunky rhythm,
treating her guitar like an old friend that you're not quite sure if
she still likes. Liz on bass constantly conjures the perfect accompaniment,
expertly interplaying with the guitar; the arrangements of songs seemingly
planned for maximum effectiveness, unyet making it all look so easy.
Scott at the back on drums may look a little out of place (with the
additional role tonight of being the sole male on the entire line up,
a role he may be quite used to) but he doesn't show it, providing a
similarly solid backing to the girls up front.
The material and its content is far from cheery and some might say it's
even a little melodramatic at times, but it's heartfelt, the motivations
and passions behind it are real and genuine. You may not sympathise,
comprehend or understand the band or their aggravations, but if you're
in the same room as Bitchslap, you will most certainly notice and hear
them. http://www.myspace.com/bitchslapband
A Death in the family, Cockfight shootout, Young & Restless,
Magic Dirt
Collingwood Town hall
All Ages gigs are tough; everyone claims there are not enough taking
place and not enough opportunities for under 18's to attend live music.
Unyet when an organisation goes to lengths to organise an all ages show
with a strong line up at a prestigious and large venue, attendance is
a little disappointing. Why is this? Perhaps running an all ages show
in the evening is too late for some parents to allow their children
to attend. Perhaps the lack of alcohol dissuades over eighteens attending,
which if true, is a sad fact, that a vast majority of people are only
attending gigs to get drunk, not for the music. Whatever the reasons,
the audience is small tonight, slowly building but never filling the
large, spacious and regal Collingwood Town Hall.
A Death in the Family could be described as an Emo band, that constant
chugging guitar and strained vocals present throughout most of their
set and songs, the guys put on a good show despite the early hour and
lack of audience, quipping "We're not used to playing venues this
small" but their songs need more dynamics, more variation. With
a name like Cockfight Shootout the band could only be a good old-fashioned
Ozzie rock band, all dressed in black, all Gibson Les Paul's, all Marshall
stacks. Good solid stuff, fun and dependable, but nothing original or
surprising.
Young and Restless are perhaps the one band on the bill tonight that
might attract the largest all ages crowd, and the audience is now reaching
it's peak and even starting to move it's feet. At their core Young and
Restless are yet another jagged angular guitar band, but there's something
about them, something rawer than their peers, something more challenging
and interesting. An exciting discordance between guitars, a front woman
who paces the stage like a dancing tiger, an enormous bass player who's
eyes are barely seen and some great songs that get the heart pumping
and the pulse racing. Magic Dirt are an institution, and like all long
running institutions, they're mellowing and their priorities are changing,
frequently referencing their children and even allowing them onstage
to cutely dance along to the music. If you didn't know already the songs
are big rocking slabs of guitar led by the powerful vocals of Adalita
Srsen. Despite some of the dark lyrics lurking beneath the surface it's
rousing music, and the perfect way to end the night, there will be no
encores, it's time for parents to collect their children… On and
off stage.
http://www.youngandrestless.org/
Sascha Ion, Nights at the Abattoir,
Schvendes Ding Dong Lounge
Landing the opening slot is a daunting and unenviable task for any band,
doubly so when you're an acoustic act at a rock gig, you have to work
extremely hard to even get the audience to acknowledge your existence,
let alone actually listen to you. Sacha Ion's unique voice with its
equal measures of vibrato, warble, screech and heart-felt gentility
performs a good job of gaining the interests of at least some of the
small crowd slowly building at Ding Dong tonight; she earns respect
and hopefully some fans.
For a debut gig, Nights at the Abattoir are brimming with confidence,
ability and great songs, their peculiar blend of Gothic Glam rapidly
winning over the hearts and feet of the audience. Aside from the incredibly
bubbly (and possibly drunk) keyboard player and the dapper vocalist,
the bands guitarist seems to be in a world of his own, the stage lighting
even marking him out differently. Discordantly soloing over everything
or indulgently descending into messy sonic pools of layered effects,
most of the time it doesn't really work or sit well over the good fun
and straight forward gutsy stomp of the rest of the band, but at times
he finds his own moments of genius, pulling out a solo or lick that
compliments the song beautifully.
Schvendes take to the stage ably assisted by a sound man who seems to
accompany just about every medium sized WA band, and short of a few
early technical problems work together to produce a set where you hear
every breath, every cello string bowed, every delicate bass note and
ringing guitar chord. A mesmerising set ensues, Schvendes are a band
that doesn't have to do or say a lot between songs, and in fact they're
best staying silent to savour the adoring silence of the audience as
they are absorbed in the show. Perhaps an occasional change of pace
would be welcome; emotional lifts are needed at some points in the set
as the dour melancholic material can sometimes be a little too much.
However the set ends on a high note, so just as it's time to leave the
audience and send them home, the band ensure that your memory of the
night is generally a happy one.
Ben Birchall & The Corrections
Last Ditch Brigade
It's taken me a long time to get round to writing this review, I've
kept putting it off, not due to a dislike of the album, but because
for the first time since I've arrived on the shores of Australia I've
found an artist who clicks with something inside of me and putting that
into words is a tough and daunting prospect. I've not found an artist
or album like this since Frank Turner's "Sleep is for the Week",
an album full of disillusionment with life past, present and future,
that lyrically and musically describe almost precisely how I felt at
that exact moment. Ben's mixture of troubadour-esque acoustic stories
and laid back rock led by crunchy electric guitar and organ ring true
in my ears, a sure sign of my ever maturing musical tastes, no longer
impressed by loud guitars and shouting. It may not connect with me so
much on a lyrical level, being primarily tales of lamented loves, but
that same feeling of mistakes, possible regrets, lessons learned and
a new optimistic outlook on life is as equally present as Frank Turner's
offering, perhaps I identify with that feeling and process in life,
no matter if the situations or motivations differ. But enough of comparisons,
what of "Last Ditch Brigade"? It's an album full of finely
crafted arrangements and instrumentation demonstrating a song writing
ability far beyond Ben's years, the songs would be equally at home on
a fashionable Indie Kids' CD shelf as well as their parents', successfully
creating an album that manages to transcend genres, fashions and age
groups, simply producing a damn fine album, no pretension, no filler,
full to the seams with brilliant songs.
http://www.myspace.com/benbirchallandthecorrections
Carus and the true believers
Three Boxes
A folk hero belonging truly to the old school, Carus has chalked up
an average of 200 shows annually over the past few years and still found
the time to release several albums, "Three Boxes" being his
third. It's mellow and laid back but brimming with passion, dedication
and earnest emotion, the lyrics are tales of his experiences and life
on the road, containing equal elements of regret and happiness with
his lifestyle, the excitement and the loneliness. A beautiful album
that can be listened to time and time again, it doesn't drag, it doesn't
need to be turned off halfway through, it sits in the background and
makes your workplace peaceful and it sits in the foreground and inspires,
a perfect album.
Pikelet, Batrider
Manchester Lane
Let's talk about loop pedals. These little boxes of tricks are popping
up everywhere at the moment, giving musicians the capability of layering
tracks of instrument loops to produce a texture of complex harmonies,
great in theory, but becoming a little tired. Pikelet is the Mistress
of such gadgets, not only layering sounds but manipulating them on the
fly, speeding them up, slowing them down, for example, using her voice
to create a cello like sound. The problem is that due to the fundamental
definition of a loop, i.e. something that repeats, songs end up all
being rather similar, with no real structure, just building pieces that
grow dynamically and then stop, with very few verses, choruses, key
changes etc. Despite this Pikelet does a very good job of engaging the
audience at Manchester Lane, her hypnotic compositions and lilting voice
lulling everyone into her own little world and then bringing them screeching
back into the real world with her rather dry and even mildly patronising
inter song banter.
The sign outside the venue says that the show is album tour launch party,
Batrider say its there last gig before they move to the UK in a month,
is that the same thing? What is Australian bands obsession with moving
to the UK to fulfil their musical dreams? It's a big, scary and expensive
place where outsiders are generally regarded as an annoyance, bands
should go somewhere with a friendly music scene like Mainland Europe.
Anyway, enough of that tangent.
Batrider are working from the Nirvana definition of an acoustic gig,
with drums, bass and an electric guitar on stage, maybe it's more of
a "Stripped down" show, with only overdrive pedals switched
off for good measure. Vocalist Sarah is on fine form, her gravel voice
sounds like its summoning every ounce of pain she's ever experienced,
screeching and howling over the sole acoustic guitar on stage that she
bashes with glee. It's a damn fine opportunity to hear what great songwriters
the band really are without all that "noise" going on, in
fact the definition of a good song is one that you can do anything with
and perform any way and it still sounds fantastic. One even starts to
wonder if the band should do this all the time, do they really need
overdrive? It's an emotional set, Batrider throw in a bunch of songs
that they haven't played for a long time and seemingly enjoy doing so.
Tonight's set is the sound of a band at the peak of their creativity,
and in a twisted kind of a way we all hope that they have no success
overseas and have to come back, no one at Manchester Lane wants them
to leave the stage let alone the country.
The Pictures
The Fantastic Sound of the Pictures
A compilation of rarities from a band I've never heard of, it seems
one half of their permanent line up (Davey Lane) is something of an
Australian institution, an institution that never made it past the Pacific
Ocean, so I'm off the hook. The problem with rarities albums is that
they will often only appeal to hardcore fans, generally being full of
slightly dodgy tracks, cover versions and poor recordings, "The
Fantastic sound of the Pictures" contains examples of all of those
(A Particular highlight is a cover of "Maps" by Yeah yeah
yeahs that sounds like Primal Scream have replaced the band). It's a
schizophrenic collection of songs, despite only spanning 5 years it
sounds like a different band on each track, but I guess the rarities
and b-sides of an artists are traditionally where they experiment and
try something a little different. The sleeve notes accompanying the
album are a fantastic insight into the songs and the band (especially
for someone who knows nothing about them), demonstrating a warm and
down to earth attitude with comments like "… We think it sucks
too" and tales of financial woes, beer and recording session snacks.
As the band would be more than likely to admit the album is not a fantastic
collection of songs, more a mix of rough and smooth, a disc of memories
and stories, but if you're a fan an invaluable and worthy addition to
your collection.
Chris Chinchilla
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