Live Reviews

Hangin' with GenerFriday night was easily the best gig I've ever seen. After about 10 years of waiting, getting 2 nights of Ween back to back was worth every bit of waiting. I might leave Thursday night for someone like Vincent to cover if he feels like doing so. It was a great gig, but overall a little flat or to me at least it just didn't seem like something clicked. Friday night all the planets aligned and the boognish smiled upon the Forum.

Love her. Not sure about the dress.

I'm not a religious man, but I swear PJ Harvey is a goddess. Last night she played Hamer Hall, touring her recent album White Chalk. It was sublime; it was beautiful; it was awe-inspiring. I quite enjoyed it.

Each time I see PJ perform, live or even just on TV, I'm struck by the incongruity: she doesn't sound how she looks. She's a petite woman, with a voice like a howitzer. She's a wearer of genteel-looking frocks and heels, with a demon hand on guitar. Her songs are a galvanising jumble of fragility and damage, but her persona, when she sings, is aggressive and assured. On the night, even her jokey between-song patter with the audience (I've never seen her so talkative) was strangely at odds with her mostly pitch-black songs.

This isn't criticism, mind you; I like the unexpectedness of it all. I dig the disorienting vision of PJ wearing an oldfashioned, puffy-sleeved dress, swinging a guitar and gyrating to a beat. (It's the musical equivalent of the jumbled timelines in a Jeunet and Caro film.) But I do have this odd sense of displacement whenever I see her. Conflicting signifiers. Kinda like finding out Winona Ryder is the world's greatest badass, or Clint Eastwood a repressed interior designer.

Gareth Liddiard Pic by Daniel Campbell

(The Corner, 27 October 2007)

Five years ago, walking to work down Koornang Rd – that was the first time I heard the Drones. Triple R sicced Hell and Haydevils onto my unsuspecting ears, and I was never the same. It musta been a strange sight for passing motorists: 7am in the morning and some dude standing motionless on the footpath, because I had to stop – I couldn’t walk and listen. Some things need undivided attention. Half a decade later, and I caught the Drones for the first time in yonks at the Corner. And fuck me, their sweaty, hardscrabble washing machine of rock, country, and blues still stops me like a frying pan to the face.

But first things first... I turned up earlyish and caught the Witch Hats’ last two numbers. Their wall of guitar punk – I defy anyone not to stomp their feet to Before I Weigh – made me regret not getting my shit together and arriving earlier. But hey, spilt milk and all that. Next up were Snowman. Only knowing them via repeat listening to Smoke and Mirrors, I was expecting some unholy – but interesting – Frankenstein of surf guitar, mariachi brass, spaghetti western, and punk. Instead the WA four-piece were heavy as fuck – and so LOUD and bassy that my internal organs jitterbugged and my leg hairs vibrated. What co-singer and guitarist Andy Citawarman lacks in altitude he makes up for in energy and vocal range, switching effortlessly from hoarse shout to a pure upper register. As cool as Snowman were – and judging by the way the room filled when they came on, plenty were there to see them – the night was all about the Drones, baby, and their set showed why.

Kingtide

25-03-07

To say that sitting in Brunswick on a Sunday night, where the weather was cold but the music was hot, is somewhat of a cliché in Melbourne. But a cliché is often a cliché because it is something based on reality that has happened so many times that it is instantly recognisable.

So for me to say that on this particular Sunday night that I was sitting sipping a beer, while it was bloody cold outside and a band preformed in front of me who were, not to be exaggerating, hot, is a welcome cliché. Kingtide, hailing from Sydney have been regulars on the reggae/roots circuit for a long time, and have completed a number of well placed support gigs and solo shows throughout Australia.

The Basics

I like the Basics. They’ve picked a style of rock that hasn’t been totally regurgitated and have given it a new life that’s joyful and fun. Yes, that’s probably the cheesiest endorsement you’ve probably ever heard but what can I say? I saw the boys play about two years ago and while they didn’t blow me away, their optimism and pure love for their music gave them good cred to me.

Fast forward to February 8, 2007, and The Basics are headlining their own EP release at the East Brunswick Club for their single Looking Over My Shoulder, supported by Lachlan Bryan, Little Red, and comedy troupe the Shambles.

Emma was inconsolable at the loss of her last macaroon.

(East Brunswick Club 27/01/07)

Post Australia Day celebrations can be harrowing, if not ludicrous, as you try and forget the amount of alcohol you may have consumed the previous day. Even if you don’t find yourself specifically patriotic, you do tend to overindulge.

So come January 27th, your brain sometimes isn’t ready to handle a gig of any capacity – this was my mind-set before heading to Melbourne’s East Brunswick Club to witness what would probably be the most surprising gig I’ve so far encountered. Having only heard snippets of Emma Heeney’s past exploits with Brisbane band Gorgeous, plus one or two solo performances, I was blown away at the gentle and delicate nature of her songs, that at times were soft and inviting, and at others hard-hitting.

GSC fits better on the board, no?Great Southern Cross played The Evelyn last Friday night. Respect. BNU was lucky enough to catch up with Matty from the band to chat about the gig, transport, cats, and the name change.

BNU: Just as GSE was becoming a household name, especially with teenage girls and parents, you change it. Why?

Kinko: Well, you know, we often had trouble fitting the band name onto those really little blackboards at pubs. Those things are tiny, man! Bands have to pick short names, like Mammal and Seven, but we don't dig that. Cross is shorter than Electrics, you know? Not by much, but it is. Plus, we figured that Cross describes our music better than Electrics. We have parts of our set that aren't electrics at all. Ummm, like me talking for example. I mean, sometimes I do talk into the microphone, so those bits need electicity. But not alot else does. Religion has played a big part in our recovery too, so it just seemed organic and cool. You know. Playing with two of Melbournes best christian rock bands seemed like a good time to do it too.

BNU: How was the new name received?

Kinko: Well, you know. I'm glad we changed it before playing with those guys obviously. Plus, it did fit on the blackboard better than ever!

I know not a lot of the good old BNU'ers that lurk around here are fans of the American rock band Live, but this weekend was one worth at least a small article in cyberspace.

I'd bought tickets just one of the three shows they were doing at the Palais over the weekend of Friday 13th of October. I was a bit more excited about this tour as opposed to the last few because they were including older material in their setlist. I'll be the first to tell you that their last two albums sucked major balls.
I first saw them in 1997 when I was only 12 and they blew my mind. That was the Secret Samadhi tour, hot off the heels of their success with Throwing Copper, they were the biggest band in the world pretty much. Things took a bit of a slide after that, the next album was still very good but then there has been a huge decrease in their material.
Most people write them off as a christian rock band, or a poor man's U2. But I'd challenge any person with that opinion to see them live at least once to see how you feel then.

Since I am pretty much a complete geek and am part of their message board we had a pre meet on Friday at the Prince of Wales where we drank, drank and drank. There were maybe 12 or so of us from all over Australia. I'm not crazy enough to go interstate to see them.
We made the walk over to the Palais about 8pm making sure that we timed our arrival as Shannon Noll was leaving the stage.
What surprised me though was that we could hear his final song through the doors, and he was singing "what about me?" ... I couldn't believe it! He saved the best till last! Actually it was most likely the only song he did all night, but anyways.

The old bear trap on the stage routine.

By Matt Soccio

Before attending the recent Ryan Adams show in Melbourne, I had severe reservations as to whether or not it was really worth the effort of losing a Wednesday night to see the Indie equivalent of John Mellencamp.

Apart from thinking he was a complete twat, I had no other opinion of his music and therefore had no incentive to go, apart from the fact I was being dragged there by a crazed Ryan Adams fan. Gritting everything my body would allow me to grit, I drove out to St Kilda (yep I didn't even get a chance to drink my way through the gig) to the 'hanging on by a thread' venue The Palace.

From the size of the line out the front of the venue there's no shortage of people willing to don their Indie apparel for the Alt-country/new wave rocker gracing Australia's stages, touring on the back of his new album Cold Roses. After hearing rumours about a tantrum Adams threw at Sydney 's Splendour in the Grass festival, I began to think that this gig wouldn't be so bad.

As it turns out, the best thing I could have done to prepare myself for this gig, was to not expect anything at all. Adams, who I thought would be broody and completely out of his head, was quite funny and talkative, in fact having regular three minute conversation intervals between his songs. He mentioned his little spaz at Splendour (going on to say the critics have dubbed him “volatile and unpredictable”) and spoke freely about his Australian tour and his quite obvious drug addiction. But his songs in the first two hours were concise and entertaining; a slower version of New York, New York was a highlight, and the more country styled Oh Carolina was requested ferociously by the crowd.