TWO-TIMING TOUCH AND BROKEN BONES
SPOZ: 1976 to 2006 - "you had some good times, you had some great times, you had some crazy times, and often you were the sneaky bastard who defied the laws of space AND time.. but in the end, you've had your fun.. and now it's really time to go.. for surely, there is a time for everyone.. and if there is one time to claim you.. one weekend to claim you.. one weekend that would prove too much for you over all others.. then surely THIS would be that time.. this would be that one to defeat you.. for surely you are mortal.. surely you are just another one of us primates.. surely you are made of the same simple atoms and subatomic particles as the rest of us simple folk.. and surely this has gotta be that one self named bullet that not even you could do freaky neo shit too and dodge with super fast death defying ninja speed.. oh surely you couldn't.. oh surely you didn't.. oh wait.. you did? fuck.. FUCKING HELL!!?? THAT RAT BASTARD!! AGAAAIN!?? HOW THE FUCK DID HE GET AWAY WITH THIS ONE!!?? OOOOOH MAAAAN I'M GONNA GET HIM!! OOOOOOOOH MAAAAAAAN I'M GONNA MAKE HIM PAAAAAY!! AAUUUUAUAUAUAUAGGGGGGHH!"
but not if you can't catch me.. BWAAAHAHAHAHA!!
yes indeed children of the night - witness the weekend that should've killed SPOZ, but didn't :)THURSDAY NIGHT
my weekend begins, curiously enough, here at 9PM photographing this pile of trash off RUNDLE ST..
I didn't know exactly why I was taking this photo at the time.. and yet in hindsight it has proven to be strangely prophetic.. as not only would my weekend BEGIN in a pile of trash.. but, would invariably END in a similarily trashy fate.. hmmmm ;)
but of course, obviously I've got better reasons to be out tonight, as I'm here in the east of Adelaide to catch MY SISTER THE COP and REALIST FEW play an ear bleeding set of hardcore (and quite possibly post hardcore) sounds in the colourfully trashy surrounds of the CROWN N ANCHOR..MY SISTER THE COP
and so, here we have the 1st shiny band of the night, MY SISTER THE COP..
as they deliver song after song of unholy gnashing..
ferocious electro stabbing, gutteral shredding..
and demented ear splitting screaming..
I believe all in all.. in the space of one tiny 30 minute set, they managed to play at least 15-20 songs.. which, to the untrained ear would pretty much sound like the same insane retarded head exploding nonsense.. but, to a well trained audial idiot such as myself.. these guys would once again prove to be grand mischevious architects in the kinda rarefied fucked up insanity that'd send ATARI TEENAGE RIOT and APHEX TWIN screaming for cover.. oooyeaah ;)
anyhoo.. after the grinning madness that is SISTER THE COP.. I duck out from the stage to the pool tables on the other side of the venue, casually pick up a RIP IT UP music street press and start reading near the side exit (hoping perhaps soon the ringing in my ears would stop before my head exploded)
and as I wuz doing so, NAZZ goes flying past me on his way out.. but before he does, he makes passing mention that he just so happens to be playing a set tonight over at the EXETER and they'll be starting up in the next 5-10 minutes..
and so, just for the random fuck of it, here I am at the EXETER to see KING DADDY..KING DADDY
and yup, this would be NAZZ - writer for the ADELAIDE ADVERTISER, resident DJ and venue booker for the CROWN N ANCHOR, and apparently also lead singer for this monkeyarse pubrock act..
and to describe 'em.. imagine if you will, the sounds of jangling dustbowl whisky stained blues..
something very much along the lines of NICK CAVE AND THE BAD SEEDS..
with perhaps a sprinkle of IGGY POP and the ROLLING STONES thrown in for good measure..
as sung by this exciteable weasel of guy, NAZZ..
and sure, it's sounding a little silly tonight to stuff a band like this in the front bar on a THURSDAY NIGHT in front of a respectably sober crowd (so obviously, they're really not firing on all cylinders here) but DAAAAMN.. you should see 'em when they're cranking in full flight at the horribly drunken end of a night to a full moshpit.. coz holy sheeeiiit maaaan do they rock!REALIST FEW
after 20-30 minutes of swaggering liver stained excess of KING DADDY, I look at my watch and realise the next band is likely starting up at the CRANKA by now.. and so, I rush back down the road just in the nick of time to see REALIST FEW starting up on stage..
as my ears are assaulted once more with another fine dose of unholy shredding..
gutteral gnashing and insane howling..
and the sorta intense ear bleeding screaming that sounds like the excruciatingly painful passing of a football sized kidney stone on constant repeat.. only, funky ;)
and you may also happen to note that these maniacs are also quite prone to swapping instruments exceedingly often.. as you can now see that the bass player and drummer have swapped places..
only for the bass player to now swap over to guitars..
in fact, sometimes the swap overs are so subtle that even I don't notice 'em.. as, for instance a month or so ago, whilst compiling a nifty animation of one of the REALIST FEW gigs, I forgot to notice that the bass and guitars were swapping places in one of the animation frames.. oooops! (yup, that's what happens when you write these damn things on a hangover each week.. yay!)
and all the while thru the madness.. here's BEARDY still rooted to the same spot, doing his same intense angry man beardy jam.. unmoving.. unrelenting.. just like a rock..
YEAAAAAH!! YOU GO BEARDY!! YOOOOU FREAKING ROCK!! WOOOOO!!!
yup.. REALIST FEW, they're like fast acting laxative for the mind.. survive one of these red line stabbing onslaughts.. and your mind will be cleansed of all the shit you've suffered from weeks before.. as now, fully refreshed.. I've now since forgotten all the past horrors of MORALS OF A MINOR, POCKET ACE and CIRCUS ARCADE... aaaaaah.. tranquility :)
*ooops.. shit, there goes the phone ringing in my head again*
and so, with REALIST FEW done, I throw myself into a passing bus..
and I'm home just after midnight.. aaaaah ;)FRIDAY NIGHT
tonight proved to be utter chaos.. but thankfully I had planned well in advance for this chaos, I had expected this chaos and had in fact looked forward and welcomed with open arms this chaos.. as in keeping with this chaos.. I knew of only ONE place to best prepare for said chaos.. and that place, would be the most foul and FUCKED UP places of alcoholic debauchery known to man..
yup, that place would be the COLONEL LIGHT, former hell hole JIMMY ROWE's, for $2 schooners of beer and other such cheap n nasty brain destroying elixers available each FRIDAY from 8PM to 10PM.. ooooooh have mercy on my mortal liver.. eeeeeee!
I wuz joined here in this oasis of stupid, by a cheerful hoard of MYSPACE geeks (hi JOE BLOGS!), a few freaks from THE BLACK DOVES and other such grinning lunatics as we rapidly built an escalating tower of toxicity piling to the ceiling..
after downing 4 schooners of PALE ALE in the space of an hour, it was now off to my next destination for the night, THE WORLDSEND, to continue my alcoholic odyssey..
as I joined forces with these likely looking fools - LUKE on the left, was obviously here to begin celebrating his 27th birthday in style (later to be seen staggering blindly into JIVE later in the evening) whilst ANDREAS on the right was simply doing his best to recognise simple shapes and colours..
a few beers and an hour or so later, and I'm now off to my NEXT destination.. as I pass by TATTERSALL on the end of HINDLEY ST to pick up a sixpack of COOPERS, then throw myself into passing bus to another one of JIMMY and SHANE's fucked up HOUSE PARTY's in the western suburb of FLINDERS PARK..FAT TAILED ANTICHINUS
upon walking in, I spot this bizarre grassroots hillbilly type act firing up in the living room..
apparently they were called FAT TAILED ANTECHINUS and were comprised by the ecclectic instrumental mix of upright bass, violin, piano, flute and other such wheatgrass weirdness (I think I even spotted an upright stick with tamborine shakers stuck on it at one point.. yeeeeHA!) indeed a most bizarre sound to assault my senses just past midnight on a FRIDAY NIGHT.. and yet, a strangely enjoyable one at that (even if in thankfully small doses.. aahhahahaha!)
other entertainment on offer at this party included..
FOOSBALL TABLES.. often frequently peopled by the sort've happy rank amateurs I could easily beat each and every game (and never by the diabolical JIMMY who'd kill me in 2 seconds flat) aaaaah :)
a fine selection of insane alcoholic beverages..
and a shambling selection of equally insane space cadets..
after an hour or two or such cheerful nonsense (including a very welcome, yet insane attack of the 1AM winter BBQ, nice one W SHANE!) it was then that I was offered the next random destination of the night as I jumped into this car with 5 or 6 of my fellow dribbling idiots..
as driven capably by this most responsible of motor vehicular drivers..
to then arrive back in the city, for TRANSMISSION (upstairs at the DUKE OF YORK) featuring the usual selection of INDIE / 80's NEW WAVE / STONER ALTERNATIVE DJ's and $3.50 pints of piss..
running amok with these lunatics on and off the dancefloor and wot'ever else rubbish you would come to expect in a beer fueled haze at about 2AM on a FRIDAY..
an hour or so later, I then made my way down to the CRANKA.. where I soon bumped into ADAM, EMMA and a few other recogniseable hooting baboons loitering around the pool tables.. and apparently I caught them just in time as they were just leaving to go to this insane house party that wuz going on tonight and wuz wondering if I wanted to come along..
"ANOTHER HOUSE PARTY!? FUCK YEAAAAAH!!"
and so, I jump into a taxi.. and 20 minutes later, I somehow arrive BACK at the same damn party I left just 2 hours earlier.. whoaaaaa, trippy..
and yeah, JIMMY's looking about as confused as I am at this point..
"WTF!?? wot are YOU doing back here!??"
yup, and here's where the rest of the night is spent, 5 to 6 of us, in a backyard at the tail end of one howlingly fucked up house party.. cracking up a bucket of walnuts like a pack of huddled mental patients howling at the moon (and I think I vaguely remember cracking walnuts with my teeth too.. aahahaha!)
finally at 6AM or so, and now beyond all levels of mental coherance and with everyone else passing out asleep.. I throw myself into a taxi and head home for much needed rest.. thus making for one freakingly chaotic, yet surprisingly exceptionally enjoyable night of freerange stupidity :)SATURDAY NIGHT
it's now the 3rd night in the row of my dribbling self destruction.. and after the last 2 nights of hitting buses, taxis and throwing myself thru passenger side windows in all sorts of ridiculous dyslexic travels throughout the city.. I'm really starting to seriously consider more efficient forms of transport as I make my way down WEST TCE to the 2nd bus stop tonight..
hmmmm, I wonder how much mileage I could get out of this?
my destination tonight, is the back room of the GOVERNOR HINDMARSH, as my objective is to bludgeon the last of my still functional braincells senseless with a fine selection of live bands here performing for the "BEST OF LOCAL ANAESTHETIC 2".. featuring - TRIXIE PLAIN, QUIET CHILD, BLOW UP BETTY, TONY FONT SHOW and FIRE! SANTA ROSA, FIRE! wooooo :)TRIXIE PLAIN
to begin the night, we have TRIXIE PLAIN on stage..
presenting yet another insane side project of W SHANE FORSTER (drummer for currently in hiatus SWEEPER, ex drummer of ANGELIK, ex drummer of INNERVISION and ex drummer of other dribblingly stoner side projects too numerous and bizarre to mention) as he performs both lead vocals and drums with ferocious intensity to a largely hungover audience..
with a band that sounds like a mix between the full throttle 60's punk rock energy of THE HOLD STEADY, IGGY POP and THE STOOGES, THE HIVES and late 80's "BLEACH" era NIRVANA with something more stoner indie and jangling disccordant like I HEART HIROSHIMA..
making for the kinda unholy stabbing minimalist rock fury that could even drive coma patients running and screaming into a beserker rage onto the battlefield thirsting for carnage..
and yet, in all it's alcoholic shambling uncontrollable excess, it also makes for a damn near masterpiece of an opening act.. as it drives just about everyone to the bar to drink themselves stupid, ready to go stupid on the dancefloor for the next 4 bands.. geeenius :)
and just to kick things along further into the screaming realms of the bizarre, for a surprise finale they then invite Adelaide's #1 gatecrashing MC, COPY 1 (aka: ADAM STUCKEY) up on stage as they perform the most bewilderingly unexpected of covers, "PUSH IT" by SALT N PEPA..
and as much as you'd think attempting a cover as insane as THIS would result in an absolute disaster.. they somehow manage to crank out the kinda once-off brilliantly messy-as-all-fuck random performance that damn near destroys everyone in their path.. liiiike fuck duuuuude.. it had to be the most MENTAL shit I've heard all year.. CAAARNAGE :)QUIET CHILD
which then brings us in a strange change of pace to the hauntingly deep and sobering sounds of the 2nd band for the night, QUIET CHILD as they hit the stage..
as they bring forth deeply textured and melancholy grooves that gets all their devoted gathering rent-a-crowd masses swaying away slowly in the audience..
with a band that sounds like a mix between the more melodic side of the DEFTONES..
and the soaring widescreen stadium sounds of mid 80's PINK FLOYD..
as they play with a determined, ever grim and resolute fervour..
it's some freakingly intense and serious shit, and it really makes me kinda embarassed when I hoot like an appreciative baboon after each song with a beer in my hand (as I've been known to do), instead of just bowing in utmost reverence or something.. but still, it's really some quite impressive stuff.. next time I wanna jump off a bridge, I want these guys to be there to pull me back from the brink :)
by the end of QUIET CHILD's set, the crowd is really starting to build..BLOW UP BETTY
as we reach the 3rd act of the night, BLOW UP BETTY..
an all-girl howling full throttle punkrock band..
featuring, curiously enough, PAUL BELIAL's (CIRCLE CLAN's lead singer) kid sister thrashing away like ANIMAL from the MUPPETS on the drums..
as they thrash away the kinda fuckoff in-ya-face riot grrrrl insanity..
that'd put pissy little amateur acts like HOLE, THE DISTILLERS or THE DONNAS in the dust..
and sure they may look like goofy midgets recently escaped from SANTA's WORKSHOP on a sugar fueled killing spree thru a toystore after dark..
but daaamn do they rock.. I mean shit, look at that bass player go.. YEAAAAAAAH!! WOOOOO!!TONY FONT SHOW
and just when the crowd is reaching boiling point.. just when you think they've had enough and can't possibly take any more.. it's time for band number 4 to deliver the killing blow, the band that needs no introduction (as I've reviewed them in enough weekend gigs to make them damn near infamous by now) TONY fucking FONT SHOW.. oooooooh sheeeeiiiit!
RICHARD, the psychedelic tin man guitarist..
LEEROY, the narcoleptic itchy trigger finger singer..
MATT, the spastic monkey fuzzpuppet bass player..
and the ever unholy gnashing fury of PHIL the voodoo drummer (and yes, this image IS animated, it's just flashing at the sorta frequencies that'd give hummingbirds headaches ;)
as MATT and LEE provide us with their bizarre mongoose mating dance on stage..
MATT coming up from the front..
attacking from the rear (eeesh! that looks painful!)
LEE, attempting to reach his own..
which makes for much exploding happy happy joy joy in the crowd.. weeee!
(and yes, I'm about as confused as you are at this point..)
yup, even tho' LEE's currently suffering yet another one of his bizarre rage "blackouts" on stage, MATT continues to play around him like nothing's out've the ordinary..
as RICH wonders wot kinda fucked up hallucinogen PHIL has slipped into their beers backstage tonight..
wait.. I think LEE's woken up again!
oh, no.. wait.. he's gone again..
as PHIL's about to reach critical mass and explode in a human fireball..
and MATT is utterly losing his shit, as the invisible puppeteers controlling him from above have collapsed in epilectic convulsions to all the ever shifting lights swirling about on stage..
and even RICH is losing his shit out there.. whoaaaa.. sure sign of the apocalypse?
yup, things get a little strange at this point.. and before too long all reality soon folds in on itself, leaving nothing but a smoking ruin on stage and a scattering of limbs all over the venue floor and flailing up the walls.. whoaaaa, surely those poor unsuspecting fools out there couldnt've survived this!?!
all in all.. it wuz one of those power packed exploding carcrashes of funk metal insanity that if you missed tonight, you'd just about be kicking yourself, the person next to you, your dog, your neighbours cat and then diving off a bridge before QUIET CHILD gives you a stern talking to lest you be crazy enough to tempt the fates and miss seeing these lunatics play before they damn near do themselves a fatal injury up there.. SEE THEM PLAY BEFORE IT'S TOOOOO LATE!! BEFORE PHIL KILLS THEM ALL.. AAAAUUAUAUAUAAUUAAAAGGGHH!! *cough* no really, all hyperbola aside.. they're actually an ok enough band, just go see 'em already.. so I can shut up about it, aiight? :)
*phew* I dunno how anyone could've survived that.. but, somehow there's people still left standing out there and willing to do themselves an injury for the final band of the night..FIRE! SANTA ROSA, FIRE!
as the band with the most ridiculous name of the night hits the stage, FIRE! SANTA ROSA, FIRE!
with their own peculiar brand of spiky indie dancepunk wackiness..
as the little flailing indie kids in the crowd go nuts to all the jangling INTERPOL style riffs.. THE RAPTURE style lunatic screaming.. the chunging BLOC PARTY funky bass grooves..
and some truly insane spikey metronomic drumming by this fluffy haired freak.. wooo!
and before too long, everything rapidly spirals out've control (again) when the crowd decides to charge the stage in force, as arms and legs and shit goes flying freaking everywhere..
making for one helluva fucked free-for-all finale to this endless marathon of a gig.. and yeah, I kinda wished I could've made a more coherant review of these guys, but by this time of night.. there's not a sober person left in the house.. it's freaking anarchy out there.. and I'm just happy to've got out alive..
but from wot little my brain can remember.. they sounded pretty cool tho' ;)
aaaah.. finally, it's all over now, everyone's left the venue, a hushed stillness has descended upon empty halls.. there's not a single soul stirring.. not even a mou..
arrr *shit* no, wait.. fucking gatecrashers :P
yup, obviously I couldn't get away that easily.. as the night still has more to offer us cheerfully retarded and hooting baboons as we next find ourself at the usual trash pile, the CROWN N ANCHOR for more furthering stupidity, hilarity and goofball hijinxs well into the night..
drinking ourselves ever beyond the point of no return..
and going shit crazy on the dancefloor (wooooo, look at that wacky sugar fueled SALLYCAT go! :)
in a venue that's surprisingly packed to seething point tonight, as it appears everyone in Adelaide is drinking it up in unison tonight.. clearly with very hairy results in mind ;)
and when CRANKA is not nearly enough stupidity.. thoughts as always turn to SHOTZ..
where we discover that despite all rumours to the contrary, LEE didn't in fact die of a horrific heartattack in the middle of their TONY FONT SHOW gig, and is in fact still alive and well.. or perhaps he's just being operated as a puppet with RICHARD's hand up his arse (it's really hard to tell at this stage..)
the more observant of you may also notice the "it is against the law for us to serve alcohol to people who are drunk" sign in this photo... which is funny, considering I've never actually seen a use for a law like that in a venue like THIS at 4AM (and isn't being drunk the only reason to be here in the 1st place!? ;)
aaaand speaking of drunks, here's a fine selection of them hiding out back..
as they perform for the camera..
doing um.. wot'ever the hell this is meant to be..
yup, SPOZ is indeed most confused (or quite possibly exceptionally drunk, either way.. I wouldn't be serving him anything but a carefully aimed tennis ball at this point ;)
and when SHOTZ isn't nearly stupid enough and everywhere else is closed after 5AM, there's always good 'ol reliable FUGLY CRAPS to end the night.. eating wot'ever the fuckarse retarded crap is that you'd EAT at a place like this, hmmmmmm.. junk food anyone?
and thus the weekend comes full cycle.. where what begins in a pile of trash, invariable ends in a pile of trash.. as demonstrated here by JOE BLOGS (yup, that absinthe is one helluva drink ;)
and finally, with the watch ticking past 7AM.. it's now time to go home as I throw myself down GRENFELL ST, CURRIE ST and then into a taxi.. eeeeeeeee!
thus making for one helluva fucked up extended epic of a weekend to end all other weekends.. the kinda weekend that'd reduce most mere mortals to the level of babbling infants.. the kinda weekend that claimed it's fair share of victims (as I heard of many of their hilarious.. HI GUYS! I wont name names :) yup, this weekend made fools of us all.. grinning fools.. but the question remains.. who is MORE the fool? the fool? or the fool that follows them?
Previously on Spoz's Rant: DJ Shadow at Thebarton Theatre