:: Friday, June 23, 2006

THE SOUND OF ONE HAND CLAPPING

SPOZ buys more CD's.. SPOZ downloads more MP3's.. SPOZ listens.. SPOZ reviews.. you read.. you wonder why.. thus is the madness that is "THE SOUND OF ONE HAND CLAPPING".. so jump on in kiddies and broaden yer minds..


DRESDEN DOLLS - YES, VIRGINIA
in brief: lunatic asylum piano punk
rating: 3 / 5

aaaaah yes, the DRESDEN DOLLS.. those crazy bohemian kids who burst on the scene a few years back with their fuckoff insane punk piano rock opera ditty's that sounded quite like wot TORI AMOS would sound like if she wuz beaten repetitively over the head with an absinthe bottle.. cue much howling, key smashing, over-the-top screaming melodramatic excess.. it wuz all really quite a sight to behold and now, after their brilliant debut, we're faced with the dreaded "2nd release", the sophmore release.. do they make it? do they break it? or did they just fake it all along?

in essence, this album is more of the same.. the same manic keyboard smashing, the same schitzoid driven vocals, the same operatic excess.. but, here it feels a bit more cohesive over the entire album, there's less of the abrasive edges and loony excesses as seen with the first album.. which at first glance feels like a bit of a disappointment.. there's no obvious "GIRL ANACHRONISM" or "COIN OPERATED BOY" here, nothing obviously screaming for attention.. and yet, in removing the extremes and building upon the strengths of their sound they've produced something more mature, more measured and given everything just that little more room to breathe.. for the most part this works, but it's also a bit of a double edged sword.. giving us a perfectly solid cohesive album without the obvious singles to draw you in.. a worthy album, but one that requires a few listens and some patience to truly appreciate..

highlights: SEX CHANGES, DELILAH, DIRTY BUSINESS, SING


MY SISTER THE COP
in brief: smash off and die
rating: 3.5 / 5

this is the sound of your ears bleeding.. this is the sound of the walls screaming.. this is the sound of being beaten to death by sledgehammers and loving it.. this is the sound of civilization crumbling around your ears to the sounds of chanting and hooting idiots with a trigger happy wish for total annihilation.. it's the sorta insane shit that 99% people will hate.. but, if your music is the kinda music that'll cause you bodily injury to you and everyone around you when you attempt to dance to it.. then this will be JUST the thing for you..

to describe this music, is to imagine an all shredding, howling, screaming, gnashing, orchestra of bouncy bouncy dancepunk indie pain.. very much like a doppleganger for the TEST ICICLES, minus all their wacky radio-friendly pop sensibilities.. it's abrasive as fuck, it's all shouts, needle thin driven gangsta guitars, spastic drumming and occassional retarded electro flourishes and you can't freaking recognise a word they're screaming.. and yet, thru all this noise and ultraviolence.. you cant help but start to really enjoy it.. for no matter how much the bleeding noise hits you, it's still countered by some wacky beat you could almost see y'self dancing to (if only you didn't break every bone in your body in the process)

it's pure blood on the walls intensity, and it really wont be for everyone's tastes.. and yet, for what it does, it does DAMN well.. so, if you like to live your music on the self destructive side.. give this puppy a spin :)

highlights: EVERYBODIES PREGNANTS, SORRY WE'RE NOT ALL WOLVES


phew.. well, that's all the CD reviews I got time for this week, so stay tuned next week for more fringes of the musical zoo.. eeeeeeeeeeeee!

:: Spoz 4:57 AM |
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DESTROY EVERYTHING YOU TOUCH

each and every week, more and more people are choosing to read SPOZ's RANT over other publications to get their weekend fill of the crazy going's on in and around this 'ere steaming crapholio of Adelaide.. dont believe me? well, why not read some of our (highly fictionalised) glowing testimonials that are flooding into our email inbox on a daily basis and judge for y'self!

NEW YORK TIMES - "I dont know who this is, but I'm changing the locks!"
THE UK DAILY TELEGRAPH - "you suck! no, really.. come around sometime, we got $50! sucky sucky!"
NME - "we love you, no.. wait.. we HATE YOU!.. no.. we LOVE YOU! wait.. who are YOU again?"
SYDNEY MORNING HERALD - "Adelaide? hahaha.. where the FUCK is that? no really.. we're asking?"
THE MELBOURNE AGE - "we highly disapprove of your low brow pedestrian filth! begone you foul wretch!!"
MIXMAG - "duuuuuuuuuude... hahahaha.. I'm so HIGH right now!"
THE ADELAIDE ADVERTISER - "my cat smells like cat food! :)"
SPIN - "you spin me right round baby right round like a record baby right right right round.. uuuugh shit I'm gonna be sick *BLEEAAAARRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!*"
BONO - "do you wanna see THE EDGE cry!? do YOU!? coz that's wot yer making him do.. arse!"
ANGELINA JOLIE - "shit.. um, duude? I think we need to talk.. this baby kinda looks a LOT like you!"
THE POPE - "FOR THE ONE MILLIONTH TIME!! there's NO FREAKIN' LEPRECAUNS in the VATICAN!!"
AL JAZEERA - "SPOZ's RANT.. you crack me up! ha ha ha! oh, and DEATH TO ALL AMERICANS!"
GEORGE W BUSH - "uh ee oh.. I did me a poopee poo in me peepee pants *WAAAUUAHH!!*"
TV GUIDE - "we're giving you 4 stars upside the head, bitch!"
ROLLING STONE MAGAZINE - "la la la weeee're not listeeeninnnng! :)"

yup, as you can clearly see.. 9 out've 10 people agree this website should be bombed to the ground, sprinkled with holy water, heavily salted, busted in with sledgehammers and crowbars, doused in petrol, filled in with concrete, dragged thru the streets of London behind 4 horses, drowned, shot at, poisoned and filled with a mixture of birdseed, styrofoam, dessicated coconut and ball bearings and thrown off the nearest tall building into oncoming traffic lest it breed and curse the world to 1000 years of darkness.. such is the unholy terror that is SPOZ's RANT! feaaar the beaaaast!! (oh, and tell yer friends.. cuz we wuv each and wev'wee wun of yuz awwwwww :)


FRIDAY NIGHT
I originally had plans to go see MIRRORLINE, MR WEDNESDAY and DR INVISIBLO (some wackyarse band from Melbourne) cook up a bong load of howling chihuahua rock and stoner ecclectism at JADE MONKEY tonight.. a damn fine plan to be sure (and a plan I normally wouldn't second guess) till, at the last minute I was offered an even BETTER plan tonight to go see BIT BY BATS, STRAIGHT TO VIDEO, ARTAX MISSION and some fuckarse bizarre band from Melbourne called BASEBALL at ROCKET BAR.. go figure?

so, before you could've dropped acid to JEFFERSON AIRPLANE's "WHITE RABBIT" I wuz here at ROCKET BAR.. 9PM, $12 at the door.. and up 2 very steep flights of stairs to sink me first few beers at the bar..



ARTAX MISSION
so, here's the first band for tonight, ARTAX MISSION..



cooking up a witch's brew of swirling psychedelia, howling distortion, lunatic delay pedal screaming, chugging bongrock freakouts and cascading brown notes to the accompanyment of obscure lyrics of existentialist angst and hurricane drumming..



or imagine if you will the unholy love child between WOLFMOTHER and the YEAH YEAH YEAH's (with perhaps a dash of SONIC YOUTH for good measure) delivered to you in a burning brown paper bag at your doorstep by this crazy guitarist / lead singer dude with the AFRO..



and this shrieking priestess of face melting weirdness (also doubling as the bassplayer) as, with the drummer they send you spiraling into the 9th plane of hell.. but, y'know.. in a really really cool way :)



watch as the crazy afro guitarist spins his swirly shit with the guitar forming wave after wave of feedback and cascading riffs to crash around your ears..



be hypnotized by the hypnotic gnashing percussion spiralling out've this most unholy of drumkits..



whilst the female bassplayer totally loses her shit and vibrates out've this dimension..



yup.. it's been a few times now that I've seen these guys play live.. and yet, no matter how many times I see them they never seem to get any less freaking bizarre :)



now that ARTAX MISSION have taken their fill of human sacrifices and melted into the inky blackness of the night, it's time to hit the bar for a few more beers..



STRAIGHT TO VIDEO
as the next band for the night, STRAIGHT TO VIDEO hit the stage..



which in a night of exceptionally mind melting tripped out bands, had the misfortune of having to act as the "straight guys" for tonight..



sure, don't get me wrong, they had it all going for 'em.. they had that uber indie cool UK / NYC shit going for 'em.. sounding equal parts like INTERPOL, BLOC PARTY, THE EDITORS or an extra chirpy JOY DIVISION.. and on any other night they would've totally rocked the dog's bollocks..



but with the sublime line up of circus freaks on offer tonight.. the impact of the wacky hammering indie guitar wuz kinda lost on me.. hmmmm.. perhaps in another setting and another time I'd be more than curious to check ya shit out.. so, like.. hit me up with some promo when ya next gig's coming up.. cool?



with another band done for the night.. it's time to go back to the bar for more beers and also time to soak up some of the ambient weirdness that is the ROCKET BAR..

so here we have a desklamp that also doubles as a DALI'esque pretzel on a CHERNOBYL killing spree.. hmmmmm.. frightening.. angular.. and yet also, indeed most illuminating!



BASEBALL
and now up on stage we have the next band for the night, BASEBALL..



now, I couldn't possibly explain WHY the fuck they were called "BASEBALL"..



or why they had THIS dude on lead vocals near about destroy a violin like he wuz trying to saw his own devil possessed arm off in a pilled out frenzy..



or explain why the crazy music they spewed forth sounded like a mix between a fiddle contest against SATAN and a 15 year old chronic masturbator, the instrumentalist act THE DIRTY THREE on crack, NICK CAVE's old band THE BIRTHDAY PARTY and a whisky soaked bar brawl in a b-grade western..



but holy SHEEiiT wuz it freakin' out've control! and definitely the highlight of the night to see a band like this treat the violin not just as some tacked on cliche.. but work it like a madman would shred a guitar apart strings to fretboard in a gnashing inferno of screaming intensity.. absolute freaking carnage! :)



with the band now finished, it's back to the bar to soak up more beers and to sample some more of ROCKET BAR's weird artistic ambience.. with this brass sculpture I'd like to call "Duck Whistles Vs International Illegal Arms Trade"..

hmmmmm.. indeed most abstractly quasi-political and thought provoking..



BIT BY BATS
and now with my brain sufficiently crawling up the walls after the combined efforts of the last 3 bands, it's time for the headliner act BIT BY BATS to deliver the final killing blow..



BIT BY BATS were formerly (albeit possibly brief) denizens of the Adelaide music scene, having now since moved to Melbourne to terrorise more unsuspecting ears interstate.. but every once and a while they still like to return back to Adelaide to fuck shit up with these crazy gigs.. and for that we are eternally grateful (although, quite possibly our livers will be hating on you the next day)



these guys for the most part are a deadringer for THE CURE, only minus all the wimpy pirate shirt action and the retarded sappy love ballads.. and multiplying on all the thrashing 80's postpunk intensity..



and yet, not only do they feature the indie 80's throwback essentials of icey synths..



all those wacky cascading 80's style guitars set to repeat with reverb and delay into a riffing hurricane..



and them bodypopping angular bass riffs and more than enough pendulum swinging wacky dancepunk beats to drive all them indie art kids into a frenzy on the dancefloor..



but they also happened to feature a lead singer who sounds a deadringer for ROBERT SMITH at his early 80's best who likes to fuck shit up with a theramin.. I mean, shit, how can ya go wrong with a band that has a theramin? it can make ANY tragic pack of nerds sound tragically cool.. just ask PORTISHEAD ;)



sure.. this may've been full blown 80's new romantic cheese at it's finest.. and I might've been seriously drunk by this point.. but DAMN did these guys rock.. I near about destroyed meself to a bloody pulp on the dancefloor in front of stage to this shit.. FUCK YEAAAAH! :)



phew.. so, after 4 bands and who knows how many beers.. it's nearing 1AM, and about time I move to another venue in search of more beer fueled stupidity to entertain me.. so, I bid farewell to the indie stonerism that is THE ROCKET BAR and go staggering down HINDLEY ST towards the inevitable destination that all drunkeness eventually leads any of us to - THE CRANKA..



HINDLEY ST leads me to CURRIE ST, which then leads me to GRENFELL ST, which then leads to me getting lost in the middle of it all as I'm receiving drunken phone messages sending me this way and that (hi SIMONE! drunk enough?) until I finally find a bunch of people on PIRIE ST.. and then the CRANKA 1/2 an hour later..

upon arrival, I'm greeted by some of the usual CRANKA regulars..

BRENDAN the cookie monster..



SARA the red panda (self proclaimed myspace whore and local SUICIDE GIRL pin-up)



JOE BLOGS, who's obviously chosen to drink responsibly tonight..



SIMONE's legs..



SVEN, the METAL MONKEY..



and the ever familiar epilectic dance moves of W SHANE FORSTER..



which then inspires us to seek some of our own epilepsy on the dancefloor..
(and no, I can't explain the shit with the yellow duck either)



this is soon followed by more responsible drinking, *ahem*..



and, um.. wot'ever the FUCK this is meant to be?



and before too long we're all spilling out into the streets..



by 4AM CRANKA is now closing for the night.. so we all pile into SVEN's car as he's waiting for us conveniently by the traffic lights (or perhaps, considering the likes of us, wuz simply trying for a quick get-away and hoping we wouldn't see him passing by.. ooops too late! MUHAHAHAHAHAHA!)



mysteriously, in our search for further venues to continue our adventures.. we find SHOTS has already closed for the night (before 4AM!!??) and later wandering down HINDLEY ST, discover that ENIGMA and SUPERMILD have ALSO closed for the night..

so, with nowhere else to flail around like twatted out lunatics we resort to dancing in the street instead and scaring passing traffic as we go.. hmmmmmm, come to think of it.. even IF places were still open tonight.. would you let THESE people into your venue?

yeah.. I think not ;)



obviously this all has become too much for STUCKEY (who's now decided to sleep the rest of the night off in a blind alley off HINDLEY ST) so, we shake his hand.. ring him a lunatic bus home.. and we're on our merry way (or at least, we would've if he didn't happen to wake up and chase us down the street ;)



with nowhere else open tonight.. coz nobody in their right mind (even as drunk as us) would ever step foot in either the ROSEMONT, the CASINO (or even the dreaded STRATHMORE.. eeeesh!) we decide instead to head down to AUSSIE PIZZA HOUSE on WEST TCE for some end of night munchies.. as much retarded climbing of fences, walls and other such rubbish ensues on the way down there.. which probably explains why it took over 40 minutes to get from the west end of HINDLEY ST to just 100 metres away on WEST TCE.. hmmmmm..



after much pounding on the windows of AUSSIE PIZZA HOUSE (as the place wuz closing up at 5AM), we finally managed to get in, stuff ourselves stupid on pizza and hoot like baboons well into dawn..

a few shades before 6AM and I'm just about washed up for the night.. so, before the sun all turns us to ash.. we run screaming for taxi's the hell out've here.. and home to our respective psychiatric staff..



thus ending one exceptionally messy yet fun filled night of live music and beer fueled carnage throughout the streets of ADELAIDE.. eeeeeeeeeeee! :)


SATURDAY NIGHT
how I'm not dead, I don't know.. how I'm not missing a few vital organs and coughing up blood, gargling razorblades and dribbling in a padded room in a straightjacket is anyone's guess.. but, somehow in defiance of all that is decent in this world.. I find myself once more out on the town for tonight's entertainment - DOUBLE HANDED, SOFT WHITE MACHINE and the one and only TONY FONT SHOW at ENIGMA BAR.. and since obviously, this is barely enough madness for us to handle in one night, we decide to double our fun by also sampling some of the fine acts next door with RUNNING WITH HORSES, MR WEDNESDAY and THE DUMB EARTH playing at JIVE.. phew, it's gonna be one helluva night.. :)

DOUBLE HANDED
so, first up at ENIGMA, we have DOUBLE HANDED on stage..



now, firstly.. I'm kinda confused by the name these guys have chosen.. I mean, shit.. are these guys avid supporters of the AMBIDEXTEROUS? are they advocates for the full fisted 45 degree reach around? do they really love sock puppets? who knows?



I think they once tried adding me to their myspace too.. I distinctly remembered a few months ago looking at their page when the request came thru, thinking "oooh look! another no name bunch of arsehats thinking they can add ME out the blue huh!!? narrr FUCK 'EM!!" as I pressed the "deny" button and laughed hysterically at my own diabolical sense of evil'ness (aaaah how I love doing that :) )



but in hindsight, as progressive doom rock metal acts go, they're actually pretty damn good.. nice work guys! (but seriously, lay off the myspace adds until I've seen at least a FEW of yer gigs.. aiiiight?)



with the first band DOUBLE HANDED now finished and with about 20 minutes to kill whilst SOFT WHITE MACHINE set up their gear.. we decide to duck down to JIVE next door to sink a few beers (coz, seriously.. who DRINKS at ENIGMA if they have the choice?) and to see wot band happens to be on stage..

MR WEDNESDAY
and as luck would have it, as we walk in, we find MR WEDNESDAY up on stage..



and as we slam the door inside and trudge upto the bar hooting like exciteable baboons yelling to the bartender "EEEEY.. JIMMY YA BAAASTARD! HOWZ ABOUT PINT A COOPERS PAAAAALE!!"..



we find the venue has hushed out to nary a mouse fart as MR WEDNESDAY fill the air with subtle nebulous textures of strings, sweeping melancholic synths, cymbal hissing fills and crooning melancholy..



yeah.. *oops* guess you guys heard us from a mile away huh?



still.. there wuz nothing better than to switch from all the noise, the shredding guitars and all the screaming at the ENIGMA.. to relax in between with the subtle nuances of MR WEDNESDAY at JIVE as they weaved in and out like bittersweet windchimes in a light breeze..



yup.. we may've only spent 20 minutes and 1-2 pints of pale here.. a mere hit and run in anyone's books.. but, for the chance to sample just a hint of the subtle swirling flavours MR WEDNESDAY brews up each and every gig, it wuz well worth the trip.. aaaah :)



SOFT WHITE MACHINE
anyhoo.. with our beers done at JIVE, it's back out've the dutch oven and into the fire as we return to ENIGMA to catch SOFT WHITE MACHINE firing up on the hotplate..



so, here's KARL doing his trademark toddler hissy fit with the guitar..



whilst ANDREAS's mullet shines all fluffy and bright in the stage lights..



JETT chunks up the brown notes (now ever more vigilant for any farts that may prove 3-dimensional)



whilst NICK hides out in the back and smashing the drums within an inch of their lives..



hmmmmm.. is it just me, or does KARL kinda look like rainman when he's up there? ;)



meanwhile ANDREAS attempts to find himself even more stage lighting to show off his mullet..



whilst JETT takes some personal time with a microphone..



and yet, somehow within all these silly theatrics.. they've once again cooked up yet another sublime ear splitting orchestra of hurricane guitars, swinging monkey funk beats and wacky spanish harmonising and art-metal terror that damn near brings the roof down around our ears.. oooooh yeaaah!



now that the aliens have arrived to abduct ANDREAS to further their hair sciences.. we know it's time to swap venues once more to JIVE, to fill up on more beers and more ecclectic musical weirdness..



DUMB EARTH
as we spot DUMB EARTH up on stage..



making for something that would either sound like TOM WAITS backing band, a NEW ORLEANS funeral march or something you'd find as the backing soundtrack to a haemorrhoids ad..



it wuz swampy, it wuz bluesy, it wuz slow and languid, damn near creepy and it really freaked me the fuck out.. but, yeah.. it wuz kinda cool all the same..



TONY FONT SHOW
but obviously, too much of this would've damn near destroyed our fragile brain's.. so we switched back to ENIGMA to catch headliner act TONY FONT SHOW in full flight on stage.. mixing equal parts SYSTEM OF A DOWN, PRIMUS, RED HOT CHILI PEPPERS, FAITH NO MORE and wot sounded like an angry homeless guy with tourette's syndrome wrestling random strangers for spare change..



so, in presenting the TONY FONT SHOW tonight, we have twitchy LEE on schitzoid vocals..



accompanied by the subtle ever shifting moods of RICHARD destroying his guitar with noodling ease..



as MATT does the incomprehensible happy man dance on bass guitar..



whilst PHIL the satan spawn drummer.. hides at the back.. gnashes away at the drums.. and waits.. ever so patiently.. for that one fatefull day when he can strike with a delirious brain eating fury and destroy us all.. maaaaaaaauuuuggghhh!!



meanwhile as the surging sea of people in front of the stage reaches boiling point, LEE tries for his best MOSES impersonation, and parts the red sea to make way for beer rider to be delivered on stage..



whilst MATT is lost in his own little world, honking out accompanying dog barkings to his spleen twisting psychedelic bass cutups and brown note funk showers..



before too long RICHARD's freaky sub molecular vibrations has let loose on LEE brain once again, turning his thought processes to jelly..



and so once more, another set ends with LEE on the floor flip flopping around like a fish out've water screaming unholy murder at all of us for putting him there.. aaaaaah, good times.. gooood times :)



but with the crowd hooting for more and baying for blood.. you know this isn't the end of it.. as TONY FONT SHOW are called back on stage once more for an encore, as they deliver us a cover of FAITH NO MORE's "THE GENTLE ART OF MAKING ENEMIES".. and in doing so, LEE makes for one monumental blunder on the night when he says THIS to the microphone..

"oh.. and if anyone else knows the words to this song, feel free to join me up on stage!"

yup, and just like THE PRESETS, or ANGELIK from a week ago.. another free-for-all has erupted on stage.. as a whole bunch of us idiots (including myself) find ourselves up there making total twits of ourselves in front of the microphone and all over the shit running amok like children.. as TONY FONT SHOW do their best to play along with the chaos erupting around them as they thrash ENIGMA out to one helluva brain melting finale.. hmmmmmmm.. another free-for-all on stage.. coincidence? or is possible that members of the TONY FONT SHOW are getting crazy ideas from my blog? (not to mention how many other bands are thinking of trying this shit out now) oooooh shit.. what HAVE I DONE!! WOT HAVE I CREATED!!?

anyhoo, with the ENIGMA reduced to a smouldering ruin.. we say goodbye to PHIL's diabolical drumkit and head out onto the street with aims for furthering our stupidity..



from ENIGMA, there's a brief stopover as we gatecrash some crazyarse private party at KAOS cafe.. with a DJ cranking out some shredding smooth breakbeat terrorism, whilst the bar charges $7 for a stubbie of PALE ALE (ouch!), as we cue much retarded epilepsy moves on the dancefloor till about 2AM..

eventually at 2:30AM, I next find myself at the CRANKA and where many more beers follow..



and once again, just like clockwork.. I'm back on the dancefloor at the CRANKA making a total twit of meself till the wee hours of the morning, where I soon find THIS twit (one of LAKEN's crazy friend's I think) climbing the walls and ceiling at the corner of the CRANKA dancefloor pulling some fucked up dance moves whilst the rest of us cheer him on.. WOOOO! YEAAAH!! ROCK!!!



ummmmm.. yup.. when you see this shit going on at the CRANKA, you know it's time to leave!

and so.. at 3:30AM, and with my brain reduced to a fine liquid mush, I make my way out and pile myself into the last late night $6 bus and head on home..

and, thus ends yet another freaking epic odyssey of a weekend of the SPOZ :)

Previously on Spoz's Rant: Deleted Scenes And Outtakes

:: Spoz 11:44 PM |
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