BEFORE THE AFTERMATH + YOUR MOTIVE FOR
LIVE @ JADE MONKEY / Saturday September 22nd 2007
Oooooh what a wild and crazy time we had Friday night! The madness, the wonder, the glory! The utter and complete self destruction! Painting the town red, black and blue! Booster, Dead Popes Of The Vatican, Kasavett and the Warsaw Flowers! Lo, we stared deep into the belly of the beast and lo did our ears bleed a rainbow of the infinite! It rained flaming wreckage for days! Craters spread over a five mile radius! Satellites knocked out've orbit! The entire planet played ping pong with the moon and WON! WOWEEEEE!! and then just when I thought it couldn't get ANY better, I met THIS guy! Oh the magic we had! We wined, we dined! He brought me flowers, I propose! It was a modest ceremony just me, him and a donkey but the wedding night? OH MY FREAKING GAAWWD! I got tingles down me spine just thinking about it! and then the honeymoon? need I say more? aye? aye!? *nudge nudge* you getting me!? PHWOAAAAR!! :)
*ahem* yes ok I admit it, that was probably a little TOO far even for me. Seriously, have I finally cracked? Have I totally lost my fucking mind!? Will that random bearded loon from last night EVER read this blog!? Will he ever pay me that child support? (wuh?) Who knows!? The only thing I can tell for certain is that 16 hours later I wash ashore at the Jade Monkey, both my kidneys are missing and I have NO freaking clue how the hell I got here but hey, what's new? :)ZETA LEAGUE
so here we are arriving just in time for a live gig (weird how this shit always seems to happen to me!) with the first band for the night the Zeta League. As much as my raging insomnia this week allows me to recollect, they sound rather like a cruisier version of the Bloc Party as fronted by Julian Casablancas from The Strokes: or at least Julian Casablancas if he happened to play a live set just after he lost his record contract, his girlfriend, someone shot his dog and his apartment burnt down whilst suffering a head cold. You could also compare them to Something For Kate minus all of Paul Dempsey's weird fuckarse lyrics about quantum physics but then someone would hafta drag you out into the street, shoot you and then write a song about it.. and perhaps this band could write that song as they're actually surprisingly pretty damn fucking good. There's some really lush melodic guitar layerings here, ecclectic percussion, vocals with distinct and altogether deranged nasal twang. Seriously, if I ever wanted to fake my own funeral for tax reasons, these guys would easily be the 4th or 5th band I'd call to play it.. YEAAAS!
Now that I'm sufficiently buried under 6ft of compacted dirt and covered in worms all singing high-C (whoaaaaaaaah!) the next band to hit the stage does it's very best to dig me out again, and as much as I would love to write something endlessly witty to caption the following photo: fuckit, the sticker on the drumkit pretty much speaks for itself..YOUR MOTIVE FOR
This is Your Motive For. They are the masters of the well-crafted mid 90's Aussie indie pop-rock song, which either makes them a laughable anachronism or at least 5 years ahead of the curve. As such, comparisons in their sound could easily be made to You Am I, Augie March and a bunch of drunks trying to start a singalong at the pub at 3AM before the bouncers bring out the fire extinguishers to shoo them all away. This easily places them mere inches away from becoming the new soundtrack to a West End Draught or Tooheys ad. Of course I could go on and on about the music here, but we ALL know the main entertainment to be found in this band and that is hungover trainwreck that is Heath Weber. For throughout his gig he's often known to employ the fiendish power-rock move known simply as "the hair flick": sure it may resemble anywhere between a bad Fabio commercial (I can't believe it's not butter!) and a shaggy dog attempting to dry itself, but apparently I've been told on good authority that it's also an a-grade fangirl panty remover. Yeah, I don't quite get it either, but do you see ME cutting my hair short anytime soon? OOOOH FUCK NO!! (shit damn I gotta get my own band again!).BEFORE THE AFTERMATH
And now the final band for the night, Before the Aftermath. Picture in your head the following things: AC/DC blasted at full from a busted up boombox, a carton of beer, a brown Datsun with red flames and a naked chick painted on it, a whole stack of Meatloaf "Bat Out Of Hell" CD's (selling for $1 each at Crime Converters) all fading on the dashboard and a Friday night out in the Elizabeth Shopping Centre parking lot and that'd be just about a spot-on facsimile for what I experienced tonight. They're bogan as all fuck but DAMN do they still rock the fuck out! :)
With my brain happily liquified to a fine grey pulp by Before The Aftermath, I soon find myself in a lobotomised haze staring vacuously into the red lit foliage growing in the beer garden. I must've been here for hours on end, till Zac the psychic bartender eventually found me making weird squeaking noises whilst randomly chewing on the foliage and sent me on my way..
I initially made a quick stop-over at my usual haunt at the Cranka, but to my dismay I soon found my beloved crap-shack near empty and whistling a lonesome tune despite all of Fatboy Slum's attempts to whip the 8 people there on the dancefloor into a frenzy. Of course it really didn't take long to find where all the crowds went: turns out they were HERE at Jive making absolute twits of themselves to another fortnightly party by DJ Craig instead.
Understandably I have little or no recollection of the hours that followed: of anything (beyond an incoherant blur) I can only say for sure that an excessive amount of beer was involved, a particularly ill-advised trip to The Village for some 3AM chicken drumsticks and springrolls and me being kidnapped by these two strangely familiar idiots for more drunken food at Pizza Rev..
before pissing the last of the night away here at Supermild with an entirely different bunch of grinning fools than the geniuses I originally came here with (funny how that always happens), till I eventually collapse dead into the last late night bus home at 4:30AM..
and one wonders why I have nary a braincell left to write these blogs these days? What doesn't kill me makes me stronger.. what doesn't kill me makes me stronger.. hey look kids, it's my head in a jar and it's rolling down the hill into the circling drain below! WAaAHAHahAhAHA!! :)
(fuck I need a holiday)
Previously on Spoz's Rant: Booster + Dead Popes Of The Vatican