The Adelaide music scene: to many of you it might be little more than a touring speed bump between Melbourne and Perth but to us it's a way of life. Feast within, on all its dysfunctioning splendour, as we bring you the highly satirical, laughingly fictional and intellectually imbecile tales from our rock & roll wasteland...
SOUTHPOOR + SPECIAL PATROL + TONY FONT SHOW LIVE @ THE GRACE EMILY + JIVE / Saturday May 17th 2008
Saturday night? oooh maaan is it good to see YOU! you should've seen the shit your buddy Friday night dumped on me: seven live acts from indie, rock, electro, hiphop and back again, a flood of human traffic in attendance, one and a half bottles of red, eight or nine of pale ale, two cans of redbull, one cheese platter, one sleepless night (not to mention one hell of a hangover this afternoon) and I don't know how the hell I got out've there alive! Aaaaah but that's why I like you Saturday night: you're the well earned rest I deserve! I mean shit, nothing ever happens when you're around riiiight? this is Adelaide we're talking about! We're the serial killer capital of the world! If they haven't knocked off every one of us and dumped our bodies face down in the River Torrens by now; then all our kamikaze motorists, rock throwers and Gouger Street gangbangers are sure to finish the job! yeeeHOO!! Here's to Saturday nights and doing fuckall but putting our feet up and getting us some down time.. wait.. what? I'm getting you confused with Sunday night? there's still thirteen more live acts spread across two venues tonight? and you think I'm crazy enough to accept this suicide mission? Awww shit, heeere we go again! Yup, let it not be said that this sleepy city of one million is ever lacking in trouble and the places to find it; for this weekend we're damn near up to our armpits and gargling in it!
7:58PM - Still, no impossible mission in the mean streets of Adelaide's live music scene is ever complete without a solid meal to kick off proceedings (especially when faced with yet another early start tonight). So what better way to stuff myself retarded than another bit of misguided propaganda for the Ed Castle tonight (geez, you'd think I was on their payroll with all this shit I do for them), when I hit up their $10 dinner menu for a 350g rump steak served with sautee'd spinach, pepper gravy and some kinda blue cheese mash thingy!? WOWEEE! this may very well be the most awesome thing I've eaten all week! Let's hear it for corrupting the cause of live music journalism with Spoz's very own personal crusade for scamming free shit! YEAAS!
8:29PM - And before all you vegetarians, vegans and hindu's run screaming for the exit signs (mmmm you can almost taste the flavours through that photo!) it's off to my first venue of the night as I hit The Grace Emily for the Mixmaster Records Birthday show, featuring: Special Patrol, Booster, Southpoor, John Baker Duo, Cookie Baker, The Yearlings, Your Motive For and a whole fuckbucket of other fartarse singer songwriters and hillbilly grassroot jug bands most of you monkeys have never heard of before. Word on the street is they've already been packing the joint out to capacity since 6PM, so what better way to kill myself stupid than right here?
COOKIE BAKER (****) website :: First act for my night (or quite possibly fifth by Grace Emily's reckoning) is a goofyarse looking singer songwriter by the name of Cookie Baker. That's her there banging away on the keyboards on the left with her band. You may remember her from numerous gigs she's had at FAD Cafe. You may remember her as the support act for Kate Miller Heidke back in April 24th at The Gov. Or you may simply remember her freakingly oversized hairdo, that by hairspray content alone could fuel a midsized family sedan from here to the moon and back again. Aaaah yes, how could we possibly write a Cookie Baker review without mentioning it? The hair so large that Adelaide airport has to schedule all of it's flights around it. The hair so large that out've of all the man made structures viewable from space hers is the largest behind The Great Wall Of China and the Pyramids of Giza. Hair so large, small moons have been found orbiting around it. Hair so large, international terrorist groups frequently call in threats to blow it up. It's right up there with the Malls Balls as an Adelaide institution and we're witness to it all tonight! Cookie Baker. Forr those of you NOT otherwise hypnotised by her shitarse crazy coiffure; she sounds somewhat like a racier caberet version of Missy Higgins crossed with languid honkytonk twang of The Audreys. Sure, she may look like one of Tim Burton's most psychedelic suburban 60's acid flashbacks in the process; but damn can she and her ragtag bunch bang out one sweetarse tune!
8:58PM - Half an hour later and it's out the door and around the block for our next installment of live music here at Jive. As it plays host to a night of nights featuring: Tony Font Show, The Happy Endings, Tyger Tyger (and quite possibly that frizzy haired loon hovering near the door once I stop pointing this camera at him). Aaaah, can't you just but smell the excitement!?
TYGER TYGER (****1/2) myspace :: "What!? these idiots again!? and twice in one freaking weekend!? what the fuck maaan!?". Yup, not since Tony Font Show in 2006, Taught By Animals in 2007 (or Lady Strangelove any night of the week) have we witnessed such a serial offender to the live scene as these crapweasels in recent months. Tyger Tyger. And since I've already used up all my best jokes when I saw them last night; instead of aiming a hundred and one cheap shots in the direction of lead singer Travis (take your pick from David Spade, Jodie Foster, Link from Legend Of Zelda, puberty, his over inflated ego, "Travis is a whore!" or a whole kitchen sink of coked out child actors), let's go straight to the meat and potatoes (or in Travis' case, his LACK of meat and potatoes.. tee hee!). Tyger Tyger. In direct contrast to last night's awesome car wreckage in flailing hysterics; tonight they've opted for a laid back lounge set. Nothing but a a glass of red, a pint of beer and song after song of dick and fart gags as they entertain the fortunate few (ie: the 3-4 people who actually bothered to show up this early) with a coiled spring of ecclectic space jams and hammering odes to all things itching, burning and sexually transmitted. Sure it may've been freakishingly sober and oddly understated for Tyger Tyger, and I kinda missed all the stains they usually leave on the ceiling after the gig, but damn did these freaks thrash out one fuck of a set..
To think; if they had a crowd of screaming idiots out front to accompany this (just like they did LAST night), we'd be witness to a shiny moment of glory, but instead you're here stuck watching a piece of it on youtube and kicking yourself for missing it? Damn. Sucks to be you duuude..
THE HAPPY ENDINGS (***) myspace :: Picture if you will a farmer in a ute, a ute on a farm, a farm with a sheepdog, that ute doing burnouts on the farm with the farmer hooting and hollaring to the rising dust clouds, whilst a pub falls out've the sky flattening the dog, followed by an outdoor BBQ, a few kegs of West End Draught, some bikini girls and finally Shannon Noll being beaten to death with a blunt end of a shovel. Now imagine all that as an uplifting anthem for the National Party. Oh yes! welcome to The Happy Endings. They're everything that's entirely awesome about Matchbox 20 and Nickelback as performed by Keith Urban. They're everything you love about beef jerky, teenage pregnancy, chronic unemployment, spousal abuse, petrol sniffing, alcoholism and the drought. And they're every reason why I'm anywhere but here and FAST out that door! weeeeee!
YOUR MOTIVE FOR (****) myspace :: Which segue's rather neatly into act four tonight, as we return to The Grace Emily for the shambolic and blissfully alcoholic sounds of Your Motive For as fronted by the ridiciously shaggy haired Heath Weber, aka: Fat Cobain, Sam the Sheepdog, or Heath Urban. Thankfully, besides Heath's occassionally misguided detours into cheesy country and western territory (ie: anything from Ryan Adams to Bryan Adams), this is where the similarity ends. Your Motive For. They're the sounds of Augie March, You Am I, Thirsty Merc, Buffalo Tom and a chorus of pint glasses clinking and emptying, before rolling off the table and shattering on the floor below. They're the sounds of slurred words, impaired judgement, random hookups, curries, kebabs, skid marks all over the road and bringing your car to a gentle stop halfway through your backyard fence at 3AM, only to wake up the following day and wonder not only where your trousers got to but how exactly you managed to slam your car into the chimpanzee enclosure at the Adelaide Zoo. Oh yes! Your Motive for are all this and more to the twinkling sounds of your neurons dying one by one. They're the life and times of Homer J Simpson made poetic, they're a cliched corner pub singalong, they're a brewery's marketing wet dream and they're every reason why you'll be hitting the bar for another round. Your Motive For? *hic* I thinks I love yooooz!
As such, the following live video of their song "Mortality" is not recommended for anyone: whilst driving, flying, scuba diving, operating heavy machinery, pregnant, breast feeding, anyone under the age of 18 (pfft who are we kidding?), the nation of Islam or fuckit, pretty much anyone with a diagnosed alcoholic disorder. For the rest of you however, drink on up cause this one's on me!
TONY FONT SHOW (***1/2) myspace :: Which then leads us staggering blindly down back alleys, pissing on doorways and back to Jive for act five; Tony Font Show. Aaaah, how can we possibly forget Tony Font Show!? No really I ask you: aren't they on this stupid website every OTHER week!? Fuck! I'm almost considering renaming my site to "We're Tony Font Show, Who The Fuck Are You!?" and then THEY can write up all this junk each week. Yeah, that'd be a brilliant idea! nothing but lazy days in the sun whilst some other walking head injury falls victim to my letter bombs each week!? fuck yeah! Or at least it WAS a brilliant idea until I realised that none of these crap weasels actually possess a literacy level above that of a third grader. Damn. So, since I'm clearly not paying attention to anything they do on a live stage anymore, here's some fun facts about Tony Font Show you may not already know: (1) right up until the age of 8 (thanks to a mixup with an "umbilical cord") lead singer Lee was simply known as "Melanie", (2) Rich their guitarist managed to achieve 100% carbon neutrality between October 2005 and November 2006 by claiming to be clinically dead, (3) nine times out've ten that crazy homeless guy you find headfirst in a bin looking for empty cans is in actual fact Matt their bass player, (4) drummer Phil was replaced by Taylor Hawkins from the Foo Fighters for an entire month and NO ONE noticed, and (5) they're really called "Tany Fant Shaw" thanks to Lee mispelling their name on their APRA application..
But since everyone else has forgotten who Tony Font Show is, have been waiting a whole year for "Tany Fant Shaw" to show up again, and thus providing conclusive proof that nobody reads Rip It Up anymore (otherwise you would've seen the shiny full page they posted one week in advance); here's little a taste of what you missed tonight: captured on video for the first time in the history of Spoz's Rant (as finally there weren't a sixpack of dickheads in front of me diving into the speaker stacks). As we present the blinding awesomness that is "Bullhorny". Enjoy!
11:53PM - Yup, it may've been slim pickings at Jive tonight but I soon discovered just where all the drunks went instead; when I take a return trip back to the Grace Emily only to be ambushed by all these grinning idiots outside the front doors. Damn. And from the looks (and smells) of Sean Kemp's oversized armpit stains it appears I've just missed Booster's set too..
SPECIAL PATROL (****) myspace :: Still, there's no shortage of follow up acts to avalanche us here; as we're greeted with act six (or is that act nine by Grace Emily reckoning?). Special Patrol. As much as I could attempt to sum up this band with my slackarse thesaurus of throw-away band references (ie: lazy comparisons to The Shins, The Doves, Death Cab For Cutie and Coldplay's first album would easily suffice); walk into any share household a few weeks between a landlord inspections and you'll be sure to get a more accurate answer. They're the sounds of a beaten up old sofa you salvaged from "hard rubbish day" with the one busted chair leg that the dog sleeps on. They're the throw rugs you use to cover all the red wine, beer stains and cigarette burn from when you had that house warming party. They're the piles of moth eaten clothes left lying around the floor. They're the cracks in the plaster large enough to put a fist through. They're that old 80's television set with the dented coathanger aerial hooked up to a Super Nintendo system. And they're all those stolen street signs, stubbie holders, star wars figurines, bootleg DVDs, empty coke cans and water bottles you've since made bongs out of. Yup, if this be the soothing senior citizen sounds of a Sunday afternoon way too hungover to reach the remote, then this band is every reason why you'll be taking a sickie on the following Monday. Special Patrol? OOOH FUCK YEAAAH!
And tonight they're so blissfully shambolic (in THE live venue born to host them), that they've even forgot to bring their drummer along. Oh yes they're that many kinds of awesome! (and oh yes I was that many kinds of howlingly drunk when I took this live video too.. weeeeeee!).
SOUTHPOOR (****1/2) myspace :: And so, in effort to well and truly send this night spiralling into the gutter here's the seventh and final act for the night; Southpoor. Just as the name suggests, they're everything you'd come to expect from a band that mixes the kentucky fried sounds of The Kings Of Leon with Jet, AC/DC, The Rolling Stones and a fifth of Wild Turkey gargled, spit, lit and thrown as a molotov through a cop car's window. Southpoor. With a lead singer that looks for all the world like the whipping boy for Keith Richard's drug habit, a howling yokel straight out've the movie Deliverance on guitar, one shitarse crazy serial killer (moonlighting as a service station attendant) on drums and a surprise guest appearance by Alec Baldwin on bass; you've got a inebriate ensemble fit for any rough and tumble lynch mobbing, Nascar racetrack, pentacostal snake handling or travelling hillbilly freak show.. YAAHOOO! Southpoor. They're the product of years of cummilative lead poisoning, bad dental hygiene, bar brawls and inbreeding. They're a neighbourhood dispute in dole bludgers, rising garbage, falling real estate values and rusting car wrecks you'd find every week on A Current Affair; they're the smell of diesel fuel and burnt rubber; and they're just the sort've band you'd expect to marry your sister, fuck your mother, BBQ your dog, steal your liquor, crap in your bath tub, piss on your curtains, belch fire, burn down your house and then write an album all about it that'll go on to be a multi-platinum best seller. Oh yes! Southpoor. They may be doing their utmost to dilute the gene pool, but we're all the richer for it!
1:59AM - And now that we've effectively plunged the entire human race right back into the dark ages again, it's time I get the fuck out've this festive hellhole before these three hyenas out back jump my bones and leave nothing but a scattering of forensic and dental evidence for the cops to unearth weeks later in the bush somewhere. Just look at those beady eyes.. guuuuh!!
Yup, that's the end of another ridiculously overbloated Saturday night killing yet more braincells for the Adelaide music scene. Sure, I could've easily gone for several more paragraphs detailing my furthering exploits back at Jive, all the way down at Producers Bar, across the road to The Cranka, back again to Jive and all the alcohol abuse and hilarity in between; but without all the idiotic photographic evidence to back all it up, you ain't gonna get shit from me! So until next we meet, this is Spoz signing off for another week. Screw you guys, I'm going home! weeeee! :)