TONY FONT SHOW + SUPERBEE + THE STEADY ONSLIVE @ THE CROWN & ANCHOR / Saturday January 26th 2008
Australia Day. Invasion Day. The birth of the nation. The death of 600 old ones. That one day of the year for all proud citizens of this wide brown land to raise our flag poles sky high, shoot off those fireworks and drink ourselves retarded to an orgiastic feast of burnt flesh and braincells. Yup, just like every other damn day of the year! the natives taught us well (pity we killed most of them). Australia, where everyone is free to make fun of the immigrants (especially the poms), whittling away all cultural differences till we're nothing but the same burping homogenous hole in the ground. Australia, drink deep the glory that is our proud heritage! Of cricket and aussie rules. Of burning rubber and ozone holes. Of golden lands and amber seas. Alcoholism and apathy. Tall poppies and dope seeds. Redbacks and blue rings. And when those dominoes fall, natural selection will bleach our bones clean and make heroes of us all! Australia, we're our own entire fucking continent! We're girt by sea! What isn't there to love? Australia? FUCK YEAH!!
So where better to celebrate everything that's great about our nation but here? where everything great goes to die! YES! The Crown & Anchor! Absolutely pumping to the four walls on a Saturday night! Look at all the excitement on these people's faces! Auuuustralians all let us rejoice for we are.. um.. shit.. how does the rest of it go? *burp* arrr fuck this, I need a beer!
THE STEADY ONS (**1/2)
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First band of the night are so damn full of Aussie spirit, they make my eyes bleed. And since they're so full of Aussie spirit, likely their liver's will bleed out from all the spirits and they'll collapse wide eyed and grinning before the stroke of 12. The Steady Ons. Like a bastard pub jam of The Rolling Stones, Velvet Revolver and the whitest funk boy moments of Red Hot Chili Pepper's "Stadium Arcadium" swirled into a jangling delivery that hammers like every Vietnam movie cliche at once into our shell shocked skulls. The Steady Ons, part of the great Adelaide acne invasion in retro rock that's spawning such volatile tweenies as The Temps and Granny Flat. They're like watching a newborn giraffe attempting to walk but the potential is there in the foldbacks. Destined for greatness or destined to grate on our nerves? It's too early to tell..
SUPERBEE (****1/2)
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Not to be confused with the bleedingly obvious premise for the next Pixar/Dreamworks movie, SuperBee are also not to be confused with anything even remotely resembling a microscopic buzzing gnat that vomits out toast spread. Oh no, not a bee, not even a super bee the size of an Airbus A380 could cause THIS much mass destruction! Catching this band in full flight is more like witnessing a herd of cows being stuffed into one of those trash compactors that crushes cars into cubes before being shot into space over and over like a rapid fire steaming steak cannon. They are the screaming skyscraper fists of meat. They are fireballs the size of elephants raining down over the Californian desert. They ARE the sixth extinction. And say if by chance, in an alternative reality, Chris Cornell hardened the fuck up and reformed Soundgarden with extra members from Soulfly and Metallica instead of squirting out those pissy little Audioslave albums, then they'd still barely headbutt the fusion reactor that is SuperBee. Oh yes! Beat your head into the wall till there's nothing but neck and raise those horns up high, we have your apocalypse!
TONY FONT SHOW (****)
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Instead of giving you yet ANOTHER Tony Font Show review (surely you've read a billion of those by now). I shall instead devote this space to the genius that is Lee Cowan, with his inspired lyrics to the song "Candyman" off their Secret Steps EP: "I'm a sleek sexual thief. The kind you wanted to believe. I put the candy in your whack and fuck the cavity. Then came Marie I set her free. Then go linking a sin with apology has sunk in like a set of teeth. Addictive would you call me? They'll do the weed they'll do the speed. And this weekend... I'll do the weed with 'em. I'll do the speed with 'em. A deep belief with 'em. Or so it seems I'm with 'em. Lose your kids and then you will find out what it's like to lose your life and then you will find out what it's like to be me. I'm a sleek holy Mohican freak. I hang out by the creek and feel the water running through and out my two webbed feet. You will believe monstrosity. Then go linking a sin with apology has sunk in like I'm seventeen. Addictive whatcha call me? I'll do the weed. I'll do the speed. And this weekend... take me downtown where you been hoe? Got a pocket full of sin yo and time to grieve. Take her home and make her moan yo this homes ain't going solo. Cos I believe... that apparently there are chicks begging for release. Leading unsanitary to all conditions of this mandatory sodomy. Now me I tend to disagree I say let's fuck for free, and in the end just for a friend why wouldn't you bleed." *cough* Oh yes, there's no OFF position on this genius switch!
1:11AM - Feeling suitably inspired, I take an opportune moment after the gig for some quiet drinks discussing the finer points of these lyrics with the many intellectuals I find outside..
1:23AM - For reasons unbeknownst, a large novelty pirate hat soon makes an appearance..
Although it's clearly working more wonders on Ezza here than it does on me.. Arrrrrrr!
1:31AM - And of course, everything rapidly goes to shit the minute the parrot turns up..
2:06AM - Yup, I don't know what it IS about the Cranka and it's uncanny ability to draw upon the lowest gurgling dredges of the evolutionary scale (I know it sure as fuck triples the crowds to a Tony Font Show gig) but clearly, even the smallest room in this establishment will not provide me with relief. As, in my attempt to flee the parrot for a brief tinkle, I'm instead ambushed by Dick Dale from Kamikaze, doing um.. whatever the fuck his drunkarse is trying to achieve here?
Oh, and when he's not busily terrorising the streets of Adelaide's favourite punk band or running Australia's finest touring shlock-cinema event
Trasharama, word on the street is that Dick Dale, blitheringly drunk pee target to the masses, also moonlights as a termite mascot.. freaaaky!
2:33AM - Suitably horrified by all that the Cranka's performing freakshow had to offer this night (short of three cop cars and an ambulance), I take the journey west to Enigma Bar..
A journey cut altogether too short when to my horror I discover another gaptoothed wingnut wearing the exact same t-shirt as me. Since I clearly possess the wrong gender to have an intelligent response to such a fashion faux-pas (ie: beating them to death with the pointy end of a stiletto), I took this photo instead. Moments later, I then bump into a second arsehat also wearing the same t-shirt. In the attempt to explain how funny this was, I then bump into a third. Damn. perhaps this'll teach me to buy novelty t-shirts from fucking Jay Jays..
3:09AM - So in effort to avoid inadvertantly starting a themed pubcrawl, I duck next door to Jive instead, for DJ Craig's fortnightly wastoid banging indie and packed out dancefloors..
3:20AM - It doesn't take long for the usual suspects to throw themselves like lemmings me..
Including (clockwise left) these two twats from Tyger Tyger (with one oddly familiar pirate hat) and one grinning dweeb from Swords, still trying to live it up large from last week..
4:20AM - and of course everyone's sure sign to get the fuck out've dodge, when this
Corey Delaney clone (sans spastic sunnies) is spotted clearing out the dancefloor in record time (but don't worry, I'm sure over 500 of his myspaz buddies are partying back at his house)..
and if you thought THAT was fucked up? THIS is what I woke up to the next day. Ouch!
What the hell does any of this have to do with Australia Day you may ask? Who the hell knows!? That's the great thing about this nation: everyone wants to live here, nobody has a fucking clue!
Previously on Spoz's Rant:
The Dardanelles + Bakewell Street + Sidewalks 
