The Adelaide scene: to many of you it may 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 dysfunctional splendour, as we bring you the highly satirical, laughingly fictional and intellectually imbecile tales from our rock & roll wasteland...
LIVE REVIEW / THE VINES (****1/2) "FUTURE PRIMITIVE TOUR" @ THE GOVERNOR HINDMARSH / Friday September 9th 2011
Sooo...here I am on a Friday night, outside The Governor Hindmarsh, waiting in line for The Vines and a fartarse bunch of support band whatever-the-fucks. Only unlike everyone else all "giddy and exciteable" to be here (and perhaps a tad impatient to be stuck out here in the "freezing cold") I didn't buy a ticket; fuck, I wouldn't even know how much it was or through which outlet (Moshtix for $30-40 plus booking fee AND it's sold out? aaaah sweet ignorance!). And not because I scammed local supports The Sweet Decline on facebook late on a Wednesday/Thursday night hoping to bluff my way in; although that's how I'd usually run it; in fact they're even playing now in the "breakfast 8-8:30PM slot" (and I can kinda hear them waaay in the muffled distance with everyone else here blissfully oblivious that they're even ON the bill tonight; fuck yeaaah, living the dream!). Nope I'm here because I'm working, I shit you not. I received an email from one of my PR contacts Monday, offering up a doorspot (plus one) for anyone willing to offer up a "live review". And I accepted, NOT because I thought it'd be a mad scam, no...and here's the weird bit, I actually took it on because I thought it'd be a good assignment. ME!? I'm kidding right? WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS SHIT!? You see I'm no journalist, and I needn't tell you that (it's obvious to anyone who reads this crap). I'm no photographer, I don't own a DSLR; duuude I don't know squat on anything, at least not enough to fool anyone thinking I'm an "expert". I mean c'mon, I'M A JOKE!! this blog is a joke! It's why I started it in the first place...I was sick and tired of everyone asking me what I did on the weekend so I figured I'd write a blog about it so they'd STOP asking; only I never really "did" anything so I figured it'd be hilariously sarcastic to make such a fullblown "epic production" out of it. I mean it's the Adelaide scene ferfucksake! what the fuck happens here? NOTHING!! who the fuck am I? WHO THE FUCK CARES!! I'm the last piss drinking imbecile who should ever be doing this, let alone have an audience! and yet here I am providing all this "scene coverage" like it's my JOB now!? Yup turns out the joke's increasingly on ME, because apparently this blog's like all weirdly "legitimate" now.
HA HA HA okaaay, stop laughing; or perhaps I'm the only one still...? because shit's only gradually dawned on me (and all the daunting responsibility along with it) that people out there are actually willing to take what I do "seriously"...or maybe they're seriously missing the point that it's a farce; except this ISN'T the first time I've ever worked on an "official" basis. Nope, that PR contact who doorlisted me tonight? (and likely having a chuckle over this...the fiend!) is the same who got me reviewing shows for The Drones, Philadelphia Grand Jury and Bluejuice back in 2009 and Bedroom Philosopher in 2010. Or what about Spin Magazine when they got me covering Laneway Festival that one time? Yup! beats me how the fuck THAT happened or how I scored a "photo pit pass" with my dinky little camera!? (and I bet somebody SO got their arse fired for it too!) but it's true! same with Ball Park Music a little over a month ago. Every week, almost every day now, my blog cops a deluge of record label spam, press releases and the like because they all seem to think I actually know what I'm "doing" (and I really REALLY don't!). Most of which I'll then ignore because they just want one of those regurgitated mp3 blog "press releases" with a download link. But if they offer up doorlisting for a tour date in Adelaide? I'm like "fuck yeaaah...I'll take that on, it'll be hilarious!". Only tonight in agreeing to this assignment I ain't gonna be here for "laughs", I'm in no mood for jokes, I'm gonna be nothing but professional! or more accurately I'm gonna be nothing but sober because I checked on my ATM earlier tonight only to discover there was nothing in it...NOTHING (okay...there might've been $20 at least, but still!) and I've got a blog writeup still to finish from last Saturday night, I've barely slept a wink all week working on it, and as soon as I'm done here? I'm heading straight home, overdosing on caffeine and smashing the SHIT out of that keyboard, WITH MY TEETH!! and all of a sudden this is like a serious "thing" for me now? since when did this happen!? WHOAAA FUCK!! But hey there's no need to panic, I've bullshitted this enough times in the past for peeps to think it's legit to be more than qualified to fake it for real tonight. And who wouldn't wanna cover The Vines at the Governor Hindmarsh eh? eh!? EPIC AS FUCK YO!! Yup so I'm gonna go in, "get the job done" and get the fuck out before they even know what hit them!
And hey if there's one thing I've always taken seriously when it comes to this blog? yeaaah well, it's pretty much the ONLY thing I've ever put the effort into even when I'm laughably drunk rolling around the floor and the "live review" is naught but a blithering incomprehensible jumble of spastic expletives and me saying "DUUUDE" every second sentence like a retarded stoner, it's the photos. I mean you all know it, you've all seen it, and you've likely been wondering how in the FUCK I do it with a $300 "point and shoot" piece of crap like I'm some kinda ninja space wizard from the future (yeaaah I won't lie...it's mostly Photoshop) but what makes it even more hardcore serious tonight? like I knew I was totally doing this shit for reals!? was me rocking one of these: a "photo pit pass". HELL YEAAAS!! And believe me it made ALL THE DIFFERENCE IN THE WORLD TOO, especially here at The Governor Hindmarsh tonight, especially when there's no barrier front of the stage so all the photogs had to fend for themselves flailing in the mosh anyways? and yeah...okay, I admit it was pretty much useless but screw it: it was blue it was shiny and I wanted it; I'M FREAKING LEGIT YO!! and oh waiiit wasn't our opening act meant to be on already? yeah, yeah okay perhaps we'll get back to this point later (because I swear it'll be totally relevant) but first? the business at hand...
THE SWEET DECLINE - Except *ooops* if we were actually paying attention here (who, me!?) we'd know they already played,and almost none of you saw them (can we get a "HELL YEAAAH!?") and yes this would usually be the opportune moment for me to crack more jokes at their expense; only I did that in the intro already (and again just now) and to be honest I'm fucking exhausted, over caffeinated, broke as hell, gunning for ultraviolence here and I seriously don't have time for this shit *ahem* in short they're The Sweet Decline, yes they're way better than I give them credit for and yes I'm kinda bummed I missed their set. They've got a new bass player Andrew Marshall (20th Century Graduates) to replace their interim/original bass player Shane Brown who replaced their other bass player Jon "Tramapoline!" Wignall after he ditched Adelaide for Melbourne back in June (only he forgot to tell the band when they were due to play Rocket Bar the following week) and aaaah what the hell here's a photo of their drummer Lee Kennedy's drumkit...shiny isn't it?
BLEEDING KNEES CLUB (***) - Which brings us to our second act; or the first for many of us who were waiting in line for the past 10-20 odd minutes to get in (nooo shit, it's like The Vines are like a big name band or something? weird!). Yup apparently they're from the Gold Coast, they just got signed up to a US label IAMSOUND Records and all of which I've been blissfully oblivious to as short of a tad bit of "name recognition" (they played Ed Castle back in February?) and that one song of theirs that's been thrashed to death on Triple J: "Bad Guys" (yeaaah you know the one) I've pretty much had them confused for Black Lips or Wavves...as in they've got a near identical skeezy hard and fast retardarse "garage" sound with all the shrill screaming and buzzing guitars. Which pretty much makes them near identical to every OTHER garage band that's been ripping off either Black Lips or Wavves of late (I swear that shit's the new Vampire Weekend for plaguirism) unless they haven't...I mean let's not sell them to the "scrapheap" just yet: maybe they've been tapping into all manner of ridiculously awesome obscurearse 60's surf bands and I'm nowhere near "educated enough" to appreciate the subtleties? yeah fuck it...I still prefer the SHIT out of this to any Ezra Koenig wannabe, indie disco, Ed Banger, 80's trash we've been bombarded with in recent years (duuude I so wish I was drunk right now!). Suffice to say, as much as every song pretty much sounds like the same 2-3 minute screaming blast of white noise and the lyrics consist of little more than "I just wanna have fun!" chanted over and over in a spastic loop? (and I dare say they won't be winning any critics awards for it anytime soon) for what they surely lack in musicality, they more than make up for in batshit enthusiasm. Duuude, they're an absolute riot! Like two shaggy dogs drying themselves, shrieking and flailing about all giddy and exciteable on stage, cracking jokes between songs, laughing it up like mad stoners and constantly trading quips with the crowd: "hey I like your hair colour! it reminds me of a lollipop...oh sorry for embarassing you!"; no really despite how dopey you might think their music is? (and how!) they'll still win you over with the goofyarse energy in which they perform it. Bleeding Knees Club. Yup they won't be finding their tunes on my ipod anytime soon; but with a "live buzz" like this they're welcome to party with us any 'ol time!
PAPA VS PRETTY (****) - Which then brings us to our third act: who quite like our second I've been a teeny bit guilty of feigning disinterest/ignorance of in all of their Triple J high rotation; as much as I'll readily admit I barely listen to an hour or more of our "youth broadcaster" as it IS before some skullraping abomination like Skrillex or some paint by numbers Aussie hiphop ode to who really gives a crap or that Luke Million "Arnold" song comes along "and oh suuure it was funny the first time BUT DO YOU HAVE TO KEEP ON THRASHING IT, YOU SHIT FISTING DICKCLOWNS!!"; at which point I'll then switch over to my ipod before I have the serious insane urge to chew out my radio or until all the "hysterical screaming" in my head stops...aaaah Triple J, what's not to love!? (and yet every day I keep coming back for more!? HA HA HA aaawesome!). But even so I couldn't help but feel weirdly nostalgic for this band when I first heard them tonight, like it was a Pavlovian response, like I was practically singing the words to every song of their set with a cheesyarse grin; despite my increasing allergy to all things Triple J high rotation; despite me swearing blind to you now that I seriously didn't know who the fuck they were until tonight...and yet Papa Vs Pretty from Sydney are JUST that kind of band. And the reason why? is because they pen anthems. As in every one of their songs is a heartfelt fist in the air "FUCK YEAAAH!!" and you waking up disoriented in a ditch the the next day wondering who's army you've just joined or why you're currently waging a war with a super intelligent insectoid species from the other side of the galaxy (what, has no one seen Starship Troopers?) I mean they're simply the PUNCHIEST damn shit you've ever heard. More so they don't just perform these anthems "live" tonight: as they thrash the still beating shit out of them, stuff them full of Chinese firecrackers, light the fuse and make those mad fuckers explode all over the stage with a fanatical fury unmatched by all but the most hyperactive of emo bands (especially with the ridiculously loud live mix they've got tonight) as much as they're more a "power pop" vibe than anything else. I mean from first impressions they kinda remind me of Jeff Buckley; especially in singer Tom Rawle's soaring delivery (duuude he's absolutely killing it!) but more his vocals fronting a lean and mean version of Muse; with perhaps a little Incubus too; as much as they also seem to sit in that ambiguous midway point between the home grown sound of Children Collide, Grinspoon and British India; only not so "punch drunk bogan", perhaps more Americana (and in parts they maybe a bit "middle of the road" and over polished? but fuck damn it's catchy!). Either way they're definitely selling it for all its worth tonight, ripping into song after song: with the first half of their set practically an A-Z best of in songs you never knew you knew so well, killing it like no nonsense professionals, like they're practically coin operated it's that eerily accurate note for note. Tom shredding the shit out of the guitar solos, Gus Gardiner and Tom Myers on bass and drums a few shades short of literally mad pinging off the walls; barely a moment's pause for breath or banter in between and delivering nothing but the "business" in slaughtering all four walls, floor to ceiling of The Governor Hindmarsh? Yup that's Papa Vs Pretty, and the next time I hear them on Triple J I won't be switching them off in a hurry; hell...I might even turn them up loud.
Now obviously our headlining act needs no introduction. NO INTRODUCTION. For almost ten years, five albums and four versions of "Autumn Shade" (no really what the fuck is up with that shit!?) this Sydneyside band has been nothing short of living legends Australia-wide and around the world. Legends of what exactly...? yeaaah we're not entirely too sure sometimes, as much as we DO know it mostly revolves around their lead singer Craig Nicholls; to the point we're hard pressed to name any other members of the band (aaaah fuck I dunno...two of them wear hats?); and obviously I needn't explain WHY...only that people have been increasingly hush hush over the particulars. And look I get it, I really do! we're meant to be all "sensitive" and understanding here because it's an actual diagnosed condition he's got, and it's awesome he's being treated for it (word in the crowd tonight is he's on a new "medication" and he's doing fiiine!) and this latest album they're touring "Future Primitive" is totally being touted as their triumphant comeback (by their record label), and everything's on the up and up (no really maaan! unlike all the other before it THEY TOTALLY MEAN IT THIS TIME!!) oh no let's get genuinely excited now: "yay The Vines are back!". But what many may politely tiptoe around now, or worse still brush under the carpet, I'd much rather celebrate the riotous fuck out of. And I'm not being sarcastic here; no, no! this is genuine bona fide admiration! I FUCKING LOVE THIS GUY!! Craig Nicholls: the madman, the shrieking loon, that giddy eccentric and overgrown child, that esoteric freefloating spacebeing possibly not of this Earth or dimension that makes all our other personalities seem so hideously beige! duuude he is EVERY reason why I keep writing this blog to immortalise such spirited malfunctions to the mainstream so that future generations can look back and wonder WHY we didn't cast statues in their likeness, or elect them as higher officials or heads of state...FUUUCK!! I mean we all like to say we're here for the band, for the songs; and granted The Vines have cooked up some classics in their time (and I needn't name them, as much as most of them were off the first record *ahem*) but we all know why we're REALLY HERE. We secretly silently hope that maybe, just maaaybe he'll do something completely batshit insane and we'll be firsthand witnesses to a moment in history. Or for me personally? I like to cite two such incidences as "inspiration". The first is their infamous appearance on the Late Show with Dave Letterman back in 2002. And as for WHY it's so infamous? well, just watch and enjoy...
The second was the night they last headlined a show in Adelaide; back in November 2008 I believe (also at The Governor Hindmarsh). And no I didn't go, I was at Rocket Bar for some asinine reason "WHAaAT are you kidding me!? Clue To Kalo rocked the shit out of that night AND YOU KNOW IT!!" *ahem* yeaaah clearly I picked the wrong show but I DID cross paths with the infamous frontman later that night when we both ended up at The Ed Castle. Now I won't go into "details" obviously: suffice to say Lady Strangelove were DJing by the bar, all manner of "wackiness ensued", HA HA HA DUDE DID IT EVER, WOOOO!! *ahem* and yeah maybe you're just better off reading the original (possibly partially "fictionalised") transcript. But at the very least? it was definitely an experience...
The point is we were all expecting "something to happen" tonight. That air of anticipation? was so damn thick not even a diamond tipped drill could make headway with it; which rather accurately described what I would've needed get to the front of stage too moments before their arrival just now but silly me I forgot to pack (or perhaps it was in my OTHER cargo pants?) yeaaah remember when I mentioned earlier that I was rocking one of those shit hot "photo pit pass" thingies? and how it was all too promptly made completely fucking useless by the fact there WAS no "photo pit"!? (ooooh still gonna brag about it though!) well let's just say shooting conditions were made even more comically dire the minute The Vines walked on stage. For as it turns out: the band, their lead singer (ambling onto stage with a still lit cigarette and shitcrazy "bedhair" with me half wondering if some chucklehead backstage had spun him around a few times before letting him loose) duuude, THEY WERE THE LEAST OF OUR TROUBLES. Craig Nicholls, that guy with the hat, that OTHER guy with the hat!? you almost forgot they were there. No the real "star attraction" of this show: to the point it practically overshadowed everything else we experienced, lost in an apocalyptic shitstorm of punching fists, pinprick pupils and gnashing teeth? was a crowd way too insanely overexcited to be here...and not at all shy about punching our spleens clean through a wall or ceiling laughing like madcap children in "expressing it". Oh they were a joy lemme tell you! And you try and be focused, and you try to be "professional" and you're here to take photos standing shoulder to shoulder with your "brothers and sisters in arms" working for the likes of Fasterlouder, Rip It Up, dB, Tone Deaf (and whoever the fuck that "badjonni" is working for this week) and you can't help but be inspired! like you're part of something "bigger", YES WE ARE PHOTO JOURNALISTS DAMNIT!! (and we're all point-blank poised to shoot the shit of Craig Nicholls the minute he sneezes too...squeeee!) and then the minute they hit that first note of "Future Primitive"? all that, most of your teeth, limbs and internal organs go flying out the window...HA HA HA DUUUDE, IT WAS FUCKING INTENSE!! and yes I'm saying this AFTER I cheated death with Coerce and Robotosaurus at The Crown & Anchor last week (and that was no teddy bear's picnic either!). Yup with no hint of "hyperbole" I SWEAR...I saw my own death staring back at me: it had many faces, many fists, it somewhat akin to participating in a kung fu tournament against a cyclone of cinderblocks...and it's by no small mercy, or twist of fate or good fortune that I speak to you now not breathing through a straw, upto my nips crawling with ants, or packed into several neat boxes labelled "miscellaneous" in the back of a freezer van; wow, no really...just plain FUCKING WOW!! Which is made all the more comical by the fact that Craig Nicholls was calmly and politely suggesting everyone chill the fuck out WHILE all this insanity was exploding around us. Like for instance, between each song he'd do his best to suggest more peaceful alternatives: "hey maybe you could jump up and down on the spot...c'mon it'll be fun!". He'd shake hands with the front row like he was making a gentleman's agreement with them all in that neither party would savagely murder the other and wear their skins giggling like schoolgirls. He was verily the voice of reason. Yes, Craig Nicholls: THE VOICE OF REASON...no seriously, it feels weird just typing that. And how did the crowd react in kind? well naturally they laughed themselves silly, punched each other senseless, lurched violently back and forth as one surging wave, hooted like mad baboons surfing it, spat the occassionally crash test dummy flailing onto stage (only to be promptly bum rushed off again by security) oh and did I mention there were strobes too? SHIT YEAAAH STROBES!! How I ever managed to get photos? I do not know. Why I wasn't cowering in a corner but instead surged ever forward in search of better angles? yeaaah I guess I wasn't thinking in terms of "self preservation" but that's The Vines duuude. Granted they weren't the most life threatening situation I've ever shot my way out of but they're still mad contenders for a "top 20".
Now...if after reading all the above insanity you're now wondering: "no really dickwad, WHERE'S THE FUCKING REVIEW!?" well obviously you weren't paying attention were you!? to the fact that I was taking photos throughout all that...or at least doing my darndest to achieve something vaguely in that "ballpark vicinity" (because yes I'll be the first to admit I got infinitely better shots with both Bleeding Knees Club and Papa Vs Pretty) whilst simultaneously doing my best to avoid being torn limb from limb (while my testicles proceed to be aerosol shat out of my ears?) all in "good clean fun" granted; but still an outcome I'd prefer to avoid. Yup the fact is I'm a "photographer" first and foremost, I prioritise that above all else. Me paying attention to any of the actual performance to pass judgement, make witty observations or document any of the "finer details" in regards to any intricate chord changes, use of unconventional time signatures or impromptu glockenspiel action (happens more often than you might think) usually comes second. With a crowd like tonight? more like a distant fourth or fifth. So if you really require more indepth analysis of the show? read THIS review instead. But at the very least...I can offer you this setlist: procured through no mean feat too I might add (ie: mostly thanks to someone...I THINK from Fourwords flapping his arms about hysterically till one finally made an appearance). Highlights for me were definitely "Get Free" and "Outtathaway" from the first album; made even more surreal in experiencing first hand, especially the latter (when for years I've only known that looney moshpit from the music video, now imagine diving into that for real). Also worth noting...isn't so much how WELL the band performed this show tonight (and they certainly didn't balls it) or how weirdly well mannered their lead singer looked in fronting it (shit even the guitar he "trashed" at the end seemed carefully choreographed) as much as you also sense that when he's singing? English is a second, third or even fifth language in the "spaced out" way he delivers it tongue half hanging out; no it's more in just how grateful the band appears to be STILL playing shows, in still being a "band", in still entertaining crowds that still dig what they do. There was no arrogance here, no larger than life "rock star" personas...just relief in a job well done. And as much as I was gagging for a "trainwreck" like everyone else? and I leave maybe a tad "disappointed" it went without "incident"? yeaaah I'm kinda relieved for them too.
12:23AM - As such...as they were in such "ridiculously high spirits"? after three encores ending in "Fuck The World" and much rapturous applause (and aforementioned guitar trashings to boot?) Craig Nicholls then casually mentions that the band will be hanging out afterwards if anyone wants to say "hi", perhaps have a chat, maybe go out a coffee sometime...you know if we're not doing anything; PLEASE BE OUR FRIENDS!! *ahem* yeaaah okay maybe they didn't say all those things, but I did kinda get the impression. Either way? fuck it...I considered (at least for a moment) taking them up on that offer; until I remembered what happened LAST TIME, took one look at the flock of seagulls descending on them iphones at the ready, and then...yeaaah I thought better of it.
1:37AM - Now originally I was gonna head straight home after the show and I was even planning on catching the last midnight bus to speed me along the way; I mean my work here is done right? and the sooner I get home and deal with that writeup from last week (that I still hadn't finished) and all the photo editing from tonight and video uploads and chase up all that pesky advertising revenue to finance the following week and blah-di-blah fucking bla...no really did I mention I was flat broke? and I'd barely slept all week caffeinated out of my skull working nonstop day and night on this fucking blog? who's sole purpose must be to drive me completely fucking insane, insane I tells you! INSANE!! AAAAHAHaHAhaHAhAhaHAHaHA WOOOO!! *ahem* or at least that's what I was thinking (possibly half hysterical yammering out of my mind just now) until I was interrupted by Trent Worley from Isle Of Vision offering to shout me a beer, which turns out was all the "reason" I needed to forget all the above shit, only to laugh it up loitering here in the front bar until well after closing. And hey, do you ever need any more mad reasons than beer!? OF COURSE YOU DON'T...
Or at least until Trent provided us with one anyways when he picked up a ukulele and just for the hilarious fuck of it started playing THIS. Call it what you will...even cheesily sentimental but even so? easily the best live performance I'd heard all night (and I dare any one of you to disagree).
2:25AM - And then after two beers; no wait three if I'm counting the one fellow photographer Haley shouted me earlier in the night after I snuck her in the door as my "plus one" (and hey it did kill that headache between bands three and four...so no less welcome!) I then went home. Or perhaps I walked a full twenty minutes or so into town, to The Ed Castle, only to realise there was no real point being there if I wasn't drinking (no kidding!), only to head to Supermild soon after, where I downed two glasses of water, only to realise that was even sillier...and THEN I went home.
Hmmm yup, so what do we conclude after all this? that we now live in a world where Craig Nicholls is sane and "everyone ELSE is crazy"? possibly! and I for one am wildly excited by this recent turn of events. That I seriously need to get hideously, hilariously, skull rapingly retarded drunk as soon as inhumanely possible if I know what's good for me because the fact I did most of this night sober (then went home early) was disturbing to say the least? FUUUCK DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED. But more so, no matter how screwball "respectable" this blog becomes in garnering all manner of label support, mad legitimacy and journalistic integrity (!?) as a bona-fide source on the Adelaide music scene from those of you who really should know better..."HA HA HA you fools!" I should never, I repeat EVER take this shit too "seriously". Because if I ever do that? then duuude, it's all over!
