Title: Sex City Lovers
Artist: Moniters
Label: Independent / MGM Distribution
Released: 2 May 2011
In one word: Rousing

The debut six-track EP of Brisbane-based three-piece The Moniters gets off to a frenetic start with “Exit The System”, a song which at first sounds like Interpol or Editors on speed, goes decidedly Placebo-esque for the chorus, then tops it all off near the end with a tap-happy guitar solo which wouldn’t be far out of place on an Iron Maiden record!  So far, so awesome.

The pace slackens slightly for the next few tracks, but fortunately the quality remains.  To be sure, there’s no great ground being broken, but fans of the questionably-titled “post-punk” movement of the past ten-odd years – as spearheaded by the likes of The Killers, Kings Of Leon and Bloc Party – are likely to find plentiful appeal in the well-crafted and surprisingly “immediate” mini-soundscapes captured here.  There are times when they even remind one of some of the ORIGINAL wave of “new-wave” artists, including Australia’s very own Icehouse and The Church.

Things get a bit pacier again by the last track-and-a-bit, and then just like that it’s all over.  Which is perhaps my biggest criticism, I’m chuffed to report:  That it’s all over and done with a bit quick for my tastes, actually leaving yours truly pining for more!  Can’t say THAT about too many records these days, can ya?  Look forward to the first full-length, boys, but remember…short is still sweet, so only ten tracks, eleven at the outside, okay?  Ah, the 80′s…things were so much simpler back then…

© Michael Bowser, Music Vice

Internet links:
The Moniters

The Gig: Quiver
Where: Fortyfive Downstairs, Melbourne, Victoria, Australia
When: 26 February 2011
In One Word:  Perverse

Not exactly a “rock” show tonight – as you might expect from a gig in an art gallery/space – but a fascinating display of musical  prowess and perversity nonetheless.  And while I do have a passing familiarity with the work of German noise-meisters Einstürzende Neubauten, one of the avante-garde acts being “covered” tonight, I’d be lying through my teeth if I were to claim I knew much about this most-maligned of musical “genres” (though I have been on something of a John Zorn binge for the past year or so).  Film soundtracks are perhaps my greatest touchstone here, and if this evening’s “set” were to fulfil such a role, I’m glad to say it would be a very disturbing film indeed:  Lars Von Trier meets Frank Henenlotter, perhaps (okay, so I do watch an AWFUL lot of fucked-up FILMS)!

Eccentric highlights, in a set with no great shortage of such things, are the breathtakingly uncatchy inepti-pop of Shaggs song “My Pal Foot-Foot”, and the wilfully loopy Zappa-isms of Louis Andriessen’s “Worker’s Union” (which I honestly can’t see replacing the simple “1, 2, 3, 4…we don’t want your racist war”-style chants we Australians are more accustomed to)!

Scrap what I said earlier about this not really being a “rock” show:  Two words that come to mind to describe tonight’s entertainment are, perhaps, “dangerous” and “disquieting”.  Indeed, more than a few of the ensemble’s guests tonight wore, erm, “brave” expressions as they departed the venue or congratulated the musicians…and if that ain’t the true spirit of “rock” write large, I’ll be buggered if I know what is.

© Michael Bowser, Music Vice

Related internet links:
Fortyfive Downstairs

Title: Renegades
Artist: Feeder
Label: Big Teeth Music / Shock
Released: 4 March 2011 (Australia)
In one word: Agreeable

I’ll be honest, and say that what little Feeder I’d been exposed to before this album left me…not “cold” exactly, but let’s say a little underwhelmed.  And while new release Renegades certainly breaks no new ground – indeed, creates barely so much as a crack in the pavement as that metaphor goes – this is nonetheless very, very solid “rock” music which, at the least, safely deserves that tag…achievement enough in this day and age, where the most limp-dicked of vaguely guitar-oriented music somehow qualifies as such.

Feeder apparently started way back in the mid-ish 90′s, and some small concession to slicker-than-thou modern production values aside, it doesn’t sound like these boys have “musically matured” much since then…and thank fucking Christ for that.  If you like your guitars heavy in power chords and fuzzy feedback, whilst still retaining enough melodic smarts to never fully degenerate into radio-unfriendly noise, then chances are you’ll find more than enough to enjoy here:  An agreeable post-Muse take on “grunge” which ultimately reinvents precious little, but has absolutely no pretense to such lofty ambitions in the first place.  Could have done without the “This is the barcode” attempt at post-irony on the back of the cd case though, lads.

© Michael Bowser, Music Vice

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Title: Music-Life-Pain EP
Artist: The Havknotz
Label: Independent
Released: 21 January 2011
In one word: Mulekicker

I’ve been accused once or twice in my life of suffering from something of a “culture cringe” when it comes to Australian accents…and while the friend I’m thinking of refers mostly herein to my (perhaps unfair) prejudice towards Australian film, the same is also true when it comes to the subject of Australian hip-hop.  Somehow the thick, drawling tones of suburban “Aussie” blokes have never quite worked for me in a rap music context…so it’s with great relief that I put on this EP to find a world-class product which should, saints willing, find an audience well beyond the limited confines of the “barby”-lovin’ antipodean backyard.

Not only does the MC they call Losty rap it up with the best of ‘em, in an accent which is refreshingly roots-free, he’s found himself a partner-in-crime called Waza (gotta love them loopy hip-hop names) who knows that the funkiest beats ain’t shit without groovy-as-fuck basslines to back ‘em up.  Oh, and he contributes some rather nice (read: melodic) guitar and piano work too, proving himself quite the multi-instrumentalist in the space of the mere seven tracks on offer here.

With a bit of help from esteemed artists such as Midnight Oil drummer Rob Hirst, the sound the duo realises here is a neat consolidation between the older and newer “schools” of hip-hop, and a heavy dose of rock and metal stylings thrown into the mix does no harm either:  “Shock To The System”, for instance, giving firm nods of the head to both Rage Against The Machine and Fear Factory, with a result so effective one can pretty much forgive them for nicking a bit of the latter’s lyrical content in the bargain (and their suggestion to “blow up the Big Brother house” is surely a sentiment any reasonable listener can get behind)!

And yeah, okay, maybe the EP does go out on a bit of a bum note thanks to some of those aforementioned “drawl”-y Aussie hip-hoppers guesting on the final track, but on the whole this is a record which represents the best which the rap-rock hybrid has to offer:  It’s catchy, confident and kicks ass like a Mexican bandito who won’t take “slow” for an answer from his lazy mule.  With a bit of luck the future of Australian hip-hop may sound a bit more like this, and a bit LESS like Hilltop Hoods and their slack-jawed, ocker-ish ilk.  Word up, mofos.

© Michael Bowser, Music Vice

The Havknotz: Myspace

photo credit: Oh Darling Dearest

What the heck can one say about Scottish-cum-Melbournian thrash-punk band Urgent Blood?  Fucked if Michael Bowser knows…best leave most of the talking to deranged frontman Danny Crombie, a man who’s smashed a venue’s glass or two in his time…

So Mr Crombie, is it true these rumours I hear that you’re being deported from this grand land of Oz shortly?  What does this mean for the future of Urgent Blood, seeing since all the other members are, ahem, “legal” Australian citizens?

Okay, basically the deal is I can’t work in Australia and have no money left, so I have to go home.  This means Urgent Blood are essentially no more.  Though we’re physically unable to play together, we’re able to collaborate through the internet and we’ll all be doing new things really soon.  Feb 6th at Yah Yah’s is our very last show, I can’t stress that enough, I’m flying home less than 10 hours after we finish playing!

Whoa, all sounds very serious and daunting.  Will there be an execution squad awaiting you if you fail to board the aircraft?!

I think they’ll PAY for me to go!

Sounds like a good lark, I’d hold out for that then if I were you.  So, apart from causing all sorts of havoc in airports, I hear that your live shows are rather incendiary.  Have you been banned from any venues yet, or charged for damages to premises/property?

There’s been a lot of tea-bagging.  I once sat on a guy’s head and then someone dragged him across the room scraping his head off the floor, and I felt pretty bad about that.  We’ve also broken a fair few mikes…I reckon there’ll be some sound-guys that never want us back, but no venues yet.  We recently caused some trouble on the radio and said “cunt” a lot, so I don’t think we’re welcome back there.

That’s perfectly understandable…I find that word comes up a lot in polite, everyday conversation.  So to the as-yet uninitiated/unmolested, how would you describe the UB “sound”?

The description we usually give people is The Bronx meets Zeke meets Black Flag…so fast in parts, groovy in others and almost always LOUD!  If you really want to get into the ins and outs of it all, I reckon we’re a bit like some of the stuff released on Agipunk like L’Amico Di Martucci, La Piovra, Smart Cops or even US stuff like Los Crudos.  That’s not to say we only listen to punk stuff, which has been a general misconception about us!  I’m still hoping we get ’round to covering NWA at some point.

I hear you’ve been through quite a few different members in the band’s short-but-spectacular career.  Do tell more…

Technically we’ve been through 10 members, mostly due to us not being too picky and trying to move as quickly as possible!  We’ve had a crazy Kiwi that was too lazy to practice, two guys who’ve legally changed their names, a socially-inept drummer, an alcoholic American drummer who passed out mid-rehearsal, and we even tried a double-bass player at one point!  Our current bassist Rob joined 3 hours before he played 2 shows with us in the same night!  Currently we’ve got a perfect line-up with myself, Jamie and Rob, with Jake from Clowns filling in on drums…..it’s never been tighter.

You have a new 7-inch release imminent, I believe?

We aimed a few months ago to get a 7-inch out, and only just managed to get it out with time constraints.  We recorded it the last week of December with Jacob Munnery, who recorded our first EP, and we’re really happy with it.  The songs are a bit different to the first stuff, as there’s some more Jamie songs on it rather than the first record which was 80% me….a bit more musicianship perhaps!  Even with our time constraints and the fact we’re splitting up in a week or so, we’re still putting 100% into this band, this is what we’re passionate about and we’ll be doing the same thing one way or another in the future.  I’m really proud of what we’ve achieved with almost no support:  2 EPs, a residency, over 20 shows, 5 radio appearances, around 1000 stickers, 500 CDRs, a music video, and I’ve made a lot of great friends.

A final question, one which we always ask here at Music Vice:  Other than music, what vices would you care to share with us and the nice folk at home?

If I’m not working on music, I’m sitting around watching cartoons or making art.  I really have no life besides playing music.

© Michael Bowser, Music Vice

Urgent Blood play their final Australian show (and 2nd EP launch) on Sunday 6th February at Yah Yah’s, Melbourne, with electro-noise lunatics Death O’Connor as support.  It starts at 5pm and is FREE so there’s no excuses, unless of course you have a pre-existing appointment to change your granny’s colostomy bag that particular evening (photographic proof required, of course).

Urgent Blood’s brand new video for “Tram Pig”:

Related internet links:
Urgent Blood: www.urgentblood.com

The Gig: hed (p.e.) with The Havknotz
Where: The Corner Hotel, Melbourne, Victoria, Australia
When: 27 January 2011
In One Word:  Vigorous

I’ll confess right up that I’m none-too-familiar with the music of U.S. headliners (hed) p.e., but it would appear I’m the only one here tonight for whom such words can be said.  Opening act The Havknotz, from Sydney, are quick and wise enough to verbally acknowledge this fact, and by the end of their brief set only a small contingent of the audience still has the gall to chant the headliner’s name between songs.  The Havknotz put on a very persuasive show indeed for such relative newcomers to the rap-rock scene…and while the set is a little padded-out by unnecessarily long bass solos and such, what songs they do have are uniformly strong, and the sheer energy of the show distracts nicely from the fact that 75% of their sound is covered by a backing track (lifted from their impressive debut EP, which you can expect a review of in these very cyber-pages in the near future).

Hed Pe do indeed turn out to be an unknown quantity – I failed to recognise even one song they played tonight – but I’ll be damned if I didn’t lap up the whole set, irrespective.   More eclectic than the (ultimately repetitive) Korn, and immeasurably superior to the (frankly intolerable) likes of Linkin Park and Incubus, this is evidently one band which I missed back in the 90s which I maybe shouldn’t have.  Sure, they look a bit like a cross between Limp Bizkit  and Suicidal Tendencies, and at a pinch sound like a cross between the two…yet they manage to carve their own niche by swinging seamlessly between thrashy punk, groove-based metal, RATM-style rap-rock and even straight-up reggae.  To be sure, singer Jahred Gomes has a mightily impressive vocal range, which only becomes vaguely strained on a (mostly serviceable) cover of Bob Marley’s “No Woman No Cry” – okay, so I did recognise ONE song they played tonight! – and the musicians he shares the stage with are no slouches when it comes to knowin’ their chops, neither.  A band that both rocks and raps hard, but never without a hearty dose of soul.

Don’t chalk me up as a full-blown convert, but I now have some comprehension why so many in the audience tonight have an enthusiasm that stretches, at its most extreme, to hed (p.e.) tattoos; one of the few “nu-metal” era bands to healthily survive into the present, and it’s not hard to see why.  A highly enjoyable and satisfying night all ’round, methinks.

© Michael Bowser, Music Vice

Photos of (hed) p.e. and The Haveknotz at The Corner Hotel, Melbourne:

The Gig: That 1 Guy with Mr Percival
Where: The Corner Hotel, Melbourne, Victoria, Australia
When: 9 December 2010
In One Word: Wondrous

While I can’t confidently claim to know what Mr Percival is “all about”, having caught but one song of his set, I can safely attest that the man is the owner of an amazing voice (with soul to spare), a shed-load of effects pedals, a humbling sense of self-deprecating humour and at least one “Kick Ass” t-shirt, so he’s clearly a-okay in my book.  The age-old “one-man show” would appear to be the flavour of the evening then, as we soon enough roll around to…

That 1 Guy managed to impress me plenty on record recently – no mean feat, kids – but I now realise this is one act that truly needs to be experienced live to fully appreciate the sheer inspired lunacy of it all.  Anyone who knows me even half-well will tell you that I have a mental age barely equaling that of a fourteen year-old…yet this show was enough to transport yours truly into a state comparable to child-like wonder.  That 1 Guy, or Mike Silverman when he’s at home, is what you basically get if you endow Peter Pan with shiny shoes, a Tom Waits-y hat and jaw-dropping musicianship, then ask him to play a home-made “instrument” which by and largely resembles a heavily cannibalised household vacuum cleaner.

I’ll confess to pondering early in the set if this dude was simply MIMING along to a backing track, so aurally dense and visually bizarre was the whole spectacle…but Mr Silverman promptly puts us in our places by clearly demonstrating how each of the sounds is made, and I for one stand firmly corrected.  Sure, about a quarter of the sounds we hear tonight are still pre-generated tracks to give him a solid base to work from, but the other three-quarters of this deliriously joyful racket – be it thumping percussion, slide-happy bass grooves, over-driven guitar-styled madness or violin-esque pomp – is produced right before our eyes, often requiring this musical mad scientist to employ the use of all four limbs at once (shame he ain’t an octopus; I’m sure he could emulate a whole damn ORCHESTRA if he were so endowed)!  Oh, and he frequently sings at the same time too, with a voice both eclectic and uniformly excellent.  He even performs a few suitably mystifying “magic” tricks here and there, just in case anyone in the audience isn’t bamboozled enough already.

What more can one say?  Unless you have some objection to grinning non-stop like a shit-eating bastard for a spare hour-and-a-half, you probably owe it yourself to catch this eccentric critter live before you catch something more, erm, fatal (ahem).  Now excuse me whilst I rummage through my closet looking for something suitably unlikely in search of the world’s next “magic pipe”…

© Michael Bowser, Music Vice

Pictures of That 1 Guy at The Corner Hotel, Melbourne:

The Gig: The Barons Of Tang (EP launch) with The Woohoo Revue
Where: East Brunswick Club, Melbourne, Victoria, Australia
When: 5 November 2010
In One Word: Rollicking

‘Tis a pity I arrive a little the worse for wear this evening – blimmin’ day jobs – and wearing but ONE of my world-famous dancin’ shoes.  For if ever there were a gig that screamed out for an orgy of shameless shin-diggery, this would be it.  And that’s just the last two bands (the ones which I manage to catch…my apologies to the earlier two acts)!

The Woohoo Revue sure know how to get a crowd hoppin’ with their relatively traditional, if exceptionally intense and highly spirited, take on the whole “gypsy-jazz” genre.  Unlike tonight’s headliners they never quite spill all the way over into “metal” or “punk” territory, but I’ll be damned if they don’t give you just as big a kick in the nuts with their fierce dynamics and dizzyingly energetic stage presence (kudos especially to the violinist herein, who could give any rock ‘n’ rollin’ “axe god” a fair run for their money).  A rollicking good time by any sane standards.

The Barons of Tang are a band whose name I’ve heard bandied about once or thrice before, and have for some time been on my “gotta check ‘em out one day” list…how fortuitous, then, that the clarinet player for a similarly-sensational outfit called Mamushka (whom I reviewed a ways back) just so happens to be in this band as well (as well as a couple of dozen other Melbourne acts, if a quick peek at the internet is to be believed…busy girl)!  Launching an EP tonight, and dubbing themselves “gypsy deathcore”, the Barons are what Mr Bungle may have been if they had less electric instruments and no Mike Patton:  Predominantly instrumental folk-jazz with generous dollops of other whacked-out genres such as metal, punk and “circus” music, all seamlessly blended together as if there were nothing remotely heretical about the notion at all.

As if this were not magnificent enough, they even have an upright bass-ist and piano accordion player – both splendid things, I’m sure you’ll agree – and a madwoman of a percussionist who, almost as an afterthought to an already sizzling show, comes centre-stage at the climax to show off a jazzy set of pipes that would make most supposed “frontpersons” in this town blush with embarrassment (a “secret weapon” for future development, perhaps?)!  And if there’s one thing that always warms my heart to its very cockles, it’s the sight of people moshing and crowd-surfing – the latter a practice I generally disdain – to music that would make most “rock” purists cringe.  Spec-fucking-tacular.

© Michael Bowser, Music Vice

Pictures of The Barons of Tang and The Woohoo Revue:

Related internet links:
The Barons of Tang
The Woohoo Revue

Title: Packs A Wallop!
Artist: That 1 Guy
Label: MGM / Pop Ten
Released: 6 November 2010 (Australia)
In one word: Gobsmacking

Okay, so it took me a merry while to get around to it, but I finally, “properly” checked out an artist I’ve been meaning to for some time.  So what do I make of That 1 Guy now that I’ve fully taken the plunge?  Well, allow me to be a tad lazy here and simply say that this is one very aptly named album, and then some!

In case you’ve had your head buried in wet cement of late, That 1 Guy is noted largely for the home-made instrument – his “magic pipe” – which allegedly is the sole source of his sounds, excluding his voice of course.  To which I can only say:  If this is indeed all true, I can’t friggin’ wait to see this guy live (good thing I’m on a guest list for the end of the year, eh?)!  But none of this would mean jack OR shit, especially on record, unless the music was actually worth listening to.  My humble opinion herein?  Well, let’s just say it’s a damn shame I don’t have three thumbs, ’cause if I did they’d all be way up in the air right now.

If you dig eccentric, experimental loonies a la Les Claypool, Tom Waits and Bob Log III – and do I even detect a smidgen of Andy Prieboy in there? – by way of a hearty layering of synths and synthetic beats alike, not to mention a bit of good ol’-fashioned garage-y rawk guitar (or guitar-like?) antics, then it’s safe to say you’re gonna have a good – nay, great – time here.  This album is just flat-out fucking Fun with a capital “F”, dagnabbit; as well-reflected by the lyrical content, which in touching upon some “serious” issues without ever taking itself too seriously brings to mind the aforementioned Mr Claypool’s peculiar genius.  Immediate stand-out track?  Bollocks, if I gotta choose one, and I know this’ll matter to some bastard out there (sigh)…probably “Laser Beans”, which starts off sounding like a certain well-known “indie”, girl-fronted song of recent years (you’ll know the one when you hear it) but quickly becomes a very different, though equally catchy, beast all its own.

My hat’s off to you, Mr. Silverman.  Blimmin’ awesome effort, son.

© Michael Bowser, Music Vice

Related internet links:

That 1 Guy

In the spirit of Movember, here’s a sample of some of That 1 Guy’s best tracks (from his last LP The Moon Is Disgusting):

Title: The Black Walls EP
Artist: The Black Walls
Label: Independent
Released: 20 September 2010
In one word: Snarling

Brisbane band The Black Walls are what I imagine Tool might sound like if:  a. there were more synths (always a plus in my book), b. they were a bit more “rock”-y, and c. they were actually GOOD.  And unlike the last two or three Tool albums which well-meaning friends saw fit to subject me to, this EP actually sounds like it was recorded by human beings (ie. “a band”), replete with all the charms – and charming flaws – which real-life humans can bring to this damn-fool nonsense we like to call “music”…as opposed to the uber-slick, ultra-modern production values which create albums which sound like someone pressed “Auto” on a computer program, and presto!  Instant record, with nary a glitch nor good (or even notably bad) “idea” in sight.  Not to say that this isn’t an impressively-produced piece of work – indeed it’s surprisingly so for an independent band’s first official release – but it’s still got a discernible heart thumping away under all them layers of buzzing synths, buzzsaw guitars and only occasionally “brutal” (praise be for that!) vocals.

Let’s all be grateful that there’s still a handful – okay, probably less – of ostensibly “heavy” bands out there who still know what a “rehearsal room” is, and The Black Walls appears to be one of them.  Certainly there’s some ambition towards the Tool school of super-slickness somewhere there, but this remains firmly grounded in a garage-friendly aesthetic wherein rock still meets roll and has a bit of a party…as especially evidenced in hands-down stand-out track “Green Lady”, a song with whopping great balls and a killer instinct to match.  Let’s hope that by the time these lads enter the studio for their first long-player they haven’t had all that primal rawk ‘n’ rawl instinct bled out of ‘em.  I mean, even Tool were half-listenable back when they were writing songs with grimy titles like “Prison Sex”, fer fuck’s sake.  There is an inkling of life in the battered and bruised body of the “heavy music” genre yet.

© Michael Bowser, Music Vice

Melbourne’s Errata are a rather, erm, “strange” band.  Stranger still is the fact that they chose to have an enigmatic figure calling himself “Henry Spencer” answer questions on their behalf…oh, and according to their Myspace, William Shatner is in the band too.  Read on at your own peril.

So, I hear you guys are about to release your second EP…or perhaps I should say, first “full” EP since your debut release was a split with Sleeper X?  For those of us who have that first release, in what ways should we expect this one to differ from the earlier EP (other than being longer, heh)?

We have this perpetually irritating tendency to constantly revise everything we do so that, hopefully, nothing sucks.  Mookie Singerman from Genghis Tron instilled the value of brutally tearing apart your own art in me years ago; their songs are fantastic, and you don’t argue with Mookie.  Both tracks that appeared on “Migrations & Mnemonics” make a reappearance on the EP (which is entitled “Cognac Al Dente”), but they’re so different as to be unrecognisable.  We got our Frankensteins to walk.

While I’m sure it’s old news for the band by now, tell us a bit about how the split disc with Sleeper X came about…and out of curiosity, is that band still alive and well?

A big Western Australian fan of ours actually suggested a split with them would be a great idea, and she turned out to be right (if not so right in the head).  Sleeper X were a very peculiar crew of guys from Perth who were somewhat destined to implode, so no, unfortunately they no longer make music together.  Some of their stuff still stands over at the Sleeper X Myspace and is well worth developing rabies over.  As a cool aside, one of the tracks we have up on Myspace, “In Medias Res”, is the opening track from the split and features both bands playing together.  Beforehand I got loaded and convinced myself I could rock the Indian flute.  It’s fucked.

At a fairly recent gig of yours that I attended your saxophonist was unfortunately absent, but am I to understand he will be gracing the new record with his presence?  And what great fortune led to his recruitment, was it a deliberate plan from the start or just sheer blind luck?

We treat our saxophonists like whores.  We have a regular, Adam, who is utterly amazing and was plums-deep in recording his brass for the EP…until some creatures of the night broke into his car and made off with his tenor and his alto.  Not to worry though, they’ll probably turn up in a Carlton pawn shop down the road, so he’ll be back to finish up eventually.  Ever since we heard the trumpet on Ephel Duath’s “The Painter’s Palette” back in the day, we wanted brass in our sound.  Ironically, they then decided they thought brass was shit and dropped it from their next record.  I hope we didn’t ruin their lives or anything.

I read in a blog on your Myspace that your original vocalist had some unfortunate accident at a gig, leaving him unable to continue with the band…please explain!  And is there any truth to the rumour that your current vocalist is in some way related to Adam Glynn, vocalist with Five Star Prison Cell?!

The enigmatic kb gomst (no capitals, please.  He is a very modest man) also moonlighted as quite a cultish underground noise artist when he wasn’t behind the mic for us.  One night at one of his ear-piercing solo shows – and I do mean ear-piercing, check out his terror at www.myspace.com/gomst – his foot managed to fall under a good few hundred kilograms of dropped gear.  He’s been effectively immobilised and subjected to constant surgery since February 2008, making it really difficult for him to even stand let alone drive.  Yes, our current mouth Mono is Hutch’s cousin; strange genius tends to boil over in that family. That and sexual dysfunction.

Speaking of your Myspace, it’s piss-funny to read…someone in the band clearly has a sense of humour?

I sometimes listen to the music we make and realise how indicative it is of the personalities behind it, which, I suppose, is both pleasingly honest and worrying.  Rehearsal room conversations regularly sound like a crowd of Arabic men dancing wildly, or so I’m told.  We’re not serious people, we’re actually quite ridiculous.  Our guitarist has an above-average memory and watches too much Futurama; our vocalist often dons this fucking Red Baron helmet he found somewhere and insists that he’s a pilot.

William Shatner.  Is he really, or has he ever been, a member of Errata?  C’mon, be honest now…

KHAAAN!  Our love for Big Willy Styles not withstanding, we’re pretty into leaving our names and faces out of things entirely.  The people are not important; the music is.  Ideally, you’d want your book to be judged by the merits of its narrative, not the past glories or infamy of its author.  Although when we play live we don’t wear masks or anything super-purposefully “mysterious” like that, which we probably should.  We’re quite unfortunate-looking things.

A quote from said Myspace:  “You hate jazz? You fear jazz.”  Is this the ultimate philosophy at the deep, dark heart of Errata, to terrorise “metal” audiences with the dreaded “j” word?!  And are any members of the band “trained” jazz musicians, or did you just teach yourselves?

The Mighty Boosh said it best.  Two of our lot are both bona fide educated jazz musicians, with our drummer even teaching professionally for a crust.  While it was always our intention to challenge the somewhat deflated metal status quo, it was never going to be with our astonishing knowledge of dead music, per se.  But…have you ever seen Charlie Mingus play?  He sweats, his face twists with meaningful rage, he screams at the engineer to turn his microphone up so he can get his damn demons flowing; for a long time, jazz was the anger of a people savagely oppressed because the human race, unfortunately, is not colour-blind.  It is so much more metal than metal could ever hope to be, but in its purest form we can’t do any justice to it.  We weren’t there, we don’t know those feelings; we’re relatively privileged Australians.  So we brought them together because, at their hearts, they have so much in common.  One wants to be what the other is.

The band lists none other than Herbie Hancock among your influences.  Does this mean we may one day expect a “Rockit” cover from Errata?  (I mean, if Dillinger can do a Justin Timberlake cover…)

It’s a future shock!  Woo!  Great album, I flick it on when I feel the need to shimmy.  The people in this band all listen to such amazingly disparate music we can actually never agree on a song we’d all be happy to cover.  One guy wants to do Living Colour, someone else wants to play eight minutes of progressive J-Pop whilst blowing into a large jug, a hand up the back thinks Opeth or Sikth are the greatest thing ever; the shit never ends.  We’ll probably just end up playing Napalm Death’s “You Suffer” and be done with it.

A final question, one which we always ask here at Music Vice:  Other than music, are there any current vices you’d care to share with us?

William Shatner.

© Michael Bowser, Music Vice

Errata play The Creepshow Halloween Festival at The Esplanade Hotel, Melbourne, on Saturday 30th October.  Be there or be…elsewhere.

Title: Interpol
Artist: Interpol
Label: Matador/Soft Limit
Released: 7 September 2010
In one word: Hmmm

What the..?  An almost “upbeat” Interpol album?  What next, a “goth” album from The Spice Girls?!  Dearie me.

Not that Interpol have only ever been purveyors of Doom ‘n’ Gloom:  They’ve certainly always had a “groovy” side, thanks mainly to funky-assed bassist Carlos D, a man who must have at least one Jah Wobble-era PiL album in his collection.  Carlos is already missing from the live shows, and apparently this is to be his final record with The ‘Pols (or should that be The Inter’s?), and as a nice little parting gift they’ve given him almost an entire album of rump-shakin’ beats and boppy toons to see him on his merry way.  Or perhaps this is the very reason he has parted ways with his former band members in the first place?  Perhaps he, like yours truly, asked himself the rather pressing question:  Since when the hell did Interpol become a freaking “party band”?!?

In all honesty, none of this would be such a problem if this were an album full of killer “death disco” numbers a la “Slow Hands”, “The Heinrich Maneuver” or “Evil”, but alas, there’s nothing quite so immediate here…nothing which demands so stubbornly to be danced to like a whirling dervish coked up to the eyeballs on Omo (or any other leading brand of washing powder).  A bit of polite nodding and/or toe-tapping is perhaps more the order of the day here, though the rather amiable “Barricade” does do its damndest to persuade otherwise.  When The Editors made their rather alarming switch to synth-pop on their last album, at least they went the whole hog and made a record which could easily have dropped onto turntables circa 1982, whereas Interpol’s effort here seems a little more tentative to say the least, ultimately producing a record which will probably be viewed retrospectively as an “in-between” or “transitional” album, or maybe just “the last one they did with Carlos”.

Am I saying I don’t like this album?  No, it’s enjoyable and interesting enough, and still bears many of the hallmarks of the (hopefully still) excellent band I fell in love with a few years back.  Will it “grow” on me with more listens?  Probably, sure.  Is it their weakest yet?  For my buck I’d say so, yeah…but it’d probably still make my Top 10 albums of the year, though certainly not Top 5.

On the whole this is a nice enough album…perhaps a little TOO nice, coming from a band formerly unashamed of showing its teeth.  Here’s hoping there’s darker times ahead for these lads, as they’re evidently enjoying life a bit too much at the moment and, ahem, appear to have lost much of the “lead” from their “pencils”.  More of that joyous MISERY, you bastards!  Best leave the elation-via-melancholia shtick to the bands who do it best, like Foals and The Killers…though full consolation points are in order for the seamless seagues between the final trilogy of songs (a rather nifty touch of older-school trickery which I failed to notice the first couple of listens)!

© Michael Bowser, Music Vice

Title: Found Things
Artist: Laneous & The Family Yah
Label: Birdfire Records (Australia)
Released: 1 October 2010
In one word: Groovy

Who was it said that Motown is dead?  It sure as heck ain’t in Laneous & The Family Yah’s neck-of-the-woods.  Nor, it seems, is Zappa, or older-school rap, or upon occasion a bit of good old-fashioned rawk ‘n’ roll or playfully punky shout-a-longs.  Throw in a few more “contemporary” ingredients, such as Aussie hip-hop and the more tasteful end of the modern “r’n'b” sound, and you have one very awesome and fascinating band.

I recently had the great pleasure of witnessing this bunch live, supporting none less than the legendary Regurgitator, and it’s hardly surprising this group found themselves on such an esteemed bill because:  a. they’re really bloody good, and b. they share The Gurge’s predeliction towards heady musical eclecticism.  If you delight in records which leap from one genre to the next at the merest whim, throwing one curve-ball after another until you concede that you’re not at all certain what to expect next, whilst somehow still maintaining a semblance of musical continuity by way of clever sequencing which returns the listener back to familiar territory at semi-regular intervals – ya get all that? – then you may very well dig this.  And if not, then there’s still the distinct probability that you’ll enjoy one or two of the tracks on offer here in and of themselves, unless of course you’re completely allergic to the sweaty lure of the dancefloor.

Without ever being completely alienating to those with more “mainstream” sensibilities, this is by and largely music to shake the booty and stir the soul, and upon occasion, leave the head both shaken AND stirred by the sheer abundance of ideas competing for space here.  Indeed, there are moments when this band’s musical cup threatens to messily runneth over, but in a modern music scene chock-full o’ bands without two good ideas to rub together, this seems a relatively minor quibble…and one need only listen to a track as perfectly realised as the sublimely soulful “Bad Son” to hear how fundamentally funking awesome this band really are.  Definition of a “catchy” song?!  One which has me singing along by the end of the first listen, gawdammit!!  Other immediate stand-out tracks include the joyfully zany “I Am Dog”, the stirring sing-a-long of “Pine Nut” and the gleefully schizophrenic – and preposterously groovy – “Danger” (simply adore that funky-assed synth)!

Basically, if you can’t find something to like on this record, then you have no fucking soul and will burn in Hell with no friends to keep you company.  This is “the shit”, to put it as eloquently as possible, and if we’re lucky we’ll all go to Heaven and find that it has choirs who sing as gorgeously as the good folk in this band.  And any group that succeeds in making female rapping, of all things, seem actually pretty awesome must be doin’ somethin’ right.  Long Live Laneous!!

© Michael Bowser, Music Vice

The Gig: The Laurels with The Demon Parade and The Priory Dolls
Where: Ding Dong Lounge, Melbourne, Victoria, Australia
When: 25 September 2010
In One Word: Stoned

Okay, just a quick clarification of this article’s “In One Word” description:  No, your honour, I had not partaken of any illicit substances prior to this evening’s show; indeed, due to current lack of finances, I didn’t even have a single fucking DRINK all night!  But this evening’s entertainment was more than enough to put me into a comparable state, and I’m sure some of the muso’s tonight had partaken of something or other before hitting the stage.  Now on with the friggin’ review…

The Priory Dolls are a young bunch – fuck me, the lead singer/guitarist looks barely fourteen! – but I must say, they definitely do rock some.  Stoner/shoegazer rock with a heavy 90s Brit influence:  The aforementioned singer manages a very credible “detached” vocal performance that evokes said time and place, suggesting he has led an awfully jaded life for someone who’s yet to finish Year 12 (boy, they do grow up quickly these days)!  But I’m just being bitter…these guys (and girl) are actually pretty talented, and the presence of “trippy” keyboards and a fantastically dynamic rhythm section doesn’t hurt…man, that girl beats the hell out of her drums, and the bass player has stage presence to burn.  Especially love the song that starts off sounding like Pornography-era Cure, at least until the spell was broken by the vocalist opening his mouth and NOT sounding like Robert Smith.  Oh well.  Still, I wish them the best of luck in this crazy game called “rock ‘n’ roll”, and hope that the singer finds the time to do his homework and make his mum and dad proud by finishing high school.

Next up is The Demon Parade, and while they evidently share some of the same influences, they’re a bit older and take their stage cues as much from the Seattle scene of that era as they do anything British.  They certainly know how to work up a sweat, and give a few dance-happy members of the audience a decent cardio workout while they’re at it.  They also have one heck of a lighting show to accompany their fuzzed-up atmospherics, and oh…they sound fucking magnificent.  That’s all I really ask out of a live band:  To give me a decent visual show, and sound good whilst doing it.  Easy, right?  Then HOW COME SO FEW BLOODY BANDS CAN ACTUALLY MANAGE THIS?!  Just as long as this current “90′s revival” doesn’t stretch into recycling stuff from the latter part of that decade, when it all went seriously to shit.

The final band up are The Laurels, and continuing the theme for tonight:  More stoner rock… oh, and another girl drummer!  Again, they sound great, doing arguably as much with their four-piece line-up as the last two bands did with larger ones, but the visual thrills are a little leaner this time around.  Not that the aforementioned Seattle influence has entirely gone away – one of the two singer-guitarists even wears a green-and-yellow striped sweater-y thing – but energetic stage antics are decidedly thin on the ground.  Still, I’ve seen many a band stiffer than this one, which doesn’t necessarily excuse this group so much as it indicts the whole lazy-arsed modern music scene, really.  And in their defense, their sound is definitely one that is more ploddingly moody than playfully manic, so perhaps it’s an apt enough performance after all…just not one that demands to be witnessed, I’m afraid.  Expect they’d be terrific on record, and full points for having the balls to follow the infinitely more visually intense Demon Parade on-stage.

A fine show all around, ladies and gents.  Bravo!  (Anyone got a spare spliff on ‘em?)

© Michael Bowser, Music Vice

Pictures of The Demon Parade at Ding Dong Lounge, Melbourne:

Related internet links:
The Laurels
The Demon Parade
The Priory Dolls

Title: Flamingo
Artist: Brandon Flowers
Label: Island, Vertigo
Released: 3 September 2010
In one word: Unadulterated

It’s safe to say The Killers are a fairly divisive band:  For every self-professed “music lover” who opines that they have come to put rock and/or pop music in their respective graves, there’s another who believes they just might be among its saviours.  Personally, I fit firmly in the latter category, but I’m gonna do my damndest not to let this trivial little fact unduly sway this review (Lord, give me strength)…

Often lazily dismissed as a “synth-pop” band, or an “80s-throwback” band, or, heh, a “U2 tribute/rip-off” band – not that there’s anythin’ wrong with any of these things! – but those of us who know better are well aware that The Killers are actually quite an eclectic little bunch, with many and varied influences…as best attested by “Sawdust”, a “b-sides” compilation released a few years back, which among other novelties included a fairly faithful cover of country classic “Ruby, Don’t Take Your Love to Town”.  But Brandon Flowers and his “day-band” have always been smart enough to realise that good songwriting is good songwriting, irrespective of any “genre” tags people may be inclined to impose upon things, and upon first listen – hell, even by the end of spectacular opener “Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas”, which by said conclusion had given me that all-too-familiar Killers-esque lump-in-the-throat – it’s clear that that’s exactly what we have here in Mr. Flowers’ debut solo album:  A record of darn fine “pop” songs.  Period.

Which isn’t to say that this is “just another Killers album under another name”.  All The Killers’ albums are quite defiantly different beasts, and “freed” from the doubtlessly democratic confines of his usual band, Mr. Flowers delivers an album/animal that is stubbornly its own.  Sure, it pushes to the fore many of the elements we were kinda expecting it to:  Less rock ‘n’ roll bombast; a few more “ballads”; more synths; more country-tinged guitars; more soulful, gospel-esque moments of sheer, unadulterated JOY…perhaps the only thing I was expecting but didn’t get were more piano-and-vocal-only moments a la the glorious “Enterlude” (from “Sam’s Town”).  Oh well, win some, lose some; I could probably suffer a whole album of just Brandon an’ his pianah!  Most importantly, though, this album performs the trick we “Flowers-children” expect more than any other:  To be taken on an epic journey, via some decidedly melancholic places, into territory that is ultimately uplifting and, dare I say, even “life-affirming” (two words you’ll NEVER hear me put together again, I promise, at least until the next Killers album…I have a well-earned reputation as a dyed-in-the-wool cynic to protect here)!

Basically, if you’re a fan of the Killers albums – and perhaps more importantly, all four of their albums to date, not just the ones with the biggest singles on ‘em – it seems unlikely that you’ll not love this one as well.  It’s still got those stirring, soaring vocals; those sublime lyrics; those stunning synths.  Sure it’s not quite as meticulously-crafted and flawlessly-arranged as the best Killers stuff, but there’s also beauty in imperfection…just think of it as Brandon “jamming out” with a different bunch of co-writers and musicians for a spell, one which notably includes Daniel Lanois (one of the two men responsible for lending U2′s career longevity beyond the mid-80s, yet somehow unable to save their last couple of albums from borderline mediocrity – thank God Mr. Flowers and co. emerged just in time to take up the slack)!  Which all goes to show what sterling company this frontman keeps, even when his “official” band members won’t come out to play – a couple of “cameos” on this album notwithstanding – and having said that, here’s sincerely hoping the next Killers album isn’t too far afield.  Las Vegas’ most noteworthy export of recent years once again gambles and wins.

© Michael Bowser, Music Vice

The Gig: Skipping Girl Vinegar
Where: The Toff In Town, Melbourne, Victoria, Australia
When: 18 September 2010
In One Word: Gleeful

I’ll come clean “right off the bat”, as they say, and admit that this will be one of the shortest reviews I’ll ever write because:  A. I missed the opening acts (in spite of arriving at 9-something pm on a Saturday night?), and B. There isn’t a whole lotta ravin’ someone can do about a band as fundamentally joy-inducing as this one.

Those who know me well know damn well that I’m not terribly partial to “happy” kinda music, but when it’s as well-realised as Melbourne’s Skipping Girl Vinegar, it’s hard to keep a smile off one’s face.  This is gleeful, bouncy music of the highest order.  I recently received a single of theirs which claimed to evidence a “hobo aesthetic”, and this is nicely represented tonight by empty water bottles fulla rocks and old-school telephones being rhythmically dialled all the way to “0″ (all due kudos to the female band member willing to fulfil these impressive duties)!

The set highlight for yours truly is, undeniably, the brand-spanking-new stomper of a single, “Wasted”, a song admittedly not quite indicative of their overall sound…but if you can stomach music that is built around a painfully sincere and not-exactly-photogenic sonovabitch singin’ an’ strummin’ with a helluva backing band to lend him wings, this group is probably gonna blow you blissfully away.  I personally tend to take an instant disliking to any and all sensitive-new-age-wankers-with-an-acoustic-guitar, and even I had a shit-eating grin permanently plastered to my face for the hour-plus duration of this set!  A good pop song will always be a good pop song, whatever format it’s presented in, and that’s what this band ultimately specialise in.  Fuckin’ NOICE, people.

© Michael Bowser, Music Vice

Related internet links:
Skipping Girl Vinegar

The Gig: Regurgitator with Rat Vs Possum and Laneous & The Family Yah
Where: The Hi-Fi Bar, Melbourne, Victoria, Australia
When: 17 September 2010
In One Word: Bouncing

A press release I recently received featured a quote comparing the frontman of Laneous & The Family Yah to Mike Patton, and while there’s no denying the lad’s got some amazing vocal range, the band’s overall sound has arguably more to do with the musical lineage of a group like Mr. Bungle than the Patton-fronted band itself:  To my mind, this is what Zappa and his Mothers would have sounded like if they had succumbed more fully to their “funkier” side.  Laneous himself takes a little while to loosen up and take the nervous hands out of his pockets, but once he does so this is not only an aural but visual powerhouse of a band…and call me sleazy, but I’ve always been rather partial to the whole two-sexy-girls-as-slinky-backup-singers thang.  Special “props” also to the awesomely talented and dynamic drummer, and wild ‘n’ wacky synth player…not to take anything whatsoever away from the note-perfect bass and guitar players, but such dudes always get plenty of attention in this industry, so when the more “marginalised” instruments stand out so loud and proud I seriously wanna sing their praises.  Oh, and the singer dude also happens to play a pretty mean guitar on a couple of the later songs…bloody show-off!  Brilliant stuff, and funky as a motherfucker.

Rat Vs Possum may well have one of the stupidest names I’ve heard in quite an aeon, but they’re a fucking killer band.  Joyously intense, borderline-instrumental “indie” music with stacks of keyboards and an absolute shitload of drums!  Tunes to put your feet on the dancefloor and your head way, way up in the clouds.  Fooking magic.

Regurgitator have been around a while – have become somewhat of an Australian music “institution”, you might say – and the heated anticipation of the crowd speaks loudly of this tonight.  A “Gurge, Gurge, Gurge” chant even briefly starts up somewhere, shortly after drummer Pete Kostic puts the finishing touches to his own kit set-up (“big” they may be, but these boys never lost that spirit of “DIY”).  Unlike most bands to gain such local-legend status, however, it’s great to see that “The ‘Gurge” have not mellowed with age…far from it.  They still bounce around with youthful abandon, in spite of the fact that they are a good bit older than many of the people in Da House this evening (old enough to have even fathered some of the teenagers present, methinks)!

My apologies, by the by, for the “rappism” in the last paragraph, but this is one band that have always managed to make hip-hop seem way cooler than it has any right to.  For the uninitiated, though, The ‘Gurge play oh-so-much more than “just” hip-hop…to be sure, they have always been “genre magpies”, tackling any and all musical styles that they see fit:  Synth-pop, punk, funk, disco, jangly guitar rock, groove-based metal riffage; if it’s remotely danceable, chances are these lads have tried it at one time or another.  Tonight they play as good an assortment from their twenty-odd year career as any fan could hope for, though I’ll freely admit it’s the shit from their early EPs and first album that please this old (okay: “ageing”) fan the most…fuck me, they even play “Pop Porn”, the glorious bastards!  And while I admit I didn’t, ahem, “get around to” buying the last couple of albums, from what I heard of ‘em tonight I may have some catching up to do…

I do believe that most, if not all, of the crowd walked away very satisfied tonight:  Two very excellent support bands and a “greatest hits”-y set from the headliners, who could possibly complain?  Hell, we even have classic Ween album “The Mollusk” to escort us out the door.  Gigs don’t get much – if indeed any – better than this.

© Michael Bowser, Music Vice

Pictures of Regurgitator, Rat Vs Possum and Laneous & The Family Yah at The Hi-Fi, Melbourne:

The Gig: Ennis Tola with Lan Party, Mandek Penha and Three Phase
Where: The Espy, Melbourne, Victoria, Australia
When: 9 September 2010
In One Word: Eclectic

It’s a Thursday night at The Esplanade Hotel (affectionately known as “The Espy” in these parts), and while it’s hardly packed, it’s a decent enough crowd all things considered.  First band on is called Three Phase, a band relatively new to the live music scene if their general lack of stage presence and sometimes sloppy performance is anything to go by.  Having said that, there’s some definite potential here, and with a few more gigs and rehearsals under their belts they could certainly be a contender in the post-Muse style (genre?) of music they choose to dabble in (“prog-metal lite”, perhaps?)…suffice it to say, I’ve suffered far worse bands than this in my time.  Just remember, boys:  Practice makes perfect, an’ all that lark…

I’ve written an awful lot about Mandek Penha of late, and have an interview with their enigmatic lunatic of a leader in the works as I type these words, so I’ll keep it brief and just say that they’re fucking brilliant – and perhaps just a wee bit creepy – so if you’re not afraid of music and stage presence as challenging as it is weird, you could do oh-so-much worse.  Just don’t go joining their crazy-arsed cult whatever you do, ’cause Mr. Mandek himself is apparently quite the disciplinarian (I sure as shit wouldn’t want him as MY “Father”)!

Two bands down, two to go.  Whew!  I’ll certainly give Lan Party one thing:  Trying to pin down any readily identifiable influences – every “hack” reviewer’s comfy crutch, goshdarnit! – is no easy task.  Sure there’s a vague base of the “heavier” side of contemporary funky shit, a la Red Hot Chili Peppers and Rage Against The Machine, but once you factor in the frequently “schizophrenic” song structures and underlying musical eclecticism, things get a tad muddier to define.  Unfortunately, said eclecticism and schizophrenia takes on its own over-familiarity, and dare I say even predictability after a spell, leaving the band feeling a tad repetitive by the end in spite of their best efforts to the contrary.  I fail to even notice which song of their (somewhat over-long) set is the single they’re supposedly here to launch tonight.  There’s no denying that there’s talent and musicianship aplenty here though, and their sound is ultimately “their own” – an achievement as rare as hen’s balls in this day and age.

The same can’t quite be said of headlining act Ennis Tola - their debt to Jeff Martin and his Tea Party all too obvious – but fuck me if they ain’t a great-sounding band just the same, both on record and, I can now safely attest, in the live arena.  The inclusion of a band member who plays more “exotic”/non-”rock” instruments such as flute and koto (look it up) does no harm whatsoever in this regard, but in all fairness this is a band full of very accomplished musicians.  Their stage show offers no visual frills whatsoever – you couldn’t find a more bland-looking bunch if you tried – but man, they do SOUND good.  Well worth a look…or rather, listen!  Just close your eyes and allow the music to transport you some place far away…

…Then catch a cab home afterwards, since the trams stopped running a full half-hour ago.  Bloody Thursday nights:  Gotta love ‘em. Le sigh…

© Michael Bowser, Music Vice

Pictures of Ennis Tola and Mandek Penha at The Espy:

The Gig: The Bedroom Philosopher with The Boat People and Pinky Beecroft & The White Russians
Where: Northcote Social Club, Melbourne, Victoria, Australia
When: 4 September 2010
In One Word: Entertainment!

It’s not always that I arrive in time to catch the first of a three-band line-up, but when an evening’s opener features one of the key members of Aussie legends – fuck me, did I actually just say those two words? – Machine Gun Fellatio, I guess it’s worth the effort and, regrettably, expense…my customary disorganisation costing me a twenty buck cab ride.  Fortunately, Pinky Beecroft & The White Russians prove well worth it all.  I’d heard it opined, by the frontman himself among others, that his current outfit is a bit more “rock” than his old one…and sure enough, apart from the odd slightly “miserable” number, this band certainly kicks some formidable booty.  Not that I have a problem of any sort with miserabilism (viva la Morrissey!), and Pinky has always shown a great talent for holding one’s attention when it’s just him and a keyboard.  And while the less-familiar songs certainly strike a chord with yours truly – I too have a “thing” for Scarlet Johansson, in spite of my belief that she’s by and largely a talentless whore…whoops, did I say that out loud? – it’s the rather excellent renditions of “Pussy Town” and Mr. Beecroft’s all-time masterpiece, the gorgeously disfunctional “Unsent Letter”, that best appease we “old fans” in the audience; of which there’s a few, judging by the number of people singing along.  Fantastically entertaining from (unintentionally?) bumbling start to (yes, I do believe) abrupt finish, and let me just say, any man who feels the compulsion to bring hand sanitiser on-stage with him is definitely rock ‘n’ roll in my book.

The Boat People amp the “nerdy” quotient up suitably, though unfortunately, it’s not nearly so self-deprecating and endearing this time around.  Every bit as pretentious at their stupid name suggests, I have vague recollections of these guys from when I lived up in Brisbane, and understand now why I couldn’t quite remember what they even “sounded” like:  Kind of a poor man’s Bloc Party-meets-The Hives-meets any other hit “indie” band of recent years that you care to think of, with the additional “twist” of whiny Australian accents which bring nothing tantalising to this already well-worn table.  I mean, the music certainly ain’t half-bad at times, but the lyrics and vocals are kinda tiresome and the stage banter even more so, especially in the witty wake of Mr. Beecroft, a man who oozes awkward charisma no matter how LITTLE he tries.  Bad?  No.  Mediocre?  Yes, and fucking then some.  All quirky haircuts and “nerd-cool”, without the overwhelming talent to pull it off.  But then again, they are awful young, so who knows…uglier ducklings have certainly blossomed into quite beautiful swans.  Give ‘em time, maybe they’ll even grow a sense of humour.

Now I’ve spoken a tad about nerdiness and awkwardness and whatforth so far, so let me just say this:  The Bedroom Philosopher’s Justin Heazlewood must be swimming knee-deep in geek-girl pussy.  He does make some quip about having copped a solitary hand-job from some hippie chick in…somewhere or other, but I suspect he’s grossly understating the sordid reality of it all.  Let’s look at the facts:  He’s talented as buggery, both as a comedian and a musician…and perhaps more importantly, has a helluva “backing band” to, well, back him up.  The banter obviously rocks, and the inclusion of a sitar-player ALWAYS rocks…and heck, the fact that Mr. Heazlewood’s appearance and speech bear more than a passing resemblance to a good friend of mine doesn’t necessarily hurt to seal the deal of my being somewhat enamoured with him (in a non-gay, respect-for-another-man kinda way, of course).  His rapport with the audience is largely flawless – though some harsh words between himself and a very “blokey”-sounding heckler does have me fearing a little for his safety at one point! – but in a room full of fellow “geeks” he ultimately goes down a treat.  Brilliant stuff.

All up, a highly entertaining night out, it’s just a shame about them humourless motherfuckers in the middle pooping the party somewhat.

© Michael Bowser, Music Vice

The Gig: Sex On Toast and Mamushka
Where: The Empress Hotel, Melbourne, Victoria, Australia
When: 25 August 2010
In One Word: Sensational

First question:  How many fucking bands is Melbourne’s Angus Leslie in?  Second question:  How the fuck does he always manage to get so many bloody people out to said bands’ shows on weekdays?  I recently compared this sonavabitch to Frank Zappa, but let’s be fair:  He actually has more vocal range than Zappa, ie. is arguably a better singer, but he’s not quite as sensational a guitarist.  But damn close.

Mamushka play first…a band I have never before had the pleasure of, but “pleasure” is the key word here.  All manner of “world”-y music and jazz, by way of a touch of metal and other less Conservatorium Of Music-friendly genres:  The sound of gypsies having accidentally wandered into Texas Chainsaw Massacre territory, in other words…always a good thing in my book.  So yeah, granted, they’re very Estradasphere an’ all, and no great shakes visually – sheer bloody-minded musicianship reigning supreme here – but fuck it, they’re pretty darned awesome.  And a quick Myspace hit tells me they even have members of the Doch Gypsy Orchestra and Bedroom Philosopher in their midst, along with that seemingly ubiquitous Angus fella, so their cup clearly runneth over with talent.

So who’s up next?  Oh fuck me, it’s Sex On Toast…

I’ve written about these guys before, so what more can I possibly say?  You like entertainment?  Well, you may well be in luck!  But what’s that…you don’t much care for Zappa/Patton/Zorn-esque perversions of the jazz and rock genres?  Well, my friend, you may well be shit outta luck.  Unless of course you like fairly faithful (if male-fronted) covers of Rihanna songs?  And snippets of George Michael songs chucked willy-nilly amongst all manner of other pop detritus?  Well, maybe you’ll enjoy this after all.  Sex On Toast quite genuinely fit the bill of “something for everyone” entertainment…seriously, if you don’t get at least one or two smiles out of their unashamedly smug antics, check yer pulse, ’cause you may already be among the living dead.  In this post-post(-post?)-modern age we unfortunately live in, this really is as good as it gets.  Good old-fashioned showmanship, motherfuckers…word.  If you live anywhere near Melbourne and have the chance to check ‘em out, do me a favour (and yourself, while you’re at it) and check ‘em out…and if you STILL don’t like ‘em, then I’ll personally kick you in the nuts, no extra charge.

© Michael Bowser, Music Vice

Pictures of Sex On Toast at The Empress Hotel:

Related internet links:
Sex On Toast interview
Sex On Toast Myspace