one fellow's political coverage, music ramblings and general hijinks across decades under a range of guises at several locations often in a state of awe.
Sue/Ara, could you fill in the name of TMOC’s bass player, I can’t recall who he is! Ta.
With the stretch marks and face imprints still fresh on the walls from Saturday night’s Tumbleweed, The Mark Of Cain, The Fauves and Motorspirit doorbuster, Sunday instead saw both crowd and band members brush shoulders in a mutual appreciation of each other.
Continue reading “Tumbleweed; The Mark Of Cain; The Fauves, Planet, October 27, 1996”
From the look on the majority of the pimply bogan boys’ faces at the close of Metropolis on Friday night, Mr Bungle had done their job: confusion, utter confusion! Because as the fans of Mike Patton’s other band, Faith No More, spent their cash expecting to see more of the same flaccid and accessible muzak, Patton and the scary jazz beast that is Mr Bungle just left them cussing and thinking that the onstage wiring was faulty. Ha ha ha!
The “Unipalosers” may have only played to about twelve people in Canberra, home of our national treasures but little more besides, so finding a wealth of punters at the Shenton Park Hotel could have been quite a surprise for the tired gaggle of Murmur stablemates. And “yip”, they burped, for this was the last gig of their five week Australian tour and Vanessa (Jebediah) was sick of sharing vans with nine stinky lads.
It was only a few weeks earlier, when Flashing Tablet broke the sound barrier at a party in the Rosemount, that I realised what a great room it could become. Being just down the road from Perth’s gig and indie club epicentre at Planet and encapsulating all the goodness of the olde pub environment, sweet Saturday gigs at the Rosemount looked to be the go, followed perhaps by a post-gig crawl down the hill.
Continue reading “Weathervane; Burnside, Rosemount Hotel, August 17, 1996”
When a local band puts in the effort, it’s quite amazing how their organisational energies, lighting rig and fervent sticker distribution can turn a beer barn shindig into a sweltering mass of pogoing punters. Allow the band a little more room to act like rock stars – as in keeping the audience waiting in near darkness with smoke machines and red lights upping the atmosphere – and once again the exotic dizziness of a rock concert comes to the fore.
A dash of guitar grunt, a sprinkle of exquisite harmony, a few deft lines of lolling bass, all topped with some hit-squad homey humour … this year’s campus band competition ran the full gauntlet. And after experiencing simply a smidgin of the WA contingient, I’ll wager a barrel of pickled fish on each and all of these folk dominating finals for more years to come.
Continue reading “The NAD Campus Band WA State Final, Planet, August 7, 1996”
words – 610 (though with 6 bands! please?)
For the first time, by my memory anyway, the thoroughfare between the Grosvenor’s front and back rooms was finally opened to the trampling of the ordinary punter through the Grosvenor’s pool room. When both rooms are open, as in an impromptu mega-gig like Saturday’s, this little corner in East-ish Perth becomes a veritable hive of scenesters and shysters simply celebrating the opportunity of choice between snug pub or big venue, soft or loud, a bar to lean on or carpet to jump upon. All power to choice, I say.
Picture, if you will … the dark Planet innards dusted with stage smoke, brilliant streams of coloured light cutting the fog, the chamber full of 6 Mile High flunkies bounding to the beats and, through the floor from the basement below, the physical rumble of Napalm Death flexing their vocal chords for hundreds of extreme metal fans.
Continue reading “6 Mile High; Lounge; Surveyor 4, Planet, July 27, 1996”
i know it’s a bit long but there’s a lot of comment which has to be said here. the crowd were absolutely cuddly.
With the recently thriving Fremantle community of musicians throttled by the closure of almost every venue in town, I have oft wondered what this huge and extremely loyal base of bands and fans do now. Do they hang out in the pinball arcades? Do they go fishing a lot more? Or maybe they just spend an extra ten hours a week at the cafe?
Continue reading “Air Ensemble; Squidfinger; Triggerfish, Fly By Night, July 19, 1996”
I get a little misty-eyed when a totally empty room at about 8pm suddenly transforms into a happening gathering by about 10, all in the name of seeing some virtual unknowns make a hell of a racket. From being the sole punter, trying to raise the barkeeper’s hopes, I was soon happily engulfed by an impressive cross-section of folk who simply needed a reason to dance. Jolly good stuff.
Continue reading “Prickle; Kerb; Tucker Bs; Freud’s Pillow, MX, July 13, 1996”
