As the night’s headline act, Victoria’s The Exploders began carrying their instruments onto the Jive stage, I witnessed another instance in a concerning pattern of behaviour among young guys at rock gigs.
The night had opened with Former Child Stars, a local five-piece with a sound as preened as their iron-straightened hairstyles. As their parents proudly watched from the flanks, the Stars impressively segued from pop-rock to organ-infused rock and roll to melodic Britpop. Such variety should win broad appeal, providing they can maintain the originality required to avoid the party band label and accompanying Casino residency.
Next on stage were Adelaide rockers, Swayback , who took the tone from zippy-about-town hatchback to white-line-snorting vintage V8 muscle with their brand of swamp-soaked rock and roll. The addition of another rhythm guitar allows more room for lead, and with bad-ass bass and thumping drum lines akin to the rhythm of a lumpy Chrysler 440 engine, it’s possible to imagine how Wolfmother may have sounded had they been influenced by Gene Vincent rather than Led Zeppelin.
Swayback left the stage to applause, a round of those “they were cool” nodding gestures and even a back-flip from one tipsy punter who was surprisingly more acrobatic than he looked. Then again, so was John Belushi.
As I looked upon the empty floor from the balcony, wondering how the Exploders’ sound would complement the quite different sounds of the two support acts, two groups of teenagers rushed the stage to greet the band as they were setting up. The group of girls, giddy on sparkling wine, were just excitable as girls running in packs usually are. It was the three guys whose behaviour struck me as curious.
I watched intrigued from on high as the hair product holding up their ragged checkout assistant mops almost melted in the heat of their anticipation; as they vied desperately for attention while the band afforded them a discomforted nod and smile; and as they cheered and applauded each member checking the sound level of his instrument. The most cringe-worthy moment, however, came when they toasted glasses of wine to the keyboardist, and it became apparent that they had necked their beers and bought a bottle in honour of him and his.
Such idolatry is not unusual for stadium-rock bands, nor are The Exploders unworthy of it, but it’s just more obvious at a small venue like Jive, and very much in contrast to the indifferent cool rock fans usually portray. By comparison, the group hugs, groping and high-fives that greeted every song looked symptomatic of suppressed feelings – the kind which burn unrequited in the showers after a footy game.
The hirsute Exploders, however, would look as at home on the footy field as they would sporting military flat-tops. In town to promote their new album Easy & The Sun , they forewent any chit-chat and got down to business. With tight harmonies and catchy guitar hooks, the Exploders’ sound is redolent with echoes of an era circa The Animals, The Kinks and Cream. The influence of the latter could be responsible for TJ Allender’s frequent and excellent lead guitar work, so unusual in a modern market that eschews such talents for being self-indulgent (and, of course, because the more repetitive a song, the more likely it is to stick in our heads until we buy a single, if only to have the song in a physical form that can be ceremoniously destroyed).
The sixties influence continued with a cover of The Beatles’ She Came In Through The Bathroom Window before finishing with a Sergeant Pepper-like vaudeville flavour, similar to that sometimes favoured by the likes of Supergrass and Ocean Colour Scene.
Such melodic songs stand out amongst the tuneless norm of the current charts and, given sufficient air-play, Easy & The Sun could find many keen ears. But if the album’s only achievement is to inspire three young men to express their emotions through song, it will have proved life-changing.
