Fire! Santa Rosa Fire!, KytesOf Omar @ Producers Bar,Adelaide (04/10/08)

Wed 5th Nov, 2008 in Gig Reviews

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There is a thin filmy layer, a bubble, a meniscus upon which all of reality “as we know it” sits. It is a hair’s width stretched over the infinite, a thin perceptive band in the electromagnetic chasm, eleven dimensions folded into three for space and a forth for time, an infinite number of angels dancing on the head of a pin. If we were to pop this bubble and see it all in its manifest glory, our teeny tiny peanut brains would explode from the insanity of it all; but we do gain the occassional glimpse. These are the things that our science is yet to explain. They live among us. They flit in and out of our dreams like shadows. Mothers who lift carwrecks and toss them like toys to free their offspring. Yogis who can pierce themselves with giant needles and yet not draw blood. Psychics who can communicate with the dead. You’ve read the stories: remote viewers, benders of spoons, telepathics, telekenetics, ESP, astral projection, levitation and the ability to pick up Foxtel with their left nipple. People who claim to have seen werewolves, vampires, ghosts, demons, zombies, leprecauns and Michael Jackson. Bigfoot, the Loch Ness monster, cropcircles and the existence of UFOs. And then there’s Producers Bar. Yeah I don’t see the connection either. I mean really!? shit! I don’t know why I write all this insane gibberish sometimes.

Producers Bar: besides being the interdimensional nexus point for most (if not all) of the most shitcrazy opening paragraphs EVER written for an episode of Spoz’s Rant (I swear I have NO idea how I came to this insane conclusion in the first place) is also celebrating its second birthday party tonight (in conjunction with its freaky conjoined twin Electric Light Hotel) and is inviting all of us along for the ride! Woweee!! who knew it’s been only two years!? I could’ve sworn they’ve been here ever since European settlement back in 1836, or maybe even EARLIER than that when a mysterious (and as yet undiscovered) species of sub-intelligent reptiloids constructed these hulking monoliths of doom out of bat guano and obsidian asteroid fragments millions of years ago in conjuction with space beings from the Pleiades star cluster. And maybe tonight they’ll finally open up all those secret “lower levels” and show us just what they’ve REALLY been “producing” all these years!? freaky alien-human hybrids? the AIDS virus? bottled water for Mount Franklin? fuuuuck! I dunno about you but I’m sure as shit eager to find out.

So with giddy (and borderline insane) glee I rush to Producers Bar tonight to see what they have in store for me. Only to arrive much too early for the party. It appears they’ve pulled a “Rocket Bar” on me and wont be opening till at least 10PM. Of course I could’ve just ducked in next door and enjoyed all the free “food” they were serving up at Electric Light but instead we’re here at Producers Bar well before opening, me and the barstaff sharing this brief awkward “moment”, eyeing each other off from opposite ends of the room whilst they hosed out all the blood, chopped up and carried out all the bodies (from last night’s opening of their Friday “Syke” party) and placed fresh candles on all the table tops.. awwww! nothing quite hides all the hideous manslaughter quite like some good ‘ol fashioned mood lighting.

So while they carry about with their drills and surgical saws, filling up those garbage bags: this is me gazing longingly into the rose coloured bar fridge and smiling innocently; oblivious to all the splattering sounds on the plastic sheeting around me, oblivious to the dementing screams of those who are still alive.. y’know, I’m really surprised people don’t come here more often!?

Kytes Of Omar

Yup, we don’t really speak all that often of what REALLY “happens” in Producers bar, but I HAVE observed a far more tangible psychological effect caused by all this insane evil on those who have chosen to work in this fiery hell pit for far too long. Take Anthony for example, lead singer of Kytes Of Omar. He’s been working behind this bar almost to the day that it opened. Nicest bloke you’ll ever meet, humble, self effacing, earnest to a fault. Get him on a live stage however (especially this one) and he suddenly becomes a snarling hangover five times his original size: one who devours entire planets with an unearthly howl that sounds equal parts Caleb Followill, Billy Lunn, Linda Blair and Jello Biafra with an axe to grind. Is there some unseen force working through him to manifest such white knuckle terror? or has Sophie at the bar simply been upping the dosage on all the psychoactive drugs she slips into all of my “beers”!? It’s hard to say but it’s definitely an integral part of their sound: part 60’s surf guitar, part postpunk indie shred laced with a Queens Of The Stone Age petrol driven satanist groove, and a whole shitload of shitstaining terror! They’re every “nice guy” in your neighbourhood who turns out to be a serial killer. They’re every bloodcurdling beast of doom that lies just below the surface of us all. Oh yes! They’re Kytes Of Omar: the scariest damn band in all of the Adelaide music scene!

On the surface they seem just like the archetypal “Australian” rock band: y’know, one of those wacky ones we used to come up with in the 70’s and 80’s. Nothing but sun, surf, fast cars, fast women and fucking good times! (thinly disguised under an indie rock filter of anything from Kings Of Leon, The Strokes, The Subways to The Pixies to keep it current) but peak behind the curtain and you’ll see the film noir post apocalyptic terror that really drives them all. They’re a littany of British backpacker murders, disappearances, kidnappings, bodies dumped in barrels of acid and floating face down in the River Torrens. They’re all those “tunnels” you hear about that riddle the underground of Adelaide. They’re the Beaumont children buried under my floorboards right now as I laugh hysterically. And (strange that I’d mention it) they’re also soon to be featuring as cameo appearance in the next horror film (apparently) produced by the same demented fools who came up with “Wolf Creek”. Oh yes! I’m not just making this shit up, it’s real bitches! Oh and as for tonight’s gig? they had Matt Hills on keys, the sound didn’t totally blow goats, y’know it was kinda fucken awesome (they have me tied up in their basement, I can hear them firing up the chainsaws.. oh gawwd!! please help!! HELP!! WAAUUGHH!!!).

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Fire! Santa Rosa Fire!

And speaking of mild mannered individuals who later turn out to be homicidal face eating serial killers (huh.. what!? oh look! Sophie dropped another “pink pill” in my drink and everything’s all happy again! weeeeee!) along comes our headlining band Fire! Santa Rosa Fire! Yeah I know, I wouldn’t normally get the connection either. When I think of these “propellerheads” I think of nothing but mildly dementing childlike innocence. They’re the “What’s Eating Gilbert Grape” of the Adelaide music scene. They’re syncopated handclaps, tambourines and repetitive chanting. They’re too much red food colouring and artificial sweeteners, spinning around and around, getting a little dizzy and having to lie down for a while. They’re that three year old toddler in every one of us who’s sucked a little too quickly from their “sippy cup”, got a little too excited, bumped their head on that nasty coffee table and now they’re howling tears as mummy puts a Simpson’s bandaid on their foreheads as she cooes: “ooopsie-daisy it looks like you had yourself a little boo-boo!”. Yup, they’re Fire! Santa Rosa Fire! They’re band geeks! They’re indie kid “nine pound weaklings”! They’re awesome! I love these guys! They wouldn’t even hurt a fly! but tonight I dunno whether it’s all these walls closing in around me all a sudden, but it’s becoming less like Romper Room for adults around here and more like an insane mix between Happy Tree Friends, Ren & Stimpy and all those shitscary school kids from Aphex Twin’s “Come To Daddy”.

Granted it started out all “innocence and handclaps” in the first half of their set but something tipped them over the edge, something drove them to the brink of madness, something that looked rather like THIS rambling drunk: this shaved ape with pointed features and sinewy frame, this shining gift from the gods of pisstaking gonzo rock photojournalism, who seemingly busted out of “nowhere” to make his starring appearance tonight (and by “seemingly busted out of nowhere” we’re clearly referring to the revolving-door mental assylum that feeds the Crown & Anchor across the road with all of its highclass loonies). Either way, in next to no time, he’s found himself prime position in front of the stage, locked his beady eyes onto Dave their singer, and proceeds to hurl abuse at him for all his worldly ills. Most of what he said was unintelligible at first, but then his slurring ocker twang became ever clearer with each passing word: “you’re a cocksucker!! cocksucker!! yeaah that’s right!! A HUMAN COCKSUCKER!!!”

Still, not looking to be outdone by this howling interloper, Dave gets an evil grin on his face and without skipping a beat he simply fires right back with: “hey everyone! have you met my dad!? hi dad!! how’ve you liked our gig so far!? awwww don’t be like that dad! c’mon dad!? you’ve never approved of what we’ve done HAVE you!? I’m doing this all for YOU dad!! it’s all for you!!”. Which understandibly only made this skinhead even more belligerent (and all the more hilarious to take photos of) which only fires Dave up even more, and on and on it went.

Eventually (a few songs into this hilarious slanging match), our resident heckler foolishly decides to light up a smoke, promptly ringing alarm bells with all the bar staff, who approach him one by one to persuade him to put OUT the offending “fire stick”, followed by more mumbling obscenities, followed by a larger gathering of barstaff, followed by him being dragged (arms and legs flailing) outside and onto the curb, followed by much cheering from the crowd.

Yup the look on Dave’s face says it all – Dave: 1, Heckler: 0. “Duuuude you SO got pwned!”

Now granted this set tonight was already pretty damn neat. I mean excusing all the howling pisstakes and “backhanded insults” I usually love to let loose on them (including some of my best zingers that I just unleashed on them in that opening paragraph weeeee!) I freely admit it, they’ve found it, they’ve nailed it, Fire! Santa Rosa Fire! have well and truly discovered their “thing”, their sound, their shitcrazy awesome and unique buzz to call their own that will take them onto bigger and better things! I’m seriously digging this shit, I really am!! And thanks to that ONE wingnut in the crowd firing them up tonight, all bets are off!! This isn’t just no teddy bear’s picnic no more, ooooh no! this is war!! This is them killing every damn fucking thing that moves tonight and rocking the absolute shit out’ve that tambourine.. this is Fire! Santa Rosa Fire! proving once that they can fuck with the best of them and win! FUCK YEAAAAH!!

So thus we’re presented with a curious “before and after” study of awesomness here. In the first half we have their song “Bad Trip”. Ever so arty yet blissfully autistic. Effortlessly ecclectic. Lightly dappled and liltingly languid. You could easily imagine Michel Gondry directing the music video as some hipster doofus in a fluffy bunny suit drifts peacefully through a model forest to its bass bounding groove. It’s a sleepwalker jam from go to woe, yet ever so funky..

And then there’s THIS song from the second half of their set: “Stranglehold” and a performance so hilariously disjointed, inebriated and erratic it not only gives Tyger Tyger’s performance of “Buttons & Levers” from last night a run for its money, but turns it on its head, gives it a wedgie, sets it on fire and proceeds to piss all over on its smoking remains. I can see it now: the music video as directed by Chris Cunningham and duuude I’m frightened! Whether it be the work of The Devil, the work of “whatever” lives beneath Producers Bar, or simply the combined effect of all the piss and pills they’ve been downing to celebrate their “victory” tonight; either way this is without a doubt the singularly most fucked up AWESOME shit I’ve seen all week!!

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