The Wahas @ Hopetoun Hotel,Sydney (19/07/09)

Tue 28th Jul, 2009 in Gig Reviews

CHECK OUT THE PHOTOS FROM THE SHOW HERE.

The hazy orange lights beamed down on the grimy Hopetoun stage as the Whipped Cream Chargers filled the room with their own brand of noisy, grungy rock. Men who looked like die-hard Rose Tattoo fans, smoke in one hand and beer in the other, looked out of place amongst the small pockets of early-20s hipsters clinging to the bar (as much an attraction as the stage at this early point in the night).

The Chargers reach the end of a solid set just as the audience realise that they had probably deserved more attention than they’d given. Trudging onto the stage, the night’s main attraction, The Wahas, greet the audience with a quiet “Hello” before immediately breaking out into upbeat rocker, Annabelle. A poppy riff from Tom Richards’ guitar immediately catches the audience’s attention before the group launch into a decidedly uncharacteristic vocal harmony.

Leather jacket-clad figures slowly fill the room, as the five-piece break straight into a second new song, I Got Nothin. With its jaunty chords and sauntering bass, the song opens in similar fashion to the first, before Xavier Diekman, an eerily talented, wiry white-haired drummer, punishes the bass drum and amps up the tempo.

The band takes note. Within seconds the song is powering along with distorted guitar riffs flying out at the audience, Jack Freeman on bass falling to his knees as his fingers fervently slide up and down his guitar and Cass Navarro – with a devilish grin adorning his face – rooted to the spot as he bashes the shit out of a tambourine. It’s the kind of grungy, noise-fuelled song that would spark a nostalgic smile from acts like The Birthday Party, and as the band continue into the night sparks of Iggy Pop and Nick Cave at his most raucous seep into the set.

The bar lies deserted as a packed house, entranced by the band’s peculiar take on grungy-noise-pop-rock, stand silently as a rare silence falls on the room. Navarro takes a swig from the beer at his feet before stepping up to the mic and announcing that several members of the band have decided to go their own way.

The audience seemed more concerned than the band, as they shrug off the silence and launch into I Like It (When My Mother Cries). It’s the highlight and probably the most focused song of the night. Frontman Rupert Parry jabs at his guitar while confidently delivering the moody, angst-fuelled lyrics.

Ears ringing, the audience head back into the dingy smoke-filled Hopetoun corridors as the band glumly signal the end of the night. Two years ago, the band’s sets had the tendency to overwhelm the audience with noise, almost challenging them to find some sort of melody. Tonight the band was cold, but the set blistering. It just remains a shame that a band seemingly on the cusp of something big look set to each head their separate ways.