Cold Chisel, You Am I @ AISArena, Canberra (17/11/11)

Sun 20th Nov, 2011 in Gig Reviews

Nostalgia is often a wonderful thing. Such was the case when the iconic Cold Chisel blew the roof off the AIS Arena on Friday night, on the Canberra leg of their Light The Nitro Tour. Sold out in mere minutes, the show was always going to be spectacular, and Barnes and co. definitely didn’t disappoint.

Chisel last played in Canberra 30 years ago, and while some things have changed since then, the heart of the band certainly hasn’t. The guitar-smashing, vodka-swilling, lady-killer bunch of lads of the past may be gone, but the talent, the passion and the traffic-stopping vocals are still permanent fixtures of any Chisel show.

Opening the show, You Am I played to an arena that wasn’t nearly as full as it should have been. Overshadowed by the main act and the astronomical bar lines, Tim Rogers and the rest of the boys soldiered on, clearly not caring too much about the empty seats. Rogers has always been a devil-may-care kind of artist, and that much was evident as he blazed through the set with the confidence of an artist who knows just how good he is. Clad in all white, with his multiple tattoos on show, Rogers is like a rock n’ roll pirate – all ballsy bravado and Keith Richards-esque swagger. For every person who thinks Rogers is arrogant and crass, there are five people who think he’s a talented national treasure. It quickly became evident why as he led the band through a string of well-known numbers and hidden gems, the highlight being 94’s Berlin Chair. The sparse audience may have been mostly made up of 50-year-old early birds who only wanted one thing, but You Am I weren’t fazed at all, as they warmed things up for a band they obviously admire.

The atmosphere inside the arena was electric as it grew closer to nine. Mammoth bar lines waned and waxed, and the ushers went into overdrive as punters scrambled to find their seats, spilling beer on the laps of disgruntled fans along the way.

Any discomfort was forgotten however, when – for the first time in thirty years – Cold Chisel stood together on a Canberra stage.

From the moment they opened with Standing on The Outside, Chisel had every member of the audience – from the 50-year olds reliving their youth to the Gen Y-ers who grew up on a solid diet of Barnsey – singing along to every word. It’s a mark of their impressive back catalogue that every opening bar was met with roars and shrill screams. Perennial favourite Cheap Wine was belted out to perfection, My Baby had every toe tapping, while Forever Now and Choirgirl slowed things down a little. And this was all in the first 20 minutes.

Rifts and bad blood forgotten, Jimmy Barnes and Ian Moss shared the spotlight, flanked by Don Walker, Phil Small and newly minted drummer, Charley Dayton. It was clear that they were all back where they belonged. For a band to still have that much chemistry, after nearly four decades of ups and downs, is remarkable. It became clear that, for all their breakups and drama, Chisel still gel together as easily as they did in 1979.

Chisel’s musical influences quickly became evident, with the twist-and-shout rhythm of Rising Sun, the poignant piano strains of Four Walls, to the aggressive rock of You Got Nothing I Want and the bluesy riffs on Breakfast at Sweethearts. Cold Chisel is anything but a generic band, each song vastly different from the next and each telling it’s own unique story. Two such stories that are well and truly stitched into this nation’s musical history are told on Khe Sanh and Flame Trees. The former was met by hysterical screaming, those familiar opening piano notes giving way to what kind of felt like the biggest karaoke performance ever.

All night security had tried to keep the beer-soaked, fanatic fans in their seats, but the moment Flame Trees started up, there was absolutely no hope. A swarm of burly men and bleach-blond women stormed to the front of the stage, and for the first time that night, the AIS Arena started to look like a good ol’-fashioned Chisel gig. While Barnes may be the famous vocalist, Moss definitely still holds his own, and the blistering Bow River was a clear highlight and crowd favourite of the set.

The old days were not forgotten, and the night took a somber turn when the late Steve Prestwich, the original Chisel drummer, was remembered. A stirring rendition of the Prestwich-penned When The War Is Over was accompanied by personal photos, the number making the clear statement that although Steve is gone, the band will never forget him.

Any Cold Chisel fan with any clout knows that they always end their shows with one song. So when they left the stage, there was no doubt in anyone’s minds that Chisel would be back. And sure enough, the euphoric crowd had one last hurrah with the frantic Goodbye (Astrid Goodbye) before the band bid adieu and left the stage amidst thunderous applause.

After seeing Cold Chisel live, it is clear why they have enjoyed the musical longevity they have. Flawless instrumentals, blistering vocals, a dynamic stage presence and a back catalogue that reads like the nation’s greatest hits all combine to make Cold Chisel one of the best live acts this country has ever produced.

While on stage, Barnes lamented on how long it had been since the band had played in Canberra. ‘Let’s not leave it 30 fuckin’ years this time!’ he said, that familiar Scottish twang as present as always.

Let’s hope he stays true to his word.