Six Ft Hick, The Wulvs, TheHits, The Fondelles @ TheTroubadour, Brisbane(03/03/06)

Mon 6th Mar, 2006 in Gig Reviews

I thought I’d have to break out the brass knucks to get in the door tonight, but no – The Troubadour has about 30% of the crowd I was expecting. Maybe it’s the rain. I take back every defence I’ve ever ventured – Brisbanites, you are a bunch of lazy fucks!

The Fondells initiate the noisemaking on a night laden thick with grindy thrash. But it’s the beer-stocking part of the evening and people skit around like poisoned flies; I think we’ll just have to get over that. The Hits are cool. They are 3-chord strum masters. After Never Sing This Song Again a guy beside me intimates: “That completely rocked my balls”. Whether he was talking about the band or my dancing, I dunno. But my moves were a product of the band’s voodoo and therefore I give them credit for the entire gamut of pleasure.

I have been very keen to see The Wulvs; theirs is a deeper, fuller rendition of things that make rock super: big dumb chords, anthemic progressions and lyrics that are all the better for being indecipherable at high volume. On Tell Me How it Feels drums are beaten like bodies. I’m getting a vibe from their sound – it’s like a haunted and possessed sawmill that starts up only when you’re walking by. Muuuaaah. Dudes, you wake the big dog in my heart.

In the Ladies I’m bailed up by a saucy buzz-cut chic. She says: “Hey – I can tell you’re up for it tonight”. Can she? It must be that inner glimmer from anticipating SixFtHick. You know what I’m talking about, you ladies, and you men of refined sentiment. Geoffro Corbett: oh baby. Gentle Ben Corbett: uh-huh, you got it. Put em together: some sort of sexy nightmare based on ‘Paint Your Wagon’ and a cabin where dirty things happen.

Tonight is the launch of SixFtHick’s double single Beat Myself / Hanging Out to Dry from their impending album Cane Trash and the moment they set off Beat Myself it’s like a big slap from a fat lady, and suddenly everyone realises they should stop behaving. These guys’ songs – bejesus – so macho and funny, like a well-hung lumberjack pissing on daisies. When they play I Was Just Cleaning It And It Went Off everyone just goes stupid, and some form of basic martial arts training is recommended to survive in the front of the crowd. I even fit in a few punches, an ok consolation when watching hot men you can’t have.

Afterwards, my friend says she had to go enjoy it down the back (I didn’t notice she’d gone). She said her head was going to explode from the collective power of noise and hyper projected front-manning. See, that’s exactly why I walked through a storm to get here.

Carmen Keates.