The Datsuns @ The Gaelic,Sydney (21/11/06)

Thu 23rd Nov, 2006 in Gig Reviews

It’s a hot, sultry school night yet the crowd at the Gaelic are in fine fettle and the mood is one of genuine anticipation that something special is about to explode. I arrive just as The Casanovas start their set. They are a band I know in name only, so I was curious to see and hear them. Their stonking set simply blew me away. It was pure, genuine, upfront genius. These boys wouldn’t have looked out of place drinking whiskey in a smoky LA blues-rock bar sometime in the 70’s. They beat Jet for musical authenticity (and I love Jet).They are the real deal. They deserve to achieve soaring heights in 2007.

The Datsuns, from New Zealand, strutted on stage with all the brilliant, swaggering arrogance of the snake-hipped, hot-lipped, cock-rockers that they are all too often portrayed to be. Skinny! Hairy! Good grief! Then again, perhaps a better description of Dolf and co. would be Brian Molko ten years ago, with a couple of chemistry PhD boffins in tow. All that lanky hair – it was like they had just stepped out of the shire on a Peter Jackson film set…Or maybe a geek’s metal band gone astray?

Two thumping tracks off their recent album, Smoke and Mirrors, Who Are You Stamping Your Foot For, and Such a Pretty Curse, kick us off and the crowd are loving it. Beyond the 70’s rock clichéd influences of AC/DC, T-Rex and Led Zeppelin, this band are certainly talented performers. Particular highlights include the sitar-esque Waiting for Your Time, Not a Second Too Soon, Maximum Heartbreak and Emperor’s New Clothes.  The old favorite, MF From Hell remains fabulous simply because, how could a song called MF From Hell, like, not be fabulous?

You have to applaud the stadium rock heroics and screaming, yelping histrionics of these boys – otherwise the conundrum between thoughts of ‘anthemic derivative shite’ or ‘great performative fun’ becomes too much of a headfuck for a late Tuesday night. I have to admit that the Pete-Townsend-windmill-guitar-arm movements on skinny hairy boys were rather risible. However, as Bernard Zuel recently pointed out, if The Datsuns are not fashionable any more, who really cares? They are still making fabulous, no-frills, glam, gonzo-crazed rock music, great tunes to put on in the privacy of your bedroom before a big night out, mirror and hairbrush props at the ready. How ever old you are. Fun was indeed the order of the crowd tonight and the enthusiastic cries of “Datsuns!”, “Datsuns!” led to a 3 song encore. The frenzied, synchronized, mass-masturbation finale of Freeze Sucker did not disappoint and was instead, rather bloody impressive.

There was nothing remotely deep or clever about the twenty songs that made up tonight’s show, but, musically, The Datsuns can’t be faulted. In that respect they are the natural heirs to the chasm left by the recent demise of The Darkness. They deliver tight, brilliantly executed, fast and full-on, throbbing rock n roll thrills that simply have to be smiled at and nodded along to. The dedicated, hedonistic, sweaty fans at the front of stage po-go-ed religiously throughout the 75 minute set, yet there was little band-audience banter which always disappoints me.  Maybe their trousers were just too tight to talk politely and they had to yelp instead. Then again, you’d yelp too if your trousers were that tight…

See the photos from the Datsuns gig here