On their formation in early 1990, The Fireballs gave a collective ‘up yours’ to the Rockabilly scene that had emerged in Melbourne over the previous decades. This act of rebellion was born out of a desire to push the boundaries of the traditional Rockabilly sound by injecting it with a refreshingly riotous and original energy.  What resulted was the birth of the infamous Fireballs sound – a unique blend of thrash metal and pyschobilly.  It was a sound that would eventually fuel one of the most high-intensity, classic rock performances of the 1990’s.

Judging by the seriously RB-heavy crowd who packed into the Prince of Wales to checkout the first Fireballs gig in over a year (all tatts, hair, heels and attitude) this ‘up yours’ of years past had been long forgotten; since, seemingly, embraced by the scene’s elite.

The POW was buzzing in anticipation of the Fireballs, a feeling partially attributable to the stage antics of Mach Pelican who put on one of their classic, brutally punk sets. As always – tight and terrific. 

Quiffs bobbed and Tatts flexed impatiently for Eddie Fury, Joe Phantom and Matt Black to set the stage alight.  Since breaking up in 1997 and reforming in 2005, these shows were few and far between, so the tension continued to build right up until the stroke of midnight when the boys finally jumped on stage.

If there was a worry in the room that The Fireballs had lost their ignition, it was dashed in three short sharp seconds of Fury – quite literally! Eddie brought the crowd to their knees and slam-dancing best within moments behind his kit with his immense tub-thrashing and desperate vocals. The boys pulled out all the stops – Phantom, perched on his double bass, plucked away like a recently escaped madman as Black thrashed his way around stage, causing the audience to flush with excitement as he tore into favourite Fireball riffs.

They brought out all the goldies, much to the audience’s delight – ‘Dream Pills’, ‘Depression Manic’, ‘XXX’, ‘GoGoGo’ – each accompanied by the expected maniacal on and off stage action. Much to my (and the punters’) delight, they continued their sweaty, debauched set for close to two hours. Whipping out all the best from their classic albums, Terminal Haircut, Fall of the Damned and Life Takes Too Long.

Shirtless and Mohawked, The Fireballs proved that playing thousands of gigs in the early days didn’t wear the band (or their audience) out – it merely got them started, ensuring that The Fireballs remain one of the most unpredictable, heart-starting live acts in the country.