Thought Criminals, TV Smith(Adverts), Bruce Griffiths @The Annandale, Sydney (02/02/07)

Mon 5th Feb, 2007 in Gig Reviews

It was a bright warm day in February, and the clocks were striking thirteen as I walked towards the Annandale. Big Brother’s ever watchful eyes looked down at me from the building walls and I hoped he couldn’t sense I was on my way to an illicit rendezvous with Julia.

I nervously entered the Annandale and saw my workmate O’Brien. She promptly shoved ‘the cd’ in my hand. I had heard about this hard to find cd, or 7”, of new tracks by the Thought Criminals that was only available only at their gigs. I looked around and noticed Big Brother’s face was nowhere to be seen. It was even missing from the telescreen which had been commandeered by Jamie ‘Movie Show’ Leonarder so he could project old punk films.

Bruce Griffiths was on first. He use to publish zines and release records, now he writes for just about every decent comedy show and spends his nights as a stand-up comedian. Bruce has a deliberately deadpan delivery, and he entertained us with 30 minutes of short, sharp, cerebral comedy. He stops briefly after each punchline so we can process the joke but, for some people, mostly those drunk on Victory Gin, these pauses needed to be longer. The jokes were delightfully droll and involved subjects like superpowers, automotive hamsters, and pot smoking garden gnomes. The man has lot of original and unusual ideas.

TV Smith and his band, The Adverts, were one of the more memorable bands to emerge from the early British punk scene. He continued to play in bands after their demise of the Adverts, and now plays solo armed with just a guitar. He took to the stage, with the largest grin I have ever seen and told us how excited he was to be here. This is a man who loves what he does, and his passion is infectious. The guitar is a weapon and TV launched an assault of political and social commentary from his 30 year career. Late in the set he recited his one and only poem, ‘My Punk Rock Poem’, which is a light hearted recapping of his time in the Adverts. The poem led us in to his finale, The Adverts one taste of chart success, ‘Gary Gilmour’s Eyes’. Julia described TV Smith as the ‘punk rock Lou Reed’. She was referring to the way one man can captivate an audience, but TV is a much more fervent performer than Lou. He is a combination of singer songwriter, punk rock legend, and antihero who puts on a impassioned, rollicking show full of articulate observations.

Australia also had some great bands in the early days of punk and one of the best was Sydney’s, recently reformed Thought Criminals. They were frenetic then, as was the style, but they were also artistic and thought provoking. They quickly showed they had lost none of their original appeal, becoming livelier and more animated with each tune. Singer Bruce Warner entertained us with an array of props while the band played with energy and style. Their set mixed songs from the first album (the frantic period), the second album (the moody period), and new songs (both frantic and moody). Every second song became my new favourite of the night. ‘OK 767’ was the highlight until ‘Oceania, Oceania’ had the crowd and I going crazy. It was fun, 2, 3, 4.

The Thought Criminals left the stage after an hour with the crowd chanting for more. They came back on without their keyboardist but with TV Smith. They played ‘One Chord Wonders’ followed by several other Adverts classics to the absolute delight of the audience. TV was smiling so much I thought the top of his head was going to fall off. The sound was amazing, as the Criminals attacked the Adverts tunes with unbridled ferocity. The keyboardist rejoined the band and we had more Thought Criminals songs, with TV Smith on backing vocals, culminating in ‘Fuck The Neighbours’, where Derik’s kit kept up the beat.

After the gig, Julia and I stumbled outside clutching each other, in blatant disregard of the law. Outside we saw black vans from the Ministry of Love and, rushing towards us, the Thought Police. Julia and I separated and pretended to not to know each other. There was mayhem around us as the police grabbed members, and suspected members, of the Brotherhood and threw them in to the van. Julia and I were walking in opposite directions, doing our best to look unconnected to the ensuing mayhem. I stopped at a bus stop, my head pounding from the excitement, while Big Brother spoke calmly from the telescreen above me. I felt safe, things were back to normal.