As usual, The Corner was almost empty for the start of the opening band – a position filled by The Double Agents. As people trickled in, they readied people for the night’s onslaught of full-on rock. Singer Miss Kimmy’s gravelly low voice worked well with their stoned-out 60s-era Stones sound, mixed with raucous dirty pub rock. But they’re not just drawing inspiration from the Stones – the Birthday Party, helped by their male singer’s sometimes Nick Cave-like voice. Dirty-sounding duets between both vocalists and some old-school keys and maraccas made their music pretty distinctive and a good opener to the night.
Legends of Motorsport’s reputation as one of Melbourne’s most entertaining live bands is certainly well deserved. Taking their cues from the V8 circuit, their music is loud, shrill, and makes you want to move your arse- in a good way, of course! If you’re at all concerned about the future of rock, this crazy band will put a smile on your face. With some retro Doors-like keys, a Josh Homme falsetto, and delirious guitar solos, the guys in this band seemed to attract some pretty hardcore fans. Stereo Girl was a favourite, the psycho Totally Extreme had me grinning, and Brunswick Ladies won over some new fans. I was sufficiently impressed by all of this, but the final song was an absolute scorcher, ending with an improv guitar solo jam-out between the two guitarists; writhing against each other, untangling their leads, and proceeding to fall over, one atop the other, all the while playing competently, fingers dancing over the upper frets. One ended the song lying on the floor, playing the searing guitar line while he nonchalantly rested his feet up on the organ centre-stage.
Before Beasts of Bourbon started you could tell people had been waiting a while for their return to Melbourne. The place was packed with a buzz of conversation heightening the anticipation. It looked like some of these fans had got into the Beasts back in the early 80s, and had grown quite a bit older since then.
The Beasts started – loud and tight. These guys haven’t lost any ability to rock as the crowd instantly ate out of Tex Perkins’ hand, loving every move and every smart-a—e comment. And when the band started Chase the Dragon, their classic dark picture of addiction, the punters were smitten. The Beasts’ brutal, muscular sound lends itself to these themes.
The Beasts of Bourbon are often described as ‘swamp rock’. I hadn’t given much credence to this label, but watching them in person explained it. The low, dirty fat chords with stumbling, reeling minor-key licks over the top really do evoke visions of muck, sludge, dirt and mud, with opportunistic insects flitting across, bouncing on the surface like those bluegrass-flavoured melodies. Whoever named the genre had a very perceptive mind.
Trying not to think of tropical monkeys and birds as Spencer Jones and Charlie Owen strangled their guitars, squeezing every possible permutation of feedback from them, Tex’s mean-sounding voice provided the perfect channel for the angst and spite of their songs. New song I Don’t Care About Nothing Anymore went over well with the audience, though Tex did give himself over to some militant theatrics with the marching beat. Tex took a turn for the sensitive with the title track from their forthcoming album, Little Animals. This soft, brooding song with more than a whiff of cheesiness (try bird whistles), built up to a crashing, abrasive climax before retreating to its former self. Finishing the song, Tex demonstrated some sarcasm, telling the crowd “Let’s save all the animals, otherwise we’ll have nothing to eat.”
They finished their main set with the favourite Saturated, which had lots of the crowd reliving their former youth, basking in the vibrations of anything not nailed down, caused by the huge volume. The inevitable encore started with Ride On, perhaps a personal anthem for the Beasts these days. Drop Out, following it, was an antithesis to Ride On. Tex added line “I hate the Hoodoo Gurus” in another surrender to his sarcasm. The night ended with Thanks, the song which reputedly spurred them on to record their new album. The half-spoken lines exchanged unashamedly parodied the rock and roll lifestyle. I couldn’t help but wonder if among the tongue-in-cheek thanks for substances of dependence and blind adulation, there wasn’t a hint of ironic truth.
