Clay J Gladstone, Birthday Raven and Molly and The Krells @ Frankies Pizza By The Slice. November 1st 2020.

It was the wake of Halloween at Frankies, oh lets face it, it’s always Halloween at Frankies! A monumental occasion for majority of us, this was the first live gig since COVI.. fuck it I am not even going to type it, for the sheer fact it doesn’t have a space in my writing, let’s move on!

The big red curtain that cordons off the stage only heightens the excitement for what lies behind, is it the Great and Powerful Oz or is it 3x LOUD bands dying to perform the fruits of eight hard months of labour… a bit of column A, bit of Column B.

First Up, Birthday Raven, a self-proclaimed ‘shit punk’ band.The three-piece played hard with politically-laiden lyrics that fitted nicely against poster-billed walls. They had an endearing humility between the stark stage light and silences transitioning songs. Their crescendos hit like a wave that ascended for a very long time. In Blood Spilt, when it comes ‘down’ an impactful statement plays out to ensure you aren’t just passively entertained. Huge respect to these guys who gave it a shit load of energy and looked super stoked to be there.

As band 2 were getting prepared, staff beeline hurriedly with Ice buckets and glassy catchments to keep order, everything felt a little alien, perplexed I wavered “Are we in FRANKIES, sitting down cabaret style, listening to hard as hell bands?” The anxiety that we were doing something wrong quickly dissipated.

Snap straight to Molly & the Krells sound checking, we assumed there were a thousand people on that half moon stage, a fitting precedent for the audio shock that was about to come. These guys (four-piece) played with so much synergy and gusto, I was getting some real garage Sunk Loto vibes. Born entertainers with progressive punk that packs a punch. Refreshingly welcomed on the Sydney scene.

A guitar strap fell off mid-set, Clay (frontman of Clay J Gladstone) jumped on-stage to lend a hand so his mate could continue playing. The comradery brought a huge smile to everyones faces. Then like nothing ever happened the angular symmetry of guitars and Elvis stances continued beautifully.

All for Nothing was a personal favourite with its ‘stick it to the man’ tonality and anarchist punk vibes, an anthem of unity, fitting for this time of political unrest. These guys are ones to watch. A sea of flannelette, vinyl and shiny body jewels bobbed in their seats like an ‘Indie Ocean’.

As band 3 set up that familiar Frankies intermission playlist of Glam rock looped on, I felt the happiest I had in what felt like forever, within a microcosm of misfits, one that has always and will always feel like home.

Onto 5 piece Clay J Gladstone, the main act. A theatrical jamboree ensued, it grabbed you by the jugular, a sensory overload jam packed with multiple cultural influences and style. Frontman (Clay) embodied a punk Jim Morrison as he confronted the crowd, transcending into his craft. Track, Holly, really resonated with Clay’s voice smoothly transitioning, it echoed over a tidy but busy musical undercurrent.

Many of these guys had former band lives together, a rock solid pedigree between them. As its early days for this new outfit I look forward to Clay’s evolution and their schtick solidifying.

All in all ’twas a stellar eve’, one of promising upcoming music out of Sydney and surrounds, a nod of the cap to live music being back – full hearts and fucked ear drums will prevail.

HMC.

Photo credit: @theundergroundstage

Rising Tide, the Debut EP from Future State Band.

(Un)-strap yourself in for Rising Tide, Future State Bands debut EP. Overall, as you free-fall into a false sense of security, you are then jolted as a (metaphorical) parachute drops and smacks you right back into the ‘right here, right now’. For incessantly apologetic lyrics the melodic rapture seems 100% intentional and it is on that note I find it a little bit cheeky.

The title track, Rising Tide’s resounding synth toils between hopefulness and the abyss, themes of self doubt and defeat are overcome with precarious embrace.

In contrast, Anyone has a playful honestly cathartic tone, urging to be ‘one’ with the existential crises we all face, at this point, daily.  If there was a call-to-action It’d say “put on that bright lipstick or that obnoxious shirt and fake it till you make it, baby.”

Tracks like Follow me and Auras, are underscored by beautiful piano progressions, these incite deep, spooky 90’s film clip imagery: think Bjork to Radiohead where the words come out in slow motion and bioengineered mankind reigns supreme. It is sad but calming, ethereal but dark. These two tracks have potential to be classic go-to’s for reflection and ‘isolation’.

But it is Giving it up that’s the crescendo for me, it’s sexy yet coy, and somewhere in that limbo is something beautiful – Ally’s voice carries you out like a tidal wave and then brings you right back to shore.

This trip-hop record produced by the Blue Mountains duo is one for now. In a time where we could all listen more and say less, this EP wears it’s heart on its sleeve and is thoughtfully produced without getting in the way of itself.

You can find it here on Spotify.

Rising Tide, A Debut EP by Future State Band.

(Un)-strap yourself in for Rising Tide, Future State Bands debut EP. Overall, as you free-fall into a false sense of security, you are then jolted as a (metaphorical) parachute drops and smacks you right back into the ‘right here, right now’. For incessantly apologetic lyrics the melodic rapture seems 100% intentional and it is on that note I find it a little bit cheeky.

The title track, Rising Tide’s resounding synth toils between hopefulness and the abyss, themes of self doubt and defeat are overcome with precarious embrace.

In contrast, Anyone has a playful honestly cathartic tone, urging to be ‘one’ with the existential crises we all face, at this point, daily.  If there was a call-to-action It’d say “put on that bright lipstick or that obnoxious shirt and fake it till you make it, baby.”

Tracks like Follow me and Auras, are underscored by beautiful piano progressions, these incite deep, spooky 90’s film clip imagery: think Bjork to Radiohead where the words come out in slow motion and bioengineered mankind reigns supreme. It is sad but calming, ethereal but dark. These two tracks have potential to be classic go-to’s for reflection and ‘isolation’.

But it is Giving it up that’s the crescendo for me, it’s sexy yet coy, and somewhere in that limbo is something beautiful – Ally’s voice carries you out like a tidal wave and then brings you right back to shore.

This trip-hop record produced by the Blue Mountains duo is one for now. In a time where we could all listen more and say less, this EP wears it’s heart on its sleeve and is thoughtfully produced without getting in the way of itself.

Black Sabbath, Qudos Bank Arena, Apr 23rd 2016

Deafening chimes with huge sporadic percussion bellowed throughout a packed Qudos Bank Arena. Everyone was caught off guard with an eight-minute premature stage presence, a fittingly uneasy prelude for what was to come from Black Sabbath.

One minute you’d be comparing Ozzy Osbourne to a drunk yet endearingly harmless uncle and the next his demonic eyes and hellraiser persona would break on through. It was tantalising but it was confusing. In the midst of Osbourne played an absolutely stellar line-up of musicians. Tony Iommi made industrial riffs at the simple twinkle of his fingers.

Psychedelic imagery set the tone for Fairies Wear Boots as distorted live footage simulated an acid-washed version of Sgt Pepper‘s Lonely Hearts Club Band. Iommi effortlessly shredded and Osbourne nodded along, a quasi headbang.

Osbourne’s introduction to War Pigs was as incomprehensible in dialect as it was once known as a political anthem — he shuffled along the stage donning a bra that had been gifted to him by one of the many bare-chested women in the mosh pit.

Then redemption reigned from a haphazard start as the second half gained traction and synergy. Climatic points one and two came from Geezer Butler’s solo in N.I.B — it felt like a dark sonar message — and drummer Tommy Clufetos. 15-minute ear-bursting drum solo. This spiritual spectacle had everyone spellbound as he speed-bagged, cha-cha’ed, and bonged on the same drum set. The energy, the technique and the sound were surreal. When it was over the crowd were at their feet hailing this Jesus-like figure.

With the energy at fever-pitch it was the perfect time to roll out the classics and watch the mosh pit get heavier and Osbourne get crazier: making random “cuckoo” noises, throwing a bucket of water over the crowd and cackling devilishly.

Children Of The Grave was savagely powerful and authentic — it was this moment that showed the crowd’s presence, as the arena’s respect for these Gods Of Metal reverberated with the shattering bass.

To no one’s surprise, yet no one’s disappointment, Paranoid made for the encore, and those piercingly electric lines had people’s feet shuffling to the hysteria of such a classic.

The band so humbly thanked the crowd, knowing this will be their last grace on a Sydney stage and Osbourne mumbled “God bless you all,” a paradox within himself, both the Anti and the Christ.

Hayley May Casey.

Gang of Youths, Enmore Theatre, 9 April.

The minute you heard Dave Le’aupepe’s pipes an instant ethereal grace permeated Enmore Theatre, the limited pockets of air available carried the strong-hold synth in track Restraint & Release while a Tim Burton-inspired stage show went on in the background.

The nostalgia reeked for Gang Of Youths, playing in their homeland of Sydney’s inner west — yes they relayed that with a heavy heart — but they fucking wanted to be there: physically, spiritually and all consumingly.

When anarchist anthem Poison Drum dropped the band became silhouettes, gallivanting around as bold shapes that nullified any notion of there even being a frontman.

Enmore Theatre emulated a time machine as it took its travellers back to circa 1986 as a room full of lighters oscillated along with masterpiece track Knuckles White Dry. The raspiness in Le’aupepe’s voice was tethered between trauma and triumph. Then with no ease of transition Benevolence Riots had Le’aupepe play the role of Spirit Master while his followers clapped in a trance-like corroboree.

However, it was crowd favourite Magnolia with its energetic up-tempo sound that fleetingly snapped revellers out the state of hypnosis in the room as the packed-out venue tried to match the energy of the band: belting it back and jumping around awkwardly to the disjointed ballad.

But yet again the energy took a stark turn into an ethereal place, with the whimsical tones of Kansas slowly and teasingly winding the set down. Of all songs to ‘end’ with Vital Signs made the most sense, with its fitting psychedelic narrative. This gig was a showcase of range, nuance, and conflicting inspirations — and proof that Gang Of Youths won’t be pigeonholed.

Photo credit: Peter Sharp

Hayley May Casey.

Cold Chisel, Grinspoon – 15 Dec

Grinspoon seemed like a fitting support for the One Night Stand tour, reuniting to pay homage to some of their predecessors in Oz rock. While their energy and Phil Jamieson’s free-spirited nature were contagious, the set’s fast pace seemed to come from Jamieson wanting it to be over as quickly as possible. Before Jamieson sprinted off the stage they did a great rendition of INXS’s Don’t Change, it had a funky, dirty pop vibe, but the lack of kinship between the band distracted the music. At one point Jamieson brought Scott Russo (Unwritten Law) on stage for some awkward vocal backing. It was equal parts entertainment and confusion.

Diehard Cold Chisel fans sported the band’s entire apparel range spanning the four decades of their existence. They were rewarded with a blood-, sweat- and tear-stained performance. Jimmy Barnes’ voice was raspier and deeper than ever, and while he didn’t have the range afforded by his glory days, the pain in his iconic wail made him appear like the ‘white man’s’ James Brown.

Andy Bickers’ sax on Rising Sun bellowed through the arena, every foot tapped and every face beamed. His intermittent presence was always welcomed and his harmonica and sax skills layered the shit out of an already magical music display.

Ian Moss was consistently flawless; his ability to modestly weave through tracks but then dominate solos and lyrics was incredible. Barnes and Moss had playful chemistry, often embracing and sharing the microphone with their sweaty heads pressed against one another. Like two brothers it was all about encouragement and there was no room for ego. Moss’ version of Ray Charles’ Georgia On My Mind that was his climatic moment, the spotlight beamed off his guitar as the chords glided atop soul-soothing keys. You wanted to bottle the sound.

A clearly well thought out setlist had the crowd on the edge of their seat, but also leveraging on Barnes’ need for a sporadic breather. The odd new track made the crowd idle, casually sipping their drinks in stark contrast to the classics; except for track Lost in which Barnes’ current state of being really shone through. It was beautiful to see his evolution as an artist just within that track alone.

But of course it was the classics that the Chisel fans wanted, and they’ve been around too long to know that self-indulgence and delusions of grandeur do not keep fans for 40 years, so they rolled them out. InBow River, every lyric from Barnes’ mouth was like a grenade, if he had dropped the mic right then and there, the crowd would have been satisfied. It was clear he was digging deep and the respect levels were at fever pitch.

Cold Chisel solidly cemented their name in Australian culture for their allegiance to representing the battler with a pervasive message of hope and never giving up. After leaving the One Night Stand tour there wasn’t enough juice in the tank to get home — so as has always been the lesson: you go hard, or go home!

Photo credit: Rohan Anderson.

Naughty By Nature, DJ Peter Gunz , MC Losty -13 Nov

A hip hop display of epic proportions rocked the Metro last night. A sea of Nike TNs packed in. MC Losty had some tight rhymes and kicked off the energy with a vitriolic battle.DJ Peter Gunz had a penchant for the old-school and confidently dropped beats with seamless precision, which had the whole venue bouncing. It was an opportunistic moment for some talented local performers, plus it warmed up the excited crowd in classic block party style — booties to the floor and drinks went down with them.

As Naughty By Nature took the stage, the bass transformed the ground into a magic carpet, raising the crowd’s energy and excitement.

Treach was mesmerising, his presence and flow seemingly crucial to keeping the trio around for the best part of 25 years. He came out with a boomerang in hand and over the course of the set referenced Australia’s Indigenous history with the intent of reconciliation and unity; look to your left and right, “Hi relative,” — the message was widely felt.

The trio played some old-school classics between their own back catalogue, with DJ Kay Gee emanating confidence while waxing nostalgia on the decks. A tribute to Tupac then Biggie reinforced that feeling of love and unity, then Jamboree carried on that upbeat ecstasy.

As this four-hour journey’s end drew closer, shots of Hennessy and stories of smoking weed and dubious law enforcement were shared with the audience. A full stage of fans helped Hip Hop Hooray finish an epic night of celebrating hip hop as more than a genre of music, but instead an inclusive movement.

Fleetwood Mac – 22 October

Fleetwood Mac fans’ expectations last night were as high as Stevie Nicks must have been when developing her dance moves. It took the band three songs and a bit of crowd interaction to ‘warm-up’. Lindsey Buckingham was the adhesive of the band; in trackDreams when Nicks was out of tune or lacking energy, he seemed to compensate with his suave skill on the guitar. This deflection played out the entire set, showing the very heart of Fleetwood Mac; while in its entirety they lacked synchronicity, too much focus on individuals made it feel like a geriatric Woodstock. It was a paradox of a performance.

The percussion in Tusk rumbled seats; it was Fleetwood’s time to shine on drums, as stampede stomps from the stalls echoed in time to the industrial track. It was a jamboree of percussive bliss. In this rare moment the sound was in-sync. Christine McVie emanated jolly noises from the accordion: Fleetwood Mac were back. Crowd Favourite Big Love was remastered by Buckingham and he wailed with conviction; some women geared-up to reef their smalls on stage. The crowd lapped-it-up. Cult-like fans exhibited some truly original expressions of love for ‘The Mac’: two-handed fist pumps and a simulated one-man seated tango.

Solos and duos were the band’s strengths, as they didn’t have the precision to play their ballads with the seamless intensity and timing as in their original form.

A beautifully simplistic version of Landslide brought Nicks’ soul to life as she smashed the high notes, weaving yodels through nostalgia-laced lyrics.

Like looking at a Picasso painting from afar, it worked, but when you really paid attention the finer details — tune, synchronicity and energy — it was a mess. A long hiatus and tag-team exits had clearly taken its toll on Fleetwood Mac.

Photo credit: Rohan Anderson

The Wombats – Hordern Pavilion, Jul 27 2015.

It was evident last night that Splendour In The Grass had got the better of The Wombats and their fans who were still kicking-on from the three-day festival. The Wombats appeared exhausted but played hard amid a backdrop of flickering strobe lights.

At times their sound was awfully disjointed but the three-piece used this energy — or lack thereof — to bring something new to their back catalogue. Jump Into The Fog was unrecognisable as it started, with an intro of fat bass lines and an out-of-time synth keyboard slotted in messily. Frontman Matthew Murphy looked dishevelled and had an air of Robert Smith’s “I don’t give a fuck, I’m a rockstar” attitude. Guitarist Tord Øverland Knudsen swept energetically across the stage alongside the drone camera that recorded the set; a little ambitious to air a live set in the aftermath of Splendour.

The first address to the needy crowd was followed by a massive stuff-up in the track Greek Tragedy,which was sheepishly admitted, laughed off and then repeated four tracks later. Apparently this was a consequence of ‘”live music” and we should be thankful that we “were not at home, listening to the record and scratching our sacks” — nice segue.

The back-end of the set evolved into a much tighter arrangement, with Murphy belting out high notes of conviction as he delivered his famously awkward lyrics of romantic vulnerability. Overall, the set was far from polished with uncomfortable stuff-ups and some experimental sounds that hurt the ear drums, but The Wombats channelled their exhausted energy into an honest and fair set of 17 tracks that a packed Hordern Pavilion lapped up. Finishing on Let’s Dance To Joy Division they jumped into the crowd, fumbled their way back on stage and played an outro that sounded as heavy and anarchic as Killing In The Name Of, an unorthodox set proving you can’t pigeon-hole them and they ain’t conforming to anyone’s expectations — or even their own set list’s.

Tim Rogers & The Bamboos; 19 Jun 2015

Tim Rogers & The Bamboos brought a performance packed with surprises. Rogers is an artist known for eccentricities and an abrasive demeanour; he delivered the one true thing you can expect from him, ‘the unexpected’.

The mature crowd grooved along to a funky version of Taylor Swift’s Shake It Off with The Bamboos bandleader Lance Ferguson’s saxophone relishing its time to shine. It was a fun contrast seeing an eight-piece Reservoir Dogs-esque band turn cheesy pop music into funk.

Funk turned to folk for percussive track Lime Rickey. It showcased the band’s strengths; the track just seemed to linger on-and-on, like it was performed in slow-motion. Rogers abruptly threw the crowd back into reality, ranting about social media warriors and feeling affinity with “people who don’t tweet”.

Classic track Heavy Heart caught everyone off-guard as this piece of beautiful songwriting was sung with heaving conviction from both Rogers and the crowd. The Bamboos appeared proud to cover the Australian classic.

To up the ante they finished on I Got Burned, and the baby-boomer crowd embraced their sexuality and swayed along to a six-minute version of the ‘baby-making’ sonic pleasure.

Through moments of freak cooees into the stratosphere and instrument checks as if in rehearsal, the unison between Tim Rogers & The Bamboos was easy to see — it was these unpolished moments that made it even more clear that he’s such a genius yet such a larrikin.

Photo credit: Clare Hawley