Date: September 18,2009
Venue: The Step Inn
Acts: The Nation Blue, SixFtHick, Dick Nasty, No Anchor

I was not well for this gig. Felt iffy to start with and got worse as the evening went on — ultimately I bailed quite early in the headliner’s set.  It’s frustrating, as the sweaty, close-crowded punters appeared to be working their way toward some sort of meltdown. It’s annoying as The Nation Blue’s  gritty rock ethos has a lot going for it. And it’s disappointing, as it shows in the poorer-than-usual quality of the few shots of the band I selected. Maybe next time.

Had better luck with the supports. Particularly so for SixFtHick as the Corbett brothers take their pent-up ferocity onto the sticky dance floor. They chaotically surge left then right — narrow spaces suddenly gaping as wide-eyed punters stumble out of their way. It’s hard to not take a step back when Ben is fully in your face — clawing at his chest like he wants to escape his own skin and screaming the lyrics to, say, The Floor Is The Limit. It’s hard to not be a little wary of Geoff’s animalistic fury as he belts out Retirement Party. But, at the same time, there’s a ritualistic element to their schtick. They’re not feral animals; the fury is controlled. And that’s why I sometimes wonder whether the duo hopes for a more involved response on the occasions when they dissolve the traditional distance between band and punter.

Date: August 22, 2009
Venue: The Zoo, Brisbane
Acts: Decoder Ring, Bridezilla, Seekae

A goodly sized crowd is on hand at The Zoo tonight to catch Decoder Ring. It’s my first listen to a band that has garnered a lot of respect for it’s instrumental rock-tronica, and I come away impressed by both the strong nature of their tunes and their ability to hold an audience entranced.  The “big-screen” imagery projected onto the wall behind probably helps — a chaotic visual feast that spans a  mind-boggling gamut of rocket launches, blooming flowers, space panoramas, ultrasound imagery and much more. Any ultimate meaning is debatable, but it’s a hook for the eye that enlivens what could otherwise by an entirely too introspective experience.

On the other hand, Sydneysiders Bridezilla prove a disappointment. The way they deployed the saxophone and violin on their self-titled EP was just thrilling — a menacing thrust and riposte duel working around and through Holiday Sidewinder’s vocals one of the highlights. Unfortunately,  it’s hard to perceive the challenging angularity that made that release so fascinating in their performance tonight, even on the cuts drawn from that effort.

Date: November 27, 2009
Venue: Front Bar, Step Inn
Acts: No Anchor

Donovan Miller’s induction into the ranks of No Anchor as second bassist immediately raises expectations that their act will be twice as sludgey, twice as brutal and twice as relentless. Tonight’s performance, in the closeness of the Step Inn’s Front Bar, disproves that theory — mostly because when you make music as brutal, sludgey and relentless as Ian Rogers and Alex Gillies, it’s nigh impossible to push that particular barrow any further. Diminishing returns ‘n all that.

That being said, Butcher Birds’ hard-hitting skinsman slots in alongside Rogers effortlessly, and the band’s all-too-brief forty-five minute set is a cracker. It’s hard to say through a haze of alcohol whether they were debuting filled-out variations of old tunes, or out-and-out new material, but I know I bloody liked it.

2 High Festival
Date: November 14, 2009
Venue: Brisbane Powerhouse
Acts: McKisko

The anticipatory hush of several score people who fill the Visy Theatre is so thick as to be almost palpable. Unflustered, McKisko proceeds to fill this intimidating silence with gorgeous readings of her fractured folk-minimalism that are mostly taken from debut long-player Glorio.

The exquisite starkness of her tunes is rendered whole orders of magnitude more raw as the theatre’s acoustics carry the tiniest guitar ring, the hollow, boxy thud of her bandmate’s kick drum and, of course, every shivering inflection in her crystalline voice. We are so utterly spellbound by this lo-fi tour-de-force that it’s a shock when the lights come up at the conclusion of un-recorded gem Down The Track. Thirty minutes has passed already?

Date: August 23, 2009
Venue: The Zoo, Brisbane
Acts: The Lucksmiths, Darren Hanlon

I’m always amused at the wary alertness hovering in Darren Hanlon’s eyes when he first takes the stage. It’s as though he’s fearful one of his enthusiastic fans might take their adoration too far and tackle-hug him as he’s playing, say, The Kickstand Song.

Tonight, (like just about every night, I imagine) the worst his exquisitely polite audience inflicts is the inevitable request for Danielle. A request followed by the equally inevitable response “not in this lifetime”. Danielle aside, he’s chattily open to requests, and with the backing of drummer Bree Van Reyk, quickly works through an all-too-short set that includes the ever-loved Happiness Is A Chemical, Electric Skeleton, Eli Wallach, The Unmade Bed and a lovely closing cover of Fizcher-Z’s The Perfect Day.

Tonight it’s former Candle Records stablemates The Lucksmiths who are the stars. Like the late and much-missed label itself, the band is finally hanging up boots after 16 years of charming audiences everywhere with their beautiful, infectious indie-pop.

It’s a performance that’s more a celebration than a wake. Tali White — front and centre behind his snares and cymbals — sports a broad grin and smiling eyes. Obviously having the time of their lives, the four band members work through some 28 songs spanning 1993’s First Tape to 2008’s First Frost, and a willing crowd responds joyously — singing and dancing along to favourites such as Jewel Theives, Frisbee, The Chapter In Your Life Entitled San Francisco, A Downside To The Upstairs and many, many more.

Clocking in at two-plus hours, the the almost-relentless jangly guitars start to chafe in the home stretch. By the same token, fond memories from Candle Records showcases and Livid performances mean I’m reluctant to miss a moment. I count it personal serendipty when the band drops in T-Shirt Weather just a few songs from the end. It proves the perfect pick-me up. The crowd voicing on the chorus indicates I’m not the only one who holds it in high esteem.

Still, even The Lucksmiths can’t disguise this is it — as White, Monnone, Richter and Donald take their final bows and stride off-stage at the conclusion of The Music From Next Door, there’s more than a touch of sadness that we’ll never enjoy their effortless pop again.

Date: August 21, 2009
Venue: The Zoo, Brisbane
Acts: X, SixFtHick, The Jim Rockfords

The Jim Rockfords‘ rockabilly-blues stylings trod a fine line between chrome and grime. Bulldog-like frontman Junio Hickey’s voice isn’t the most memorable, but his harmonica interludes add verve to the pacey guitar-bass attack. Anyone who can take their eyes off bassist Kylie Lovejoys’s heart-stamped, black denim pants has no pulse.

No pretensions to subtlety or decorum, SixFtHick hammer-blast The Zoo from go to woah with sleazy antics and gritty canepunk. Ben Corbett dribbles spittle across his nipples and thrashes on the floor in ecstasy while brother and hard-roaring staight man Geoff incites the close-pressed crowd to frenzy. Amidst this mania, it’s easy to overlook “backing” trio bassist Tony Giacca, guitarist Dan Baebler and surnameless drummer Fred, but their ramrod rhythms on The Floor Is The Limit, Subject To Change, Dogshit Blues (and more) are as essential to SixFtHick as the Corbetts’ deranged on-stage machismo.

In the wake of SixFtHick’s punishing set, X prove a disappointment. Plenty are here to see the veteran Melbourne punksters, but the trio’s delivery feels a case of the flesh not quite fulfilling the demands of the spirit. Craggy-faced frontman Steve Lucas certainly looks the rebel — all black leather, faded tatoos and a ragged loop of bullets stitched to his guitar strap — but bereft of grit and intensity, there’s not enough in the tunes to hold the attention tonight.

Venue: Valley Fiesta, Fortitude Valley
Date: October 24, 2009
Acts: Butcher Birds, SixFtHick, Vegas Kings

Jo Nilson’s mildly exasperated “Wake up Fortitude Valley!” is Butcher Birds‘ sole protest against a somnolent late-afternoon crowd too full of sun (and, presumably, booze) to bestir themselves and get into the tunes. Instead, the songs do the talking as the band powers through a set replete with cuts from new long-player Set My Bones.

The confidence is well placed: The Gate, Millions and Blood Message pitch a thumping, crunching bottom-end against fuzzing guitars and the sleek vocals of Stacey Coleman in the most toothsome fashion. Hook-laden fuzz becomes visceral, punk anger when Donovan Miller briefly steals vocals duties for Amp. Even if the punters are a little introverted today, the broad smiles of the Butcher Birds as they conclude with a screeching, dissonant cover of The Amps’ Tipp City shows at least four people in the Valley are keen to cut loose.

Blessed darkness. A comforting, gossamer veil anomymises our communal shame as the Corbett brothers preside over sickening rites of swamp-rock. They spew misanthropic hate — thickly congealed inside sleazy riffs groaning with self-destructive potential — expiating life’s sins in convulsive waves of self-abuse that we may be spared. Weak humans, we succumb; we embrace the sweating, pummelling debauchery. The Floor Is The Limit. Living the Dogshit Blues, we howl bereft. The Shitbird Has Landed, and it is us. Venally, we pursue White Light, Wet Heat. Its indisputable transience is irrelevant. Then, the ultimate abasement, all-too-willing Ashtray for refuse as the masters mark, abuse and, finally, discard us.

After a typically brutal rendition of Hail, Pete Collins announces there won’t be any Train tonight — his right hand has gone numb. Benjamin Dougherty, in typically dry fashion, observes: “I think you’re just going to have to man up a bit there, Collins.” They play it anyway. Still, it’s a moment near the end of their set where Collins moves across stage to point out Dougherty’s machine-precision fretwork with a stubby finger that’s defining — if Vegas Kings played their grimy speed blues any faster, their guitars would burst into flame.

Date: October 12, 2009
Venue: The Zoo, Brisbane
Acts: No Anchor

Date: August 15, 2009
Venue: The Globe, Brisbane
Acts: The Room, The Gallant, New Manic Spree

Life — in the form of work — having gone rather haywire with a succession of shitty deadlines during August and much of early September, it’s taken a while for me to finish this set of photos. Which means that by inevitable corollary, the details of the night are really quite hazy. Annoying.

The Gallant use their support slot to debut a few new tunes they’ve been recording in their spare time. Initially, I come away with the sense that they might be moving to a less effects-laden sound. It feels more direct and aggressive — not least courtesy of James See’s inches-short-of-spitting-on-the-crowd vocal delivery. But, later, listening to their new three-track promo sampler, I’m left unsure. End Of The World still brims with clockwork electro-style drumming and Who-vian noises while One Call Away spends most of its poignant life as a gentle, slow-tempo ballad before spiralling to a crescendo of crashing cymbals and stabbing synths near the end. Both of which make the more straight-down-the-line guitar rock of Table For One all the more intriguing. Shed of much of The Gallant’s natural tendency to complexity, the lovelorn tune is one of their catchiest efforts yet.

Launching new EP Where The Martyr Grows, The Room must be absolutely stoked. The Globe feels packed. Not capacity, but you could almost die of thirst waiting for service at the bar.  Two parts thinking-person’s rock and one part slug-to-the-guts fury, The Room deploy a heavy atmospheric that tilts somewhere between post and prog. There’s not quite the melodic immediacy of, say, Cog, but absent too are the experimental extremes of a band like Laura. Which is all merely a way of saying that they don’t fit neatly in any particular box. Being neither fish nor fowl can be a recipe for drab, but here dapper, white-coated vocalist Jay Haddon layers his crooning falsetto with the high-end guitar shennanigans of Tristan Chu over the ambient groundswell of the remaining instruments in a most appealing fashion.

Date: August 14, 2009
Venue: The Hi-Fi, Brisbane
Acts: Bertie Blackman, Hungry Kids of Hungary, Kimbra

The soulful raggedness of Kiwi songstress Kimbra belies her diminutive physical presence alone at the centre of the sprawling Hi-Fi stage. There’s something Jeff Buckley-esque about the way she spins restrained jazz-inflected guitar for her throbbing voice to warp itself around. It works. Beautifully. Still, hundreds of pig-ignorant punters would rather shout over her and line up for over-priced beer. Even one astonishing a-capella moment where she abandons guitar to loops her own vocals into a multi-octave beat-boxed melody draws not much more than polite interest.

The pop-rock charm of Hungry Kids of Hungary is as undeniable as it is irrepressible. In some ways, they seem to take a lot of their cues from fellow locals The Boat People — lots of melodic guitar hooks and sweet male harmonies. Sure, songs like Scattered Diamonds are pure indie fairy floss, but, by the same token, hating on them feels like going around kicking puppies for fun.

It’s an awful long time since I’ve seen Bertie Blackman play a gig. Probably 2004 at the Rev supporting the aforementioned Boaties. I vaguely remember a strongly guitar-based rock shtick — a little in the vein of Mia Dyson, but sans the twang.  How things change: tonight Blackman is full of electronic influences and dance beats. At one point she even ditches the guitar completely. It’s a strong performance without ever being wholly engrossing — and the venue can take some blame here. Fact is that when the Hi-Fi fills up — like tonight — there’s really nowhere to get away from the crowd and for this little black duck the overwhelming crush got a little bit unnerving toward the end of the night.